101 days and a sober wedding.

L: Pre-Day 1, R: 101 days.

I have survived my first sober wedding. At 101 days. What a treat!

It wasn’t nearly as difficult as I expected it to be either. Pretty sweet. Even, when on arriving at the bar, I discovered the only alcohol-free options were all of the sugary soft drinks (coke, lemonade or fanta), tonic water or Becks Bleurgh. (Disappointing because I had contacted the venue months ago to find out what AF options were available and after being told I was not able to bring anything into the venue, was asked what I would prefer them to order in. So I kind of expected SOMETHING, you know?!)

I was considering finding a local supermarket to sneak in something more suitable when I realised that this was exactly what I used to do when the bar closed and we would trawl cities looking for somewhere open later or selling booze. I decided instead to get over myself and stay hydrated. Not a bad option when Hubs has a stinking cold and I’m going back to school tomorrow so will literally be riddled with germs within 24 hours.

After the ceremony and the photos, we entered the venue for our arrival drinks. The Prosecco Prick made an unwelcome appearance and told me that one glass wouldn’t hurt and after all, we were celebrating and it would be rude not to raise a toast. I went to walk past the table as Hubs picked up a glass. Then I realised I was leaving FREE PROSECCO BEHIND. I doubled back. Picked a glass up. For Hubs. Obviously. We reached a guest bottleneck. A sip wouldn’t hurt. Hubs was in front of me. He wouldn