In a recent blog article Kylie, of Podblack Cat fame, discusses the
trials and tribulations of being a non-drinker - specifically, an Australian (
or is that un-Australian) non-drinker - of alcohol (
I'm not a big fan of the term "non-drinker" since I think we'd be dead if we didn't drink - something! But that's a distraction here so ignore it for now, please.)
Thanks Kylie. I think I have mentioned once on your blog that, as a teetotaller, I find the concept of "Skeptics in the Pub" just a little off-putting. Actually, I probably said that even if there was a such a group meeting held anywhere near me (
there are no sceptic meetings held anywhere near me), I would be unlikely to attend.
Unlike Kylie, I have never felt compelled to pretend to be one of the crowd. I have always had a streak of what some might call "arrogance" that has enabled me to resist being peer pressured into doing something I simply do not want to do. Drinking and smoking top that list. I've tasted alcohol. As kids we'd down a little brandy in Coke
TM or something for new year's eve (
with parents present). As a teenager I'd have an occasional shandy which consisted almost entirely of lemonade and just a whiff of beer. That's about it. Since the age of somewhere around 19 I haven't had alcohol pass my lips.
This comes with it's share of problems in a society where drinking alcohol is taken for granted. I've won raffles where first prize is a bottle or two of wine. Sometimes I just take it and figure I'll give it away at some point but if I elect to take second prize instead (
if it isn't also wine, as it often is) I'll likely get strange looks. People are often intrigued to know "why" I don't drink. That's how bizarre it really is - it must be questioned. The answer must surely be fascinating. It isn't. I just don't want to.
Also, as Podblack also notes, some functions simply don't cater for non-drinkers at all, offering nothing but alcoholic beverages. If you're lucky, there's one bottle of orange juice buried among the case-loads of alcoholic abundance. If you're really lucky, it won't already be empty when you find it.
Podblack also tells of the awkwardness of not "charging a glass" of champagne in a celebratory toast. I've used Coke
TM, orange juice, lemonade, water and even an empty glass in such situations - including my own wedding. If anyone had a problem with that, it was their problem not mine - which is not to suggest that such moments lack awkwardness. I am entirely familiar with much of what Podblack has written about, except for the bits that apply to women (
If someone accused me of being anti-feminist, I might just thank them. But again, that's another story, let's not get distracted.)
It's true that pressure is applied to non-drinkers to conform but I guess I've always felt that each additional attempt to convince me of the need to join the mob was just a further indication of the other person's insecurities. I don't mind an argument, especially one about wills, and while I'd just as soon avoid them, this is where my self-assuredness, or arrogance if you like, kicks in and I feel in a slightly superior position. It's not comfortable by any stretch, but I will hold my ground and allow my sarcastic streak to deal with the situation.
I recall once, in my early twenties (
I'm now somewhere around 50), being among a group of mainly "blokes", all drinking except for me. I was quite happily engaged in the jovial conversation (
most were sober, non were yet paralytic) and had no problem with others imbibing. We were at a camp ground so no one was driving home afterward. But one guy suddenly decided it was his responsibility to
break me in. He insisted I take one of his beers. I declined. He handed me a stubby and repeated his insistence. I declined and put the bottle down.
After this was repeated a few times he took the top of the bottle, shoved it back at me and dictated, "
there, now you have to drink it". I held the bottle and slowly tilted it, right before his eyes, until the contents began to empty onto the ground. Suddenly sharing his beer didn't seem like such a good idea and he retrieved it so as to ensure the sacred elixir wasn't wasted.
Apparently it matters where the contents are poured. Down the gullet of an unappreciative non-drinker is okay, onto the lawn, not so okay. Thinking back, I should have spat in the bottle - oh the fun we could have had then!
Others in more day-to-day situations seem compelled to play the patronisation card. When I tell them I don't drink, they'll usually first scoff (
I'm an Aussie bloke, I must be lying.) then say something like "
Wow, that's really cool, I wish I could do that". I usually struggle not to respond "
no, you don't". It's patronising. I don't drink alcohol because I don't want to. I'm not a reformed alcoholic, I don't have diabetes or heart disease - I actually, surprisingly apparently, choose not to drink alcohol. I don't need the congratulations or adulation of someone who does drink it to make me feel better about my choice.
As for buying rounds at the pub - don't get me started on that ritual which was obviously invented by brewers intent on maximising sales of their product. If I understand the rules correctly, you must consume the equivalent of at least one glass of alcohol for every member in the group, regardless of numbers. If you don't swallow that number of drinks, then there are two possible problems - either you're an anti-social piker who's too damned weak to hold their liquor - OR, even more damning, someone didn't shout for their round!
What has this to do with scepticism you ask? Everything, I answer. Not just because of a tendency for sceptics to hold their meetings around a jug or two of lager but because of the sociological underpinnings of the apparent "need" to consume. From the finest wines (
spoken in the clearest of Queen's English with one pinky raised) to home brew draught (
spoken with your best ocker accent and your jeans hanging 'round yer arse, mate), the world of alcohol is filled with ritualistic behaviours. I have often considered it to be akin to religion as it harbours many of the affirmations and resentments of partakers and abstainers respectively that various religious denominations exhibit.
It's not just accepted in the wider community, it's damned-near compulsory - but not quite, yet.