Sorry, I'm Driving

By Lewis Ulm 

I’ve been drunk once and it was at El Camino Cantina in the Argyle. What a place. The image of a quesadilla never fails to intrude my happy reveries as I am thrown back into that warm summer night, that fateful evening I decided to take eight shots in two hours because I thought that was impressive. I stared at said quesadilla for 40 minutes, scared to move or divert my eyes to something moving, knowing it would make me sick in an instant. But after getting kicked out of the bar for “antisocial behaviour” (which it definitely was) I shamefully took the sombrero off my head and stumbled out into the haven that is The Rocks, eventually finding myself throwing up in the Circular Quay bathrooms. 

But despite this “fun” little story, my most prominent memory from the night is hidden from it. Staring at that quesadilla, I was overwhelmed with the worst anxiety I have ever felt, remnants of which kept recurring every time I had a drink. I could no longer enjoy alcohol without a feeling of regret and fear with every sip, so on the 10th of January last year, I had my last drink. 

The only reason I know that date is because there’s a photo of me with a beer in my hand. I can’t remember if I knew it would be my last, but I do know that the next year and a half would be a difficult period of readjustment, particularly in the context of university. 

We all know about the drinking culture in Australia, and at universities in particular. All societies and social events will predominantly feature alcohol as a drawcard, as the consumption of it is an expectation rather than a preference. Social drinking is a key function of any friendship group as well, with the multitude of campus options providing fine locales for a catch-up over a glass of rosé. 

So to choose to be sober in this environment is a challenging ordeal. The nature of one’s sobriety always comes as a surprise in these scenarios, with excuses as to why you’re not drinking spilling out in the form of “I’m driving” or anything else that sounds legitimate. Friends who catch on to your new decision may worry you’re judging them, causing them to change their behaviour. Others will tell you to “relax and have some fun” as you awkwardly navigate a dance floor, wondering whether everyone knows you’re sober. The hopeless hamster wheel of trying to fit in spins and spins, as you continue to wonder whether you made the right choice. 

But of course it’s hard. Despite the growing trend of sobriety there is still a stigma and a natural curiosity that comes with it. Countless times I have been asked for the reasons that I don’t drink, and of a similar amount I have been asked whether I am still sober. The real difficulty comes from trying to do things you would normally do while drinking. Dancing becomes onerous as it feels like you’re making a fool of yourself in front of others. Leaving a party early becomes appealing, as it is difficult to stay awake past 11PM. Even standing feels weird, because what the hell do you do with your hands? Grab some water and make it look like vodka? But who drinks 300ml of straight vodka?? Too many decisions can become overwhelming, as you struggle to get used to your new social life, and it’s easy to think that the choice you made sucks. 

Until it doesn’t. 

I don’t have a specific date, moment or event that it occurred on, but one day I became comfortable with it. Noticing that I had zero temptation to drink was an unconscious pleasantry, only hitting me after a few weeks of it happening. My confidence at events improved incredibly and I could finally relax and have a boogie. I embraced the designated driver role and have enjoyed many a fun cruise to drop off friends. Because at the end of the day, no one gives a shit that you’re sober. 

Although the questions that come constantly as to why you’re not drinking may cloud this, the reality is that there is nothing too crazy about it. The initial period of sober acclimatization heightens social anxiety and disguises this truth, for being sober has never been something that has been judged. Although there are stereotypes about being straight-laced, we’re fortunate enough to be moving towards a much more accepting and warm nightlife where everyone is there just to have a good time. 

Sure, you’ll have to come to terms with the fact that clubbing kind of sucks, and maybe you’ll be more than a bit keen to leave the bar a while before closing, but when you’re on the dancefloor letting loose to the euphoric melody of “Murder on the Dancefloor”, you quickly understand that, drinking or not, you made the right choice. 

And even if you’re not completely sober, what matters is being comfortable with the amount you’re drinking. Overcoming the peer-pressure of any night leads to more fun, as friends will always understand and will never judge your decision on the night. Our drinking culture can be overwhelming, but no one will look at you differently for choosing what’s best for you. 

Drinking isn’t for everyone, and the more we embrace this fact and understand the diverse range of reasons for being sober, then collectively everyone benefits. I’m fortunate enough to be surrounded by some amazing friends that will always invite me out and want me to be there, knowing full well that I may not be able to keep up with them as the night goes on. But I do, because it doesn’t matter what you’re drinking, it’s who you’re with that truly counts. 

So give it a go, even if it’s just for a month (Dry July, perhaps). You’ll quickly learn that the lack of hangovers are a warm welcome, and that driving home from a party an hour way is an absolute blessing. But you’ll also notice how easy it can be after a while. With great people around you, it’s hard not to have a great night.

And to the random dude offering me his bottle of wine for the fifth time that night, sorry, I’m driving.