Flirting with danger

At the beginning of this experiment I felt sad about giving up alcohol. I mourned the loss of the beer or wine I would have drunk when the occasions for them arose. Lately, I've felt more angry over this limitation, realizing that I have imposed it on myself. (See post of Aug. 19, beginning "Damn, I really want a beer.") This way of thinking jeopardizes the whole project.

Today, I was out of town, among strangers as well as friends, thirsty after a day's labor, and visiting a particular Mexican restaurant for the first time. I noticed the draft beer specials and ordered one. I did so knowingly and, if truth be told, spitefully. "What's so special about not drinking any alcohol?" I asked myself. "One beer in four weeks still counts as being on the wagon." The drinks came. One person in our group knew the significance of my order and expressed her surprise, even urging me to reconsider, while the others carried on regardless. I raised the glass, closed my eyes, and sipped. Thank God it was only Dos Equis, because the cheap beer taste struck my palate and marred my reunion with the brew. " "Prost," a tablemate said, so I raised it to my lips again.

After that I put it down and let eleven and a half ounces of beer just rest in the glass, which I did not pick up again. The unsatisfactory taste made it easier to stop, though in the past when drinking cheap commercial beer or unsuccessful homebrew, I've always finished what's in front of me and resolved to try something else for the next beer. Having another person nearby who knew what I was doing and having a partner in abstinence whom I would have to face sometime also helped me stop, though it did not prevent me from crossing the line in the first place. I'll tell you what tipped the balance: the thought - and it did not occur to me until after that first sip - that I would have to blog about this experience. Yes, dear reader, I could not bear to let you down.