I’ve been met with bewilderment when I mention that I don’t drink. People have asked if I’m living like a hermit, or how I manage to raise my three kids without the aid of alcohol, as if parenting without booze is akin to trying to breathe underwater. The skeptical glances I get can be disheartening, but what truly gets to me is the feeling of exclusion that comes with my choice.
Let me lay it out: I don’t drink. While I have indulged in the past—during high school and a bit in my twenties—it was never really my thing. Sure, there are moments when the chaos of parenting makes me think, “A drink would be nice right now,” but I’ve chosen a different path.
My decision stems from a couple of significant reasons. First and foremost is my faith; I practice the teachings of my religion, which discourages drinking. I embraced this lifestyle in my mid-twenties, and now, as a 36-year-old parent, it’s just part of who I am. However, I actually stopped drinking before my religious journey began. My father struggled with addiction to alcohol and painkillers, and he passed away when I was 19. Watching him succumb to substance abuse cast a long shadow over any enjoyment I might have found in drinking. The impact of his choices still lingers in my mind, making it hard to associate alcohol with anything positive.
It’s perplexing to me why some people feel there’s no valid reason to abstain from drinking. I don’t get it, and I probably never will. When I politely decline a drink or a suggestion to “spice up” my soda, it isn’t about judging your choices. It’s not a personal affront. It certainly shouldn’t lead to my family and me being sidelined at social gatherings. We can still have a great time!
I promise we can still connect, have fun, and share laughs—sober. I’m just a dad with a job, a mortgage, and a quirky sense of humor. I genuinely enjoy good conversations, and I bet we have plenty in common once we move past the fact that I’m often the designated sober one.
Need a ride home? I’m your person. I’ll enjoy your jokes, whether you’re sober or tipsy, as long as they’re funny. And if you happen to be a rambunctious drinker, that’s okay too—I just might sit a little further away.
At a recent conference, I encountered the same old scenario: drinks flowing by mid-afternoon. I must have said “no thanks” to a million offers, each met with a million skeptical looks. But once everyone realized I wasn’t a party pooper, we ended up having a blast. I wanted to shout, “Look, I’m just like you!”
It’s disappointing that I’ve lost friendships over my choice not to drink. It’s unnecessary and honestly sad. If you have a parent friend who doesn’t drink, remember that it’s a personal choice. It doesn’t make them odd or boring. They aren’t waiting for you to convince them to take a sip. They simply don’t drink, and that’s perfectly fine.
So, invite them out! Be their friend. Don’t make a fuss about their choice—just accept it and keep moving forward. They have their reasons, and those reasons are valid. Once you understand that, you can enjoy each other’s company without the pressure of alcohol.
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Summary
Choosing not to drink as a parent can lead to misunderstandings and exclusion, but it doesn’t have to. Embracing friendships without alcohol is possible, and it allows for genuine connections. Personal experiences shape our choices, and respecting those decisions can lead to stronger bonds among friends and family.
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