I read somewhere that the Warning Labels on cigarettes are actually a subliminal advertisement: people smoke because it’s dangerous. It made me ponder (till my ponder-er got sore). Can the same be said for wine? Why did I used to drink?
One: It was something to do with my hands.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awkward at parties and gatherings. With a glass of wine, there’s none of those weird, nervous, shuffling, what-do-I-do-with-my-hands moments. And standing in line at the open bar has purpose. And you meet people.
Two: I liked the taste and the feel and the buzz.
There is nothing like a crisp, icy cold glass of wine in a thin flute. It even sounds delicious, right? And the buzz was like an old friend, softening the very sharp edges.
Three: It was a hobby.
I have gift wine glasses, and wine glass jewelry, and wine cozies, and humorous cocktail napkins and plaques with aphorisms and coffee table books. All about wine. It was a hobby.
Four: It made me funnier and bigger than life.
Everyone says I’m funnier now, but I’m not buying it.
Five: Everyone else did.
I’m not tattling… What I’ve realized is that unlike me, the friends I have who drink, might drink up a storm on a Saturday night. But the next day, they nurse their hangovers, go to work, drive their cars, go to church, take care of the children – the household chores, without a THOUGHT to drinking. There’s precious little danger in it.