Alcohol is deeply ingrained in our culture. From an early age, we are introduced to its presence—first with curiosity, then as something forbidden, which only makes it more tempting. And when we finally reach the legal drinking age, we often dive in headfirst, making the most of our newfound freedom.
We drink to celebrate. We drink when we’re happy, sad, tired—whatever the occasion, alcohol seems to fit. But what about those who choose not to drink? There’s often a stigma around them, as if we can’t comprehend how someone navigates life sober all the time. After all, life is tough, and sometimes we just want to unwind with a drink. And honestly? That’s okay. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.
Lately, though, I’ve been asking myself:
Do I Really Need It?
Everyone has their own reasons for drinking. Personally, I don’t seek the feeling of being drunk or the warmth of alcohol coursing through my veins. I drink because I enjoy the ritual—the taste of good wine, the way conversations flow more effortlessly with a glass in hand. I wouldn’t call myself a big drinker, yet the thought of quitting entirely crosses my mind more often than I expected.
It’s not the occasional glass of wine that bothers me. It’s the second glass that disrupts my sleep. It’s the shared bottle that sometimes leads to a headache the next day. I love my mornings. I love waking up full of energy, ready to take on the day. And I hate when alcohol robs me of that.
The tricky thing about drinking is how easily it escalates. You pour a glass while chatting with friends, and before you know it, the glass is empty. So you pour another to keep the conversation going. And then another. Suddenly, you’re tipsy. The next morning, you wake up with a dry mouth, an unpleasant aftertaste, and a twinge of regret. You tell yourself, Never again. Until next time.
Maybe Quitting Is Not Only For Quitters?
I’ve been reflecting on this more since listening to Bad Drunk by Millie Mackintosh. I’ve followed Millie for years—ever since moving to the UK, when I watched Made in Chelsea to practice my English. I always admired her: beautiful, classy, always smiling, successful. But listening to her audiobook, I realized how much she’s been through.
I wouldn’t call myself a “bad drunk,” but so much of what she shared resonated with me. Her experiences, her struggles—they struck a chord in ways I hadn’t expected. I genuinely believe everyone should read or listen to this book. It’s eye-opening. It’s freeing. It’s full of hope.
If you’ve ever felt like alcohol led you to say or do things you wouldn’t sober, or if you’ve ever questioned whether drinking serves you, this book is for you. And even if you haven’t, I still think it’s worth reading. You might be surprised by what you take away from it.
Whatever you decide to do,
Love
The Snob