Alcohol removes inhibitions – like that scared little mouse who got drunk and shook his whiskers and shouted: ‘Now bring on that damn cat!'”
– Eleanor Early
For whatever reason, the phrases “let’s have a drink” and “let’s have a conversation” hit the brain a little differently. Even if the intention is exactly the same, there is something about the addition of a beverage – alcoholic or otherwise – that promises a casual, relaxed atmosphere. Nothing to worry about here – just having a drink! Even before the drink is consumed, the idea of having one seems to serve as a social lubricant.
Sharing a drink – or anything else in close proximity – is a little more complicated at the moment, which brings me to this week. Oh who am I kidding, the last eight months.
You’re on Mute
When the pandemic first hit and the phrase “social distancing” started to appear; before our jobs ruined the fun with endless video meetings and dreaded virtual happy hours, everyone was really excited to schedule Zoom Drinks. Interestingly, these formerly unique social gatherings weren’t just for people you’d normally spend time with (say, at a weekly sporting event or Saturdays at the pub); it seemed that people wanted to connect with EVERYONE.
Suddenly, everyone from close family to the casual acquaintances you used to bump into and promise “drinks soon, okay?” were right there, on your computer screen, in your living room, talking about whatever craft beer or cocktail they had in their hand. After the first few of these Zoom Drinks, I had a few thoughts:
- My liver will never recover from this.
- Pretty much everyone stares at their own face the entire time.
- Camera angles.
- Has the lighting in my house always been this bad??
- Trying to be casual while facing a camera produces the most awkward body language. Picture a cross between a job interview and talking to a nearly deaf grandparent, but with alcohol.
- It’s actually impossible to answer the question “what’s new?” without “uuuhhh haha well not a whole lot…” no matter how many times you are asked in an infinite number of video calls.
- You become the most inebriated on calls with either terrible or perfect sound/video quality. The middle ground does not exist.
All silliness aside, it was actually pretty incredible to see what came out of the first months of our new digital reality. I started hearing from people I hadn’t spoken with in months and others that I’d never actually shared a casual drink with before. The social distancing rules redefined what “meaningful connection” could look like, and this new series of online platforms made it so easy. All of a sudden, people became starved for connection – it was as if the loss of potential future encounters was enough to inspire panic (not entirely unlike the great toilet paper rush). Maybe we collectively realized that we really don’t know what tomorrow will look like and that “drinks soon, okay?” may never actually happen. We simultaneously lost both our opportunities to connect and our excuses not to.
$24 Cocktails and other Distractions
When I originally planned to have a drink with an old friend I saw it going a little differently. I imagined a cute little cocktail bar, an overly-pretentious gastro pub, or a hole in the wall dive bar. I imagined loud music, a small round table, a needlessly dark room, and a share-plate of appetizers (remember when we touched each other’s food?? *panic-sprays Lysol*). I imagined one too many $24 drinks; I imagined an Uber ride (or an awkward stumble) home. Most of all, after a few drinks, I imagined a real, unvarnished conversation. (For my extroverted friends: at least two of those drinks were intended to strip off the aforementioned social “varnish”). You can’t exactly plan a conversation (sorry to those prone to social anxiety) but I thought I could at least get the people in the same place.
Let’s play a quick drinking game. For every overused word or phrase of 2020, take a shot.
Needless to say, things didn’t go according to plan during these very unprecedented times (take a shot). This week, it was time to pivot. (shot – now you’re getting it!). Okay, okay I’m going to save us some time here so I can get to the point: toilet paper, panic buying, you’re on mute, bubble, six feet, uncertain times.
In Vino Veritas
Catching up with old friends is tricky during the best of times. Practical aspects like geography, work and life constraints, and scheduling difficulties aside, I am one of those people who need to be constantly reminded to reach out to my friends. I also need to regularly remind myself that the people I care about most in the world care about me and what I have to say, too. And that brings me back to the drink.
Whether you consume alcohol or not, there is something to be said for the physical presence of a table and a container of liquid. In the face of even the mildest social anxiety, the drink – for the sake of this example let’s say it’s alcohol – serves a special purpose. Much like the dreaded phrase “we need to talk”, there is something unsettling about the idea of planning an evening entirely around a “conversation” – no matter your relationship or what kind of conversation. Imagine one of your friends texting you the words “let’s get together to have a conversation”. What the hell is going on there? Instead, picture this: your friend sends you a text message that reads “let’s get together for a drink!” Better, yes? Even if – and stay with me here – the exact phrase used doesn’t include the drink but instead a “let’s catch up”, the follow-up almost invariably contains planning for an additional activity. Like going to the bar for a drink. Coming over for a drink. Catching up over a drink. Sharing a pitcher of [insert fruity thing here]. For some reason, placing something in between you and a real conversation – even as a placeholder – checks all the boxes of acceptable social conduct.
The other role of alcohol in a social setting is, predictably, its use as a social lubricant. You all know the friend (me) who gets impossibly chatty after one or two drinks. Alcohol lowers inhibitions and, for me, those inhibitions are usually the conversational walls I carry around with me. The part of my brain that fears ridicule, judgment, and disinterest just goes on holiday and I magically (rather, chemically) become a slightly truer, louder, more honest version of myself. Or in other words, as I drunkenly slurred at my Mother-in-Law after over-sharing, “in vino veritas! In wine there is truth!” I know we’re about one shot away from problem drinking here, but that’s the weird dance that many of us do around alcohol. I am in no way qualified to explain it, but this phenomenon was exactly what I was counting on when I planned to invite an old friend for a drink.
Everything in Between
So what happened this week when I tried, and ultimately failed, to invite an old friend for a proper drink?
When we began social distancing, people rushed to do two things: buy an incredible amount of toilet paper and schedule virtual gatherings with everyone in their lives. Both, I think, were done out of panic. One manifestation of this panic will be the punchline of every 2020 joke from now until the end of time, but the other makes a chilling amount of sense. I know that there are people in my life that I have put off connecting with. There are people I want to meet, there are people I want to get to know better, and there are relationships that I want to nurture. There are relationships that I need to nurture. There are people in my life who will always make me happy and I have somehow, over the years, taken them for granted.
This pandemic has stripped me of all my excuses. It has removed the proverbial table that we put between us and the people in our lives. Now there is no hiding what we really want. There is no drink to distract us from what we really came for. When we log on, we’re doing it entirely for one reason: to connect. In my experience, over the dozens of calls I’ve had over the past year, the drink is almost always secondary. Perhaps we still cling to it as a reminder of what life used to look like (or because it tastes good), but we all know that the slightly pixelated face on the screen is what truly makes us happy.
I still miss sharing a drink with friends. I enjoy the taste of alcohol, I enjoy being social and uninhibited, and I ultimately enjoy the surprising revelations and emotional moments that come from my happiness and of a love that is temporarily stripped of its insecurity. I have had many Zoom Drinks: long, short, boozy, and sober. I gained clarity, learned new things, drank a lot, and reconnected with people I love. Connecting with other people is hard on the best of days, but maybe that’s why it’s so important. Maybe that’s why the happiness is so real.
So cheers, my friends. Until we really meet again.
Sources
48 Little Things You Can Do to Make Yourself Happier Now
Elyse Gorman | @notesonbliss | ( https://elysesantilli.com/ ) on Thought Catalog
How to Be Happy 