Initially, I believed that you could divide drinkers into one of two groups, each defined by its own motives and mechanisms. The first subset was made up of the ones who drank to escape life—the despondent who used alcohol to numb their problems, shortcomings and pain. A caricature of life’s hardships, disconcerting to others and drinking to excess intentionally, they might remind you of the Frank Gallagher in your life—perhaps your very own father or uncle or childhood friend who just couldn’t find peace in any other way.
Where I think most of us would choose to identify is with a second branch who drink to celebrate life. Marked by casual happy hours turned 2 a.m.—beers, champagne bottles and liquor seals cracking open first thing on holiday mornings; getting carried away by a friend in town, a promotion, a ceremony or even the sight of nice weather—this drinker drinks to excess absentmindedly.
The line between drinking to enjoy oneself and drinking despite oneself is muddled even further by actual classes of people, genders, ages, races, ethnicities and other factors. I grew up in a working-class family, and how they choose to indulge themselves is much different from that of men and women of greater means, methods and opportunity. I’ve seen both drown themselves, but on different grounds, devices and vindications.
The party-girl lifestyle
I fell in line with the party girls. It’s a lifestyle, really. It’s an aesthetic adorned by sparkle and shine, high heels, short dresses, blacks and reds and neons and pinks and purples. It’s a set of behaviours—hedonistic, simultaneously self-serving yet holding little care for oneself. It’s who you surround yourself with and what you’ll tolerate. It’s a mentality, and it’s never really that deep. It’s low inhibitions, high stakes, little rewards and constant repetition.
The lifestyle is easy to glamourize. You simply look beautiful, and you have a fun time. You stay up all night dancing, sharing cigarettes, hanging out with cool men and sipping drinks you didn’t pay for, all while finding ways to remain as skinny and beautiful as you possibly can. You take a ton of pretty photos for Instagram and find yourself more and more surrounded by white substances.
When you go to Vegas or Miami, you might even drink all weekend for free at the hands of a promoter whose job is to bring girls into his venue. Sticky dance floors, sloppy hookups, mascara-stained undereyes, mimosas in the morning to keep you going through the very next night—it is all but unavoidable.
It isn’t all in vain, though. Girlhood is a powerful bond, and someone who has seen you in the pits of your party era will either stay with you through life—or become someone you’ll rid yourself of when you finally decide to get clean.
Many of these relationships won’t last, for one reason or another. One might decide to pull the cord and get out earlier than the other. One might have taken it to a point beyond repair on a particularly eventful night. One might have broken the unspoken yet shared responsibility of upholding each other’s safety and good vibe. Whether or not you make it out together, you ride through it together because neither exists without the other. It takes a lot of energy to hype each other up, watch out for one another and keep the other in good spirits.
For some of us, it might start in college or early adulthood, but I often find that many of us get sucked in way too young. I recently found a photo of myself in a skintight, red bodycon dress from Express, posing on the stage of a nightclub near the town I grew up in. I was 15 at the time. You can’t come for my parents, a boyfriend or any of the girls I was hanging out with. I wanted to be a part of this lifestyle for years before and after that.
Now, I’m just a few weeks shy of my 29th birthday, and I have been slowly phasing out of this life for years now, almost to a point where it is non-existent.
Alcohol abuse and life’s worst moments
My come-to-the-light moment is little different than anyone else’s. One too many bad experiences caught up with me and forced me to consider the weight of my decisions and the possibilities of what could come if I didn’t get out soon.
Most of the worst moments in my life have occurred as a result of, or in direct relation to, my own or someone else’s abuse of alcohol.
Most of the worst moments in my life have occurred as a result of, or in direct relation to, my own or someone else’s abuse of alcohol. There is almost no chance that you can be part of this lifestyle and not experience violence, sexual harassment at a minimum, reckless endangerment and other aggressive behaviours.
There is zero chance that you can be part of this lifestyle and not experience embarrassment, shame, guilt and other depressing emotions. Broken relationships, bodily harm and words or actions that can’t be taken back are all common collateral damage that you laugh and laugh and laugh at, but one day, it stops being funny.
It moves very quickly beyond looking beautiful and having a fun time. Now, you’re hurting people you care about, saying and doing things you aren’t proud of, and putting yourself and others in unsafe situations. You build a reputation for these sorts of behaviours, and it’s a difficult stain to wipe away. I have been out of the party scene for a few years now, and I still feel deeply insecure that this is who I was and this is what I am known for.
I am by no means intent on committing to full-time sobriety, although the pipeline from party girl to temperance is very real (and I respect you girls for it). My journey, instead, has been marked by developing and upholding the understanding that I am not a casual drinker. I’ve made the mistake of thinking that because I so seldom go out anymore, I should be able to indulge on those rare occasions. However, the older I get, the more aware I am of how just one bad choice can lead to severe, if not fatal consequences. (And this, kids, is why you really need to let your frontal lobe develop before you get too caught up.)
Learning to walk away
It’s a boring journey, and I respectfully disagree with your opinion if you say otherwise. I don’t feel as though it is possible to go from the constant overstimulation and highs of this life without feeling like, “Will I never have fun again?” You know the lows are waiting for you when you come down the next day, but the absolute relentless boredom that comes from stepping away from the party scene and committing to staying away is hard to bear.
I wish I had better advice other than to just keep going. I basically have a supercut of all my most embarrassing and awful moments playing in the back of my head at any given time, which helps me stay on track, but if you’re looking for a means with less self-loathing, I’ll have to recommend you to someone else.
As boring as it is in practice, ultimately why I have made the choices I have is for the peace of it all. It’s to not wake up and worry I might have crossed a line with a friend, or awaken feeling like shit because I drank too much tequila with no food in my stomach. It’s to not waste whole weekends on benders, only to feel anxious, depressed, unmotivated and no closer to accomplishing anything. And, best of all, it’s because I can feel better about who I am, including how I show up in my own life and in the lives of the people I care about.
I very often crave the thrill that pulsated through my life before. I have chased thrills, and I have chased peace, and following the latter is what’s brought me to my favourite version of myself. When I was in the party scene, my lifestyle became a form of escapism. I didn’t have much to show for my time in clubs, on stages, or in the back of guys’ cars, other than a feeling that I was ‘in’ but missing out.
I grew up on Jersey Shore, Kesha, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. Being a child and a teenager in the peak party-girl era of Y2K made me impressionable, and it made the lifestyle seem sexy, fun and without remorse. I love dearly that there are girls who are 16, 21 and even 24 who are smart enough to be more guarded of their minds, bodies and spirits. I still see little black dresses, poppin’ bottles, and questionable decisions play out in my real life and on my social media feeds, but no one can ignore the shift towards a more sober or sober-conscious lifestyle.
Mocktails, dry bars and even dry months are everywhere, and the only reason they exist is because there is such an emphasis on not destroying oneself through alcohol and other substances. I am very hopeful for my own future and for the future of kids, especially young girls. My advice, with every ounce of love, is to enjoy life, seize life and participate in life—but know when to walk away when something isn’t serving you anymore.
If you are doing a dry January or are simply cutting back in 2024, I support you in your journey.
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image 1 Pexels; image 2: cottonbro studio; image 3: MART PRODUCTION
