Being a non-drinker in 2009 is an interesting thing. I don’t drink because I don’t like the way it tastes, and because it makes me sick. These reasons, I’ve found, aren’t good enough. People look at me like I just sprung a second head that looks like Bud Cort. “You have to acquire the taste!” they bellow incredulously.

Lame sauce.

Why would I want to spend hours trying to get myself to like something that I don’t? I could just pick up something, like a root beer float, that is tasty at this exact second. It’s baffling to me. What’s even more baffling is that people won’t get off my case about it. They ask if my parents were alcoholics (no), if I am in AA (no), if I have problems losing control (no). Is it that weird to just not like it?

I will say, however, that from time to time I feel as if I am missing out on the “fun”. Well, maybe not fun, but the screaming, guffawing, stumbling, slurring nights that everyone else has. And I don’t want to complain, but if you have ever been the only sober one at a party, you know the annoyance level.

It was even worse when I lived in England, and drinking is simply a part of life. You don’t go out to dinner with friends, you meet them at a pub. And if you aren’t completed wrecked at the end of an evening, you’re a pussy. There you don’t dance, talk to a girl, or stir from your seat until you are good and sauced. I think its nuts.

Looking at alcohol culture from the outside is really bizarre. Not being able to see the appeal, it just seems confusing and sad. Look, I’m not going to knock anyone for having a good time. Have at it, but leave us sober folks alone. It’s enough work just talking to your maximum volume braying self when you are toasted.