Real Life Giving up booze changed my life
Suzy Beaumont made a surprising realisation about the kind of man she wanted to be with
Stepping into my local pub, I looked around for the handsome stranger I’d been chatting to online. Spotting Dave, then 36, I smiled nervously, and we both headed to the bar to order a drink. It was September 2018, and just a year earlier, I no doubt would have ordered something strong to quell my nerves, but today, nine months into my challenge to go sober for a year, I ordered a peppermint tea instead. I’d always used alcohol to give me confidence, but today, as the conversation between me and Dave flowed, it turned out to be one of the best dates I’d ever had,
Dave sipping tea opposite.
Throughout most of my adult life, I’d loved to drink.
My 20s passed me by in a haze of midweek sessions on the booze, hungover work meetings, Saturdays in the pub and Sundays spent in bed.
I worked as a radio producer for BBC Scotland, and my colleagues and I were all young, carefree and single. Birthdays, leaving dos, promotions and bank holidays were celebrated in the pub. I was always the first person to get the sambuca shots in, and I was always the last to leave.
But what goes up must come down. The morning after a big night out, I’d always find myself consumed by anxiety and fear about conversations I’d had the night before, drunken arguments I’d witnessed, and toiling over things I might have said that I probably shouldn’t.
As I reached my early 30s, drinking didn’t feel as much fun as it used to.
Beer goggles
My hangovers could linger for days, and I found myself putting off important tasks at work just because my head felt hazy from the night before. I’d been single for a while, but I’d become disillusioned with meeting men in bars. Over the years, my beer goggles had talked me into making some terrible choices, and I was bored of waking up to a string of text messages from men who had only seemed interesting after too much alcohol. In December 2016, I decided to quit drinking – not forever, but for four months. I’d recently set up my own business, Change Your World, as a personal development coach, organising events to help people make positive changes in their life. I had a big conference coming up, and I wanted to put everything into my business until then.
Having my last glass of prosecco on New Year’s Eve, I knew not drinking would be a challenge. But waking up with that familiar sore head the next day proved that I felt ready for – and needed – a break.
For the next four months, I threw myself into my work, spending weekends running and kayaking, and meeting friends for coffee.
When I told friends I’d gone sober, they rolled their eyes. I knew what they were thinking: it wouldn’t last, I’d soon give in. But meeting up at the pub for a birthday night out soon after, I held my reserve, ignoring all the pleas from friends. ‘One isn’t going to hurt,’ they teased.
And I’ll admit, there were times when I was tempted, especially when I got caught up in a boring conversation, or found myself listening to the same story over and over again, but I didn’t give in. As the weeks passed by and I socialised more, I found that if the music was good and the conversation was interesting, I could stay out all night drinking water or lemonade and drive home when I’d had enough. After a few months off booze, my head felt clearer, I had more energy, I’d saved money, and I found the conversations
‘I’D TOIL OVER THINGS I SAID’
I was having on nights and days out were more meaningful. I soon realised my relationship with alcohol had changed. My four months of sobriety was over, but I wasn’t desperate to go back to my old ways. After the conference, we headed back to mine for a party and I had a few vodkas, but I wasn’t itching to drink again soon.
Finding the balance
Instead, I maintained a steady balance of drinking when I felt like it and, spurred on by my new-found energy, I became interested in living a sober life.
In January 2018, I decided to commit to not drinking for longer. I’d heard of the ‘One Year No Beer’ challenge, and I decided to go for it, committing to 365 days without alcohol.
Everything in my life was going well. My business was thriving, and after spending seven years single, I finally felt ready to meet someone. I’d always hated online dating. I’d been on the worst dates over the years, enduring hours of conversation with guys who just weren’t right for me, even getting ghosted, so this time I was determined not to waste any time.
Flicking through men’s profiles with pictures of them holding pint glasses, I realised I didn’t want alcohol to play a big role in any future relationship I had. I reactivated my profile and decided to lay my cards on the table, stating the fact that I didn’t drink in my bio.
Soon after, I received a message from Dave. A policeman, Dave, then
36, was all too familiar with the carnage alcohol can cause every weekend, and as we exchanged messages, he told me he wasn’t much of a drinker. Not long after, we met up for our first date, and as we chatted away, I felt so at ease. Even without the buzz of confidence alcohol used to give me, Dave was easy-going and interesting – and after a few dates, I realised there could be a future for us.
‘I DIDN’T WANT TO WASTE TIME’
Constant fun
Although our dates didn’t revolve around alcohol, Dave and I always had fun. We ventured out to restaurants, and to bars after, sometimes staying out until 3am dancing. On other days, we’d drive out into the countryside, walking up hills and visiting new places.
I’d always dreamt of doing a New Year’s Day Loony Dook – a tradition in Scotland that sees people heading into the freezing lakes, lochs and seas on 1 January. Of course, I’d always been too hungover to make it, but in December 2018, after almost 12 months sober, I mentioned the idea to Dave. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said, and on New Year’s Day 2019, Dave and I headed to Loch Ness.
Plunging myself into the icy water, with Dave by my side, it felt like the start of a new beginning. Instead of starting the New Year nursing a hangover, I felt exhilarated and renewed.
Now, Dave and I have been together for almost two years. We live together, spending our days off at the cinema or outdoors. Dave has the odd beer now and then, but he can take it or leave it. I don’t miss drinking. I love being able to drive home after a night out, and I don’t miss those dreadful mornings consumed by hangovers and alcohol-fuelled anxiety. For now, I’m embracing life in sobriety, and I’ve never been happier.