Last month, I celebrated my five-year soberversary. I’ve been alcohol-free since February 20, 2020. WILD.

Five years is a long time. It’s so long, in fact, that being alcohol-free has lost its novelty, almost doesn’t feel worth celebrating. It’s just another something about me, like the mole on my left arm or my drive to write stories.

In considering what to write about this non-celebratory, but kind of big milestone, I kept drawing a blank. I’ve already shared much of my wisdom, if you want to call it that, about quitting alcohol, in years past, when it was newer and exciting. Now I’m old news, and so is my not drinking. All my friends know, all of you know.

But for two reasons, I decided to whip something up. And in celebration of my five-year soberversary, I’m sharing the 5 things I never thought I’d do without alcohol.

There is so much myth about quitting alcohol, and the idea that you’ll be “lacking” if you do is the biggest myth of all. I’ve learned to do things I never thought possible without alcohol, and it turns out most of them are better now. So, let’s talk about it.

But Why?

The reasons I decided, ultimately, to write this thing at all are:

1. Five years is a big deal. I definitely did not imagine going five years without drinking when I gave it up for 40 days five years ago.
2. Other people should know what it’s like.

Every time I’ve written about quitting alcohol, telling my personal “why” story, or noting the perks of life without alcohol, I’ve gotten more response than maybe any other topic. I’m not trying to be an influencer here, but it seems like some people like this stuff. They might be sober-curious, they might be battling addiction, they might just be reevaluating their relationship with alcohol and consuming in a different way, but people reach out. They tell me congratulations, they ask follow-up questions, they tell me how long they’ve been doing the alcohol-free thing. It is really cool to connect with people in this way. It is cool to be a different voice than they may have heard in sober spaces before.

I was thinking that celebrating, publicly, my five years, or at least talking about it, might do some good for someone. I’m not here to evangelize sobriety, I don’t care who drinks or doesn’t, but if my little post lands on the right person’s screen, it could be impactful. They might feel less alone, and importantly, way more hopeful. They might even feel excited about this thing they’ve been thinking about.

Background & Caveats

The origin story is here: Six Months of Sober: Why I Quit Drinking

The one-year anniversary post is here: 1 Year Sober | The Hardest Part of Quitting Alcohol

And the Two-year soberversary post is here: Two Year Soberversary & The Shit People Don’t Tell You About Quitting Alcohol

I’m not going to recount all the same old stuff, but I will note here, in the beginning, that my alcohol-free life is not necessarily typical. I’m not in a 12-step program, I don’t call myself sober, and I don’t struggle with battling the desire for alcohol. I’m fine to be around it and sip a seltzer, and in fact I end up in bars now and again with friends. My social circle consists of some other dry folks, and many people who consume. It’s a mixed bag. In other words, being “sober” is not the biggest thing in my life—far from it.

There is a lot of privilege in my situation. I’m reaping the benefits of quitting alcohol (health, sense of self, aging backwards) but I haven’t had to give up much of my past life to do it. I’ve maintained my old friendships, and I don’t feel excluded from any particular social setting. I’m acknowledging this so that my post about the things I never thought I could do without alcohol (but can—surprise, surprise!) doesn’t come off as tone deaf or ignorant. We’re all in different boats. All I can attest to is my own and the way I’m rowing it.

Here are five things I never thought I’d do without alcohol

(Plus one bonus)

1. Date

This is one of the biggest on the list. How would I muddle my way through awkward first dates, I wondered, if I weren’t able to take the edge off? I had never dated anyone who didn’t drink before, and when I was drinking it would have been a no-go for me. What would we do on the weekends? Watch movies? Sit around and look at each other? (I’m giving away how absolutely uncreative and not fun booze made my brain. I literally didn’t know how else to spend my time.)

I worried not only that drinking would dull the excitement of new partners but would also significantly limit my prospects.

LOL

Y’all know I am perpetually single-and-dating. I have been for longer than these past five years and not drinking didn’t stop that. I didn’t suddenly settle down with someone now that alcohol was out of my life, and I also didn’t go five years without first dates and relationships, and sex, in case you’re wondering. Dating without alcohol has felt largely the same, but better.

First of all, I’m never going to “accidentally” make out with someone I don’t like. Whew! Not sad to see that go. Second, I won’t *think* I like someone just because we got drunk together. When alcohol lowers our inhibitions and allows us to speak more freely, open up, become social, talk to strangers—all of that stuff drinkers know and love—it can produce a little euphoric feeling. That feeling may have nothing to do with the person you’re sitting next to on a date, but who’s to say? Feelings are blurry. It happened to me plenty, in my past life, that I would have so much fun out partying with someone, only to realize later, after several more dates or several more months, that we actually have nothing in common. That maybe I didn’t like them as a person, maybe didn’t like them at all.

