Oct. 9, 2024 – My first year of college. Frat party. I was standing against a wall, sipping tap water from a solo cup and talking to a girl standing next to me. We talked back and forth for 20 minutes, yelling over the party music. My friends were all high out of their minds, lounging on the couch and staring at the strobing lights on the ceiling. She asked me what I was drinking, and I tipped my cup to show her the clear liquid. “Water, I don’t drink.” She smiled at me, “Me neither!” I felt relief flood my body. I found somebody else like me.
My friend had told me earlier that week I would probably have to wait a couple years because few people figured out what I did so young. She took a sip and continued, “Yeah, somebody asked me if I was an alcoholic before! Like, no offense to those people, but I would never do that to myself, they must be so stupid. Like, just stop! How hard can it be?” I froze as she kept on talking. At some point, I excused myself and made a beeline to the bathroom. Somebody left a half-full White Claw in there. I stared at it. I was four months sober.
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