There was a point a few years ago when I realised something slightly strange: I didn’t actually enjoy drinking that much.
Not in the dramatic, never touching alcohol again kind of way. I just started questioning why I was doing it in the first place.
In the UK, it can feel like so much of our socialising revolves around alcohol. First dates, dinners with friends, family get togethers, work parties, birthdays, holidays. There’s often an expectation that drinking is simply part of the occasion.
The thing was, I never really had that feeling people describe where they’re desperate for a glass of wine or a cold beer at the end of the day.
Friends would talk about how much they were looking forward to a drink that evening, and I could never particularly relate. I liked going out. I liked the social side of it. I liked restaurants, bars, music and nights out. I just wasn’t convinced I particularly liked the drinking part.
Then a couple of friends went completely sober and, perhaps more importantly, continued to have perfectly good social lives.
They were still going for dinner. Still going to parties. Still going to events and nights out. They just weren’t drinking.
That made me question my own relationship with alcohol a bit more.
I decided I didn’t need to go completely sober, but I could certainly drink less.
And I have.
My drinking has dropped pretty dramatically over the last few years. I’m not completely sober and I’m certainly not going to pretend I’ll never have a drink again, but alcohol has gone from being an automatic part of going out to something I actually think about.
There seems to be a shift happening in the way people socialise. Being sober doesn’t have to mean staying in, leaving every party at 9pm or becoming the person who brings their own kombucha to a dinner party.
There’s a middle ground.
Call it sober-ish, moderation or mindful drinking. Whatever you call it, the idea is simple: alcohol doesn’t have to be the main event.
You can still go for dinner, head to a gig or spend the evening in a cocktail bar with your mates without feeling like the night revolves around how much everyone drinks.
And, if anything, I think that can make going out more enjoyable.
The appeal of the big night out has changed for me. I’d much rather go somewhere good, have a decent dinner, enjoy a couple of drinks and actually remember the conversation than spend the entire night trying to keep pace with everyone else.
There’s also the increasingly important question of what happens the next day.
When you’re younger, losing an entire Saturday to a hangover can feel like an acceptable trade off for a good Friday night. Eventually, it just starts to feel like a terrible deal.
There’s a gym session you want to do. Somewhere you want to go. A long lunch. A run. Even just the simple pleasure of waking up feeling normal.
The older I’ve got, the less appealing it is to sacrifice an entire day for a few extra drinks the night before.
That doesn’t mean nightlife is disappearing.
If anything, I think people still want to go out. They just want the experience to be worth it.
Good restaurants, proper cocktail bars, live music, clubs, day parties and events all offer something beyond simply drinking.
And perhaps that’s where the sober-ish night out comes in.
It’s not about being anti alcohol. It’s about taking away the idea that drinking is compulsory.
You can have one drink. You can have three. You can switch to a non-alcoholic option. You can decide not to drink at all.
And you can still have a brilliant night.
For me, that has been the biggest realisation. I didn’t have to stop going out just because I wanted to drink less.
I just had to stop assuming that the two things went hand in hand.
Maybe the future of going out is simply about having more choice.
You can still have a big night. You can still have a couple of drinks. Or you can call it a night after dinner and wake up feeling great the next morning.
None of those choices should mean missing out.
