Why I drink but don?t get drunk

We’ve all heard it, and many of us have participated in it. The Sunday morning conversation filled with its requisite reveling about the most wild, crazy, out-of-control — and therefore coolest — highlights from the night before. With few exceptions, these conversations glorify drunkenness and intimidate would-be dissenters from challenging that status quo. After all, alcohol is at the heart of most campus party scenes, so much so that “drinking” tends to be as synonymous with the college experience as words like “class,” “athletics” or “dorm.”

Like many at Princeton, I was swept up into the drinking scene as soon as I was handed a beer on the Street during Frosh Week. In the subsequent months, that initial beer was followed by pregames, a post-Dean’s Date marathon drinking binge, throwing up, drinking games and all the rest. Freshman year ran its course, and I saw a side of alcohol I’d had very little experience with prior to Princeton. Seeing the sinister underbelly of drunkenness at parties and eating clubs quickly increased the sobriety with which I viewed my own approach to drinking. However, I still don’t have a problem with drinking per se. A nice bottle of wine or a cold pint (especially of Blue Moon) is wonderful on a date, with family or while catching up with old buddies. However, my early experiences at Princeton taught me that casual drinking and getting drunk are two distinct choices with hugely disparate consequences.

I (sort of) remember one night in particular: my post-Dean’s Date fiasco. I had finished all my fall semester Dean’s Date work and then joined up with some friends for a pad thai dinner supplemented by plentiful amounts of booze. Having only drunk several beers a night up to that point, I hadn’t yet discovered my limits and considered myself a “tank.” As I took shots and downed beers, I didn’t even bother to count, knowing that I was somewhere south of 10 drinks and therefore probably doing fine. Being an inexperienced freshman, I didn’t think about the fact that alcohol would hang out in my body for more than an hour or two. So an hour after dinner I hit a pregame and eventually the Street, assuming that the alcohol from dinner had already worn off. Of course I was wrong; the additional drinks quickly compounded my buzz and, soon enough, got me drunk without me even realizing it.

Twelve hours later I woke up confused. “Where am I? What happened?” I yelled at my roommate, panicking slightly. As he explained that I’d had too much to drink and that he’d had to walk me home, it dawned on me that I’d made a big mistake. It turned out I’d consumed somewhere around 18 drinks, forgotten part of the night and danced with girls I could hardly even remember. Whether it’s best to call my experience a blackout, brownout or simple stupidity, I don’t know. But I do know that, as I sat there piecing together what had happened, I was scared. I was scared at what I had done without remembering it, but even more so at what I could have done had I not had supportive friends by my side. I also remember the disappointment. Thinking about how I’d lost control of myself made me sicker than the puking I’d done on the way home. Who I had been that night wasn’t the man I aspired to be, and I was ashamed.

This experience in particular, and one or two others similar to it, made me realize on a deep level how much I wanted to stay in control when drinking alcohol. I decided I never wanted to get drunk again. I didn’t want to wake up not knowing where I was or what I’d done the night before. I didn’t want to be a burden to friends trying to have a good time. I didn’t want to be the guy that others laughed at the next morning over brunch. And I definitely didn’t want the guilt of giving myself over to an influence that compromised my ability to live out my core beliefs.

If you’ve read my columns, you probably know that I’m a serious Christian, and I’d be misleading you if I didn’t acknowledge that glorifying God was also at the heart of why I decided to no longer get drunk. But I mention this last because I think that choosing to not get drunk is still honorable and rational outside the context of Christianity. From the standpoint of respecting others, keeping a clear head, acting responsibly and still having fun nights out, abstaining from drunkenness is often an extremely satisfying decision.

With that said, I’m not here to point fingers, condemn or be self-righteous. I share my story and honest thoughts because I’ve found that drinking in moderation — and avoiding drunkenness — has left me fulfilled and at peace with my social life. I can go out, have a great time and enjoy a couple of beers with awesome people without the downside of extreme alcohol use.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I drink but don’t get drunk.