Dry January is not as difficult as you think
Cody Parkey’s kick double-doinked off the Soldier Field uprights to cost the Bears a playoff game against the Eagles and in that moment, unlike many Chicagoans who were mourning the Bears loss, I stopped drinking.
It wasn’t that I had some deep mental reaction to the Bears losing a first round playoff game. I got over that about ten minutes after the game ended. Rather, my girlfriend and I just decided to start Dry January a week later since we were vacationing on the beach for the first week of the month and, well, didn’t want to not have a cocktail or two by the beach.
2019 marked the first year that I have done Dry January, and today marks my 31st consecutive day without a drink. This is easily the longest I’ve gone in my adult life without drinking for any number of reasons.
Alcohol is so inextricably intertwined with our culture in 2019 that just about every occasion calls for a drink. Bad day at work? That calls for a glass of wine! Brunch? Can’t have brunch without mimosas and Bloody Marys! Watching a game? How about a beer or six to pass the time! Going on a first date? Chances are you’re going to have a drink before the date to work up the courage, or a drink or two during the date to keep the conversation going.
Alcohol is also, for better or worse, a part of my persona. My fondness for bourbon and craft beer is well chronicled. More than a few of my friends either own, manage, or work in bars around Chicago. They’re good people and I like to support them.
In fact, when I told my dad that I was doing a Dry January, he said something to the effect of “Wow, that must feel like a marathon.”
I thought about it for a second. I’ve run three marathons, so I know what running one is like, and, well, Dry January is more like running a 5k in a slight drizzle. Slightly inconvenient at times? Sure. Something that is ultimately good for you and gives you a slight sense of accomplishment once it’s over? Absolutely.
Because here’s the thing about Dry January — It’s not as hard or as unpleasant as it sounds. You can still go to bars, hang out with your friends, and be social. You just…don’t drink. Simple as that.
You’re not — or you shouldn’t be at least — placing yourself in quarantine, although some people think that’s what Dry January is. Numerous times throughout this 31 day stretch, friends would ask me if it was okay if we went to a place that served alcohol or if that’d be too difficult. I went to fancy restaurants, dive bars, sports bars with my friends and family throughout the month. Heck, I went to a Super Bowl party where everyone was drinking but my girlfriend and I. It wasn’t that difficult.
After the first day or two of not drinking, the urge goes away. You don’t miss waking up the next morning feeling sluggish. You do sleep better. You have more energy — and motivation — to work out in the morning. It is, frankly, kind of nice.
What I did find — rather hilariously — is that my imbibing habits were similar when I wasn’t drinking to what they were when I was. For instance, when I went out to a sports bar with my friends to watch the AFC and NFC championship games, I was slamming iced teas the same way they were slamming beers, but my bill was a whole lot cheaper.
That was the most pleasant surprise about going a 31 day stretch without alcohol is the amount of money that I saved throughout the month. I noticed this the first time my girlfriend and I went out with friends during Dry January. Our combined — combined — drinks tab was $4, or roughly 1/4 the price of a single cocktail that one of our friends had. So much of the cost of a night out comes from the amount of money that you spend on alcohol. Not spending that money solely for the sake of spending money was a real nice change of pace.
I’m also — oddly enough — not in a hurry to have another drink anytime soon. Throughout the past 31 days, my friends would ask me what my first drink was going to be once this was all over with, as though I was a death row inmate plotting out my last meal. Honestly? I might have a beer on Friday or Saturday, or I might not. But I definitely don’t feel the urge to rush right out and have a drink just because I successfully went a month without having one.