Third: I am a WAY more confident date now that I don’t drink. I’m more confident in general, which makes me hotter on first (and second) dates. The biggest gift being dry has given me is my confidence.

Lastly, I’m a better partner without alcohol. (Don’t ask my exes, they’re just haters.) Kidding, kidding. But for real, nobody likes dealing with their partner blacking out or being hung over in the morning. And because I am never drunk or tipsy or out of control of myself, I almost NEVER say things I don’t mean and I almost never say things that are mean. I can show up in a much healthier way for my romantic partners (and all the other people in my life, too.)

2. Dance

“I have a three drink minimum” I said time and time again, waiting for the alcohol to kick in so that I could get onto the dance floor. What the hell?!

It makes me sad to think I was so self-conscious that I wouldn’t even go move my body without alcohol. Dancing is FUN! To be clear, I’m not a good dancer. But now my worry about what others think of me is seriously, significantly diminished. Who cares if they don’t like it? My little nephew dances his ass off to the literal weirdest music I have ever heard, and he has a BLAST doing it. Why should I have to be impressive to let myself have fun? The other thing I realized is that most other people on the dance floor are drinking, giving me a big advantage. They have *no idea* what I’m doing, whether I’m drinking, or whether I look hot or stupid. They are probably drunk, trying to make themselves comfortable enough to have fun moving their bodies in public. And when I really want to fuck up the dancefloor, and dance like no one is watching, I just let everyone assume I’m white girl wasted. It really takes the pressure off being “good” at dancing.

I’ve danced at weddings, in gay clubs, in cathedral squares in Europe. The place I dance most is in my room, obviously, but no matter where I am, it feels good to need only the music, and not three of anything else, to have a good time.

3. Make Friends

When I realized my experiment with not drinking might turn into a long-term thing, one of the biggest concerns I had was about friends: Keeping the ones I had and making new ones.

I was worried my old friends, who I’d partied with for years, wouldn’t be able to relate to me anymore. I worried when we hung out, they’d think I was boring, and I’d find their drinking annoying. In my early days of not drinking, I had this fear before hanging out with each different friend group for the first time. Over the course of one successful friend hang after another, I discovered that mostly it was fine. I still liked my friends, and they still liked me. We still had fun hanging out, regardless of what we were drinking. It was a huge relief.

Now, five years older and having the confidence that living without alcohol will give you, I have no concerns being able to make or keep friends. I put this to the test when I started a new chapter, in a city far away, and made making friends my mission. Ten months into living in San Diego I have a social life that is more vibrant, fun, and full than I’ve had in years. Not drinking alcohol hasn’t impacted my ability to make friends in this city at all.

If your friends are unsupportive of your healthy choices, consider that it is the “friendship”, and not your healthy choices, that need to be reconsidered.

4. Travel

Don’t get me wrong, I knew I would still be traveling after I stopped drinking. I am a flight attendant, ffs, and I’m not about to be working in metal tubes for 14 hours at a time, dealing with some of the worst people on earth, and not reaping the rewards of free or cheap travel.

That being said, prior to quitting alcohol, drinking was a bit part of my travel experiences. I liked going on pub crawls, wine tastings, to beer factories, toasting locals, dancing in clubs until three in the morning, after my aforementioned “three-drink minimum”. I wondered how sober travel would feel. I imagined a sense of lacking, something missing.

Probably not surprisingly, if you’ve been following along, it hasn’t been what I expected. Travel is probably better now that I don’t drink. Going to sleep sober and waking up fresh allows me to get up and at ‘em in the morning and kick off my daytime activities. I see more cultural and historical sites in cities, I do better, longer hikes on my outdoorsy trips, I get to see the beach before it’s packed with people, if it’s that kind of trip. Sometimes I still start my day late, but that means sleeping in and then sitting quietly, sipping good coffee, mapping out my day. It’s glorious.

“But what do you do at night?”

Well, glad you asked. I eat late dinners. I go for long, leisurely strolls, taking in the city lights, the partygoers out and about, the vibe of it all. I sip decaf cappuccinos and eat decadent deserts. And sometimes I even go to bars—a girl still likes to dance and socialize! The nice thing about not drinking, even if I am hanging out in bars, is there is no pressure to stay up super late. Have I gone to bed on vacation at two or three in the morning in the past five years? Sure, I have. But it’s wayyyy less frequent than in my old life. I like having the option of nighttime socializing, but I don’t want to do it all the time. I don’t like the night bleeding into my mornings, robbing me of my good energy.

