Incomplete commitment

Well, instead of staying wholly on the wagon, I have kept my resolution on weekdays and bowed to social pressure on the weekend. I drew a parentheses around the first Saturday of the new regime in order to enjoy an evening of beer and music-making. Having established that precedent, I have allowed myself a glass or two on subsequent Saturdays and Sundays.

The difference is that I don't have a committed partner in the experiment this time. Another difference is that I'm doing it for health reasons. From this point of view, partial abstinence is still an improvement and worth something. From a strictly moral point of view, one slip contaminates the purity of the whole enterprise.

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.

It's hard to refuse an offer of a drink without seeming to reject someone's hospitality. We have family staying with us this week, and I worry that I'm withdrawing from the festivities and not honoring them if I don't have a drink with them. It's hard also not to offer someone a drink and still feel like a good host.

If I were acting out of moral conviction about the evils of alcohol I might not feel this embarrassment. I am acting instead out of a sense of curiosity and of personal challenge. Now I see that abstaining from alcohol for an extended period will require some readjustments in my social interactions.

One makes decisions for oneself, but then commitments must be played out in social settings. Therefore, part of the resolve to change behavior should include discussion with those in one's social circle, for they will have the power to reinforce or undermine the commitment one has made personally. I made my decision in secret to the surprise of those who have served me drinks in the past.