Alcohol can make a person do some pretty daft things. From expressing undying love to someone whose blazing body would not earn your sober piss, to considering bacon fries an acceptable source of nourishment, the drug they call ‘ethanol’ has a lot to answer for.
In that context, then, it’s perhaps unsurprising that, after a decent few beers down the local with friends, I invariably find myself hitching the last bus in to town to finish the night in a club. After all, the prospect of spending money I cannot afford on beverages I do not like, and sharing bar room space with some pretty dodgy-looking characters, is a belter of an idea, isn’t it?
In fairness, I have met some great people during a weekend (or, indeed, weeknight) session in a downtown bar. Behind my social anxiety, I enjoy meeting people and, living as I do in a remote part of the country, the opportunity to make new friends isn’t one to miss.
Wearing my sensible hat, though, I can appreciate the downsides of such behaviour. As if I hadn’t spent enough money in my local, feeling my wallet physically lighten after shots, pizza and taxis are factored in, is a queasy experience. If I could simply walk home after a night with friends, my bank balance would be relatively healthy.
And then there is the subject of the, ahem, ‘characters’ I am mixing with in the nightclubs. They are strangers to me, and therefore do not value my welfare to the extent that my friends and acquaintances do. Sure, they seem friendly enough, but they will have forgotten my existence the following day. Friends for a few hours compared with friends for life.
Here’s an example of what I mean. A few days ago, a random stranger approached me in a bar to ask if I was ‘carrying cocaine’. The answer, of course, was ‘no’. Don’t get me wrong, I am not seeking to cast aspersions upon folk who dabble in recreational drugs; taking cocaine does not make someone a bad person. However, it is not a question I have ever been asked in my local village pub, and is a reminder of the potential dangers of socialising with strangers.
Maybe I am being unnecessarily hard on myself. Maybe I should be applauded for pushing myself out of my comfort zone to meet new people (although having 8 pints already on board may be helping with that). But for my own sake, I need to start exercising more self-restraint. There is nothing wrong with the odd binge, but when I have all I need in my local - friends, drink, music and banter - the argument for continuing into town becomes a difficult one to make.
Comments