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Writer's pictureamyflondon

The slippery slope of socially acceptable binge drinking

Updated: Jun 13



Being a student, you have the most free time ever in your adult life until you retire. Make the most of it. Have fun, you're young. The transition to the world of full-time employment means disposable income. Work hard, play hard is the motto of the day. You reach the decade of coupling, so it's all hen / stag dos, parties and mini breaks. Then there's summers of festivals. Go hard or go home. I stay out all weekend. I'll sort myself out by the time I'm 30.


I am 30. My health isn't bad. I'm fine on four hours sleep. I still go to the gym, sometimes.


35 then. Hair of the dog morphs into a three day bender, which in my experience, happens to be when you hit the physical limit: sweating, shakes, and puking your stomach lining. If you binge drink regularly, you don't have the luxury of always being in bed when this greets you. Never Google 'Can I die from a hangover?' when in this condition. Technically, you can.


All this whilst trying to carry on as normal, answering emails and ignore the existential crisis playing out in your head. Jeez, it's only Wednesday. Is that why they call it hump day? Reach the top so you can slide into the weekend. Must be why Thursday is the new Friday until bottomless brunches come along.


Now there's a global pandemic and the universal response is to get smashed. I tell my friend I feel guilty for how much I've been drinking. I was so hungover I turned my camera off for a meeting blaming poor WiFi connection and then overcompensated by working extra hours. She laughs and says everyone does it. Everyone. That's ok then. The new normal. So it isn't just me that's a raving pisshead?


Social distancing lifts and everyone is so happy to see each other, they get smashed again. We get called upon to help the hospitality industry get back on its feet. Back in the office and I've knocked midweek drinking on the head. But this is bookended by weekend bacchanalia and I find it very hard to get a good night's sleep. Demons thought conquered years ago begin to surface. To paraphrase Frida Kahlo, turns out you can't drown those in booze. They learn how to swim.


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