I tried a margarita for the first time tonight. That's pretty run-of-the-mill Friday night stuff for many folks, but not for me. I felt like I grew up a bit at the moment that I decided to try it, and even more so when I tasted it. What a bitter beverage! Why do people love it so much? It was refreshing, and I do love lime, but this drink was like consuming a lime in the opposite manner that it was intended - inside out with lots of rinds and a little juice. The fun of the experience was satisfying my curiosity and sharing the experience with a friend. Sometimes those are not sufficient reasons to engage. In fact, sometimes, those are dangerous reasons to engage, particularly when engaging in a particular activity results in some irreversible outcome. This, of course, was not such an occasion, but it made me think of such things nonetheless.
My first time drinking alcohol was somewhere between sufficiently worthwhile and mildly (or not really) dangerous. I had my first drink when I was 22 years old. I was living on campus for the first time ever (in a dorm no less), after returning to school from a financial (read: involuntarily) hiatus. My roommate and friend, who spent a lot of time checking out new places around Dallas, would frequently invite me to join her. She is a Houston native and she had this local-adventurous vibe that I did not. I often declined, but we would talk about the places she went to and the experiences that she had. We also talked about the fact that I was not really one for drinking or dancing, which were often included in her local adventures. We talked about how I had never had alcohol, and how that choice was one that I had adopted from my upbringing, where we weren't even allowed to drink rootbeer as children, because "beer" was in the name. (I suppose my parents did not want that normalized in our minds.) We talked about how I had proudly owned the decision because I never wanted to impair my own judgment or counter my beliefs by drinking. We talked about the distinction between drinking and being drunk. And we talked about that unique place between fear and curiosity, where I often resided. She was like my cool and rebellious older sister, encouraging me to try new things and be a little braver. We both understood that I did not want to have the same life as her, but that I admired her ability to try new things fearlessly, as well as her adventurous spirit.
One night she pitched the idea of going out with just a few close friends to try a drink. The idea was to go someplace nice, where I could feel completely safe in the company of friends. We would enjoy a social drink and conversation, just as though we were going out for dinner, but with drinks instead. I was hesitant, but I liked the idea. We talked about it a few times throughout the semester, until one night, I decided to go for it. So off we went with a few other girlfriends to a cute little bar called The People's Last Stand. The bar was entirely different than I expected - quiet and calm - somewhere between chill and comfy (like a hipster church coffee shop). I felt a little out of place, but the environment was nice.
My friend offered to pay for my drink. The menu was descriptive enough for people who were accustomed to drinking, but unhelpful to someone like me, who couldn't tell vodka from tequila or whiskey from rum (I don't even know if those are good comparisons - they're the same colors, right?) I asked many questions and my friends were patient enough to answer them all. Finally, I asked for help making a decision, and my friend took it upon herself to surprise me. I hate to say that I can't recall what the drink was called or what was in it. What I do remember is that she had asked the bartender to make me the sweetest drink that he could make and the result involved strawberries and chocolate. It was a pretty pink drink, and it was, in fact sweet, but not sweet enough to mask the taste of alcohol. I tasted my friends' drinks too. The only drink I remember by name is the Sangria because I knew it to be my roomie's favorite drink.
On the whole, the experience was nice. I enjoyed a good time with friends and satisfied that often-perilous curiosity. I felt a little changed by the experience, but I needed a moment to process it. I also did not want to project that outwardly, since my friends were so sweet and patient with me as I moved at my own pace, which was pretty much a single half of a sip forward.
What my mind processed was that I could not undo what I had just done. I had finally had alcohol - and for what? A night out with friends? I didn't need alcohol for that. For the sake of my curiosity? That was hardly worthwhile - alcohol tasted (and smelled) horrible. I could have done just as well with a chocolate-strawberry milkshake. I would look back on that night as the night that I lost my alcohol-virginity. It seems dramatic (maybe it is), but I realized that I took a certain internal pride in the fact that I had never had a need to try it or a desire to consume it. I think there is a certain purity in choosing never to drink.
That being said, I do not believe that the choice to drink is wrong. It is a personal choice that you should make at the right time, for the right reasons, and with full confidence. What is done is done, so I move forward in light of what I learned. I learned that I never want to let my curiosity outweigh my convictions, even when they seem more like personal preferences. I learned that I absolutely hate the taste of alcohol. I learned that I could have a drink without the slightest worry that it would go too far. That is simply not who I am.
I did not drink again for a long time, but when the time came to "drink socially", I had little fear or apprehension. I typically opted for a non-alcoholic beverage, and if I felt like having a little fun, a virgin pina colada. Occasionally, if the drink of choice was Mike's Hard Lemonade or Seagrams, I drank (or more like sipped) in solidarity. I once tried rum from a bottle that my brother had been gifted. It smelled like pure vanilla, and I figured it might taste as lovely as it smelled. It did not, which makes sense, since I'm not in the habit of drinking vanilla. I had tried it when I was alone in the house, and when I told my brother about it, he laughed. Apparently rum is typically combined with another drink like coke. The first time I finished an entire bottle of Seagrams was last year, during a game night at my sister's house. It was unceremonious, but noteworthy - like a kid finishing all of his veggies for the first time. Of course veggies are good for you. The ability to drink (without spitting out your drink like I did when I first tried rum) can also be advantageous in that it enables you to engage in proper settings where social drinking is required, as in certain cultures. It has also enabled me to try new drinks with friends, like I did tonight, which is nice.
Still, if I ever invite you out for drinks, know that means boba tea or coffee!