I Failed at Dry January

“This is a great idea.”  “Lots of people do it.” “It can’t be that hard.”

These are the lies we told ourselves when we committed to “Dry January.” My husband and I believe we have a healthy relationship with alcohol, if that’s even a thing you can have (alcohol is a toxin, and experts suggest there is no amount that’s safe to consume).  Our basis for comparison is the few alcoholics in our close circles – people we love and admire for their hard work at sobriety and who are living, breathing cautionary tales.

My heart goes out to them and others who lay off the sauce in perpetuity. They are welcome to laugh at our feckless attempt to match their resolve. God knows we deserve it.

Our story begins on December 28.

We decide to try Dry January, because everyone on the internet seems to be doing it and they can’t all be wrong. We currently take time off from alcohol most weekdays and acknowledge that the term “time off” implies a certain default position. We want to prove to ourselves we can do this – it’ll be fun!

December 30. A small wrinkle in the plan – we’re going to delay our start until January 9.  It’s the only civilized thing to do since we are traveling to the Rose Bowl and the College Football Playoff National Championship game. We can’t possibly celebrate a potential Michigan victory with a mocktail.

December 29. I read an article about how to succeed at Dry January and immediately start executing the suggestions. I empty the wine rack and move the bottles to the basement. I hide the good scotch. We announce our intentions to friends (our unwitting accountability partners). We have a drink while we still can and congratulate ourselves on this upcoming investment in our health.

December 31. If you’re only going to drink one day a year, this is the day. We do. Also, it’s not even January.

January 1 – January 8. It’s admittedly a Wet January so far. But since we negotiated this ahead of time (with ourselves), it doesn’t count. Our team won the game so don’t we look smart, allowing for this contingency? And we are so motivated to get healthy for the remainder of the month.

January 9. Today was easy-peasy! There’s a spring in my step and I practically exhale self-righteousness. My whole body feels pure and clean, unsullied by even a drop of the hooch.

January 10. Oops. I forgot that I scheduled a girl’s dinner with some business school classmates. We graduated 26 years ago and share a rich history and intellectual interests, but tonight we desperately need to talk about our hot flashes. Over cocktails. Dry half-January will have to wait one more day.

January 11. Well, actually two more days. I was invited to a wine and cheese thingy and cheese without wine is a crime against gastronomy. One last hurrah.

January 12. For real this time.

January 13. It’s Saturday night, and I hang out with friends and sip flavored seltzer like a boss. I’m killing it. Feels great. I don’t even miss it.

January 14-18. I miss it a little.

January 19. So, my husband told me about this great compromise where you don’t drink at home but are allowed a drink if you go to a restaurant. We agree that this comports with the spirit of the law, if not the letter. Speaking of spirits, we go out to dinner and order one cocktail each. Mid-January is officially Damp.

January 20. An alternative way to do Damp January is to only drink on weekends. Today is Saturday. I think it’s obvious where I’m going with this.

January 21-30. The new normal is that we only drink on Friday and Saturday nights. Plus, one beer on Sundays because the Lions are in the playoffs for the first time in 32 years! Given how many of our drinking exceptions are football related, maybe we’d have better luck trying Dry April.

January 31. Upon reflection, I think we failed at Dry January despite the small cost, because for us, the benefits were even smaller. We are healthy people who otherwise make good choices. Tomorrows are never guaranteed. Everything in moderation, etc.

Our experiment wasn’t a total failure; we gained tremendous respect for all those internet people who committed to Dry January but didn’t cheat like we did. Our livers salute them. We do drink less now. It even seems sustainable.

Here’s to Damp 2024. Raise a glass with me.

People clinking glasses with sparkling wine indoors , closeup