**It should be said that before I stopped drinking, I started my foray into traveling alone. This probably made it easier for me to transition into travel sans-alcohol. When you are a solo female traveler, there is less opportunity to go out and get drunk, because it isn’t safe. (Thanks, men!) I still drank when I traveled alone, but it would be a glass of wine with dinner, one beer in a pub, a shot of mezcal with my language exchange group. Very rarely did drinking turn into “one of those nights” because I felt I needed to keep watch of myself and my surroundings. (Also, because getting drunk by yourself just isn’t that fun.) I got used to going home alone at a reasonable hour during these long solo trips, and that helped me out with the not drinking stuff later.

5. Grieve

If this one isn’t the hardest of all.

I can think, distinctly, of the two worst times in my life. I was grieving, felt lost and alone, my entire world seemed black, and both of those times were in the last five years. I remember thinking many, many times “If I still drank, I’d be drinking now.”

Listen, feelings are fucking hard. And honestly, so is life. There is no way to avoid it, and it’s as hard to go through your darkest days without the numbing comfort of alcohol as it is to recover from surgery without pain meds. It just sucks.

But there is a benefit, too.

For one thing, you might actually face your problems instead of burying them under a pool of liquor. You know, feel the feelings, acknowledge them, start healing. That whole process starts with feeling it. The second benefit is that healing is faster while sober.

This is unscientific, of course, but it’s a hill I’ll die on. Hear me out. When you drink to drown your sorrows, they don’t go away, right? What you’re actually doing is numbing—temporarily. Then when you wake up in the harsh light of day, all your same problems still exist. The longer you push those feelings out of your mind, try to drink them into retreat, the longer the healing process will take. When you’re feeling fully the agony of life’s dark, twisted curveballs, without anything to dull the senses, you’ve got no choice but to take it step by step, wave of emotion after wave of emotion, until eventually, one glorious day, you realize you’re kind of okay. Eventually you get more okay. Drinking may provide some relief in the moment, but it also prolongs the process. Gives you time off from being a present person, from sitting with the pain. And unfortunately time (and therapy) are the only things that actually work.

It’s not that I think no one who drinks can heal from trauma or grief. I just think it can take a lot longer if you’re using alcohol to cope. (I also think it can cause additional, distracting side problems, like hangovers, or saying shit you don’t mean to people you love.)

I hate feeling feelings. But what am I going to do? Forfeit this gift of human exitance? Because it hurts sometimes? Pshhhhhh.

BONUS:

6. Have Fun

By far the biggest misconception about giving up alcohol is that you will no longer be fun or have fun. L O L.

Does spending a month trekking through Spain and meeting people from all around the world sound fun? What about learning to Scuba dive in Tulum, Mexico? Black water rafting in New Zealand and comedy shows in London? Does any of that sound like fun? These are just a few of the many FUN things I’ve done while sober. When I’m home in San Diego, you can find me at my weekly run club, which is way more about socializing than running, attending events like concerts and soccer games, going for hikes, laying on the beach, and even DaNciNg at the bar with my friends. There is no shortage of fun in my life AT ALL. In fact, I might be having more fun right now than I have in decades.

Ultimately, life is what you make it. It might feel weird at first, trying to socialize without alcohol, especially if you spent your early adulthood drinking. But I promise you, it can be so, so good. You take on one scary thing at a time—dancing, dating, hanging with friends—and little by little your confidence grows. You start to see, with each success, how much you didn’t need the alcohol at all, how much personality you really have, what an awesome fucking person you are. It becomes easier to have fun because you’re not wearing a mask. You’re not numbing out. You’re just here, being yourself, doing the thing. It’s kind of thrilling, feels like a superpower almost.

The nice thing is that, for various reasons, more and more people are quitting alcohol, making the lifestyle more mainstream and easier than ever. There are meetup groups dedicated to doing fun things without alcohol, SO many bars carry non-alcoholic beer or mocktails, there is even a new “bar” opening in San Diego which won’t serve any alcohol at all. Instead, it will be a social space where people can sip non-alcoholic beverages and hang out, attend events, meet people, listen to music, and, you know, have fun.

If you’re thinking about quitting alcohol but are worried your social life will suffer, you should consider whether you’re actually trying to have fun or just continuing on your path out of fear. I can’t promise you your social life will feel the same as it has, and I can’t promise you’ll have SO MUCH FUN. But what I can promise you is it is possible. I am living proof of that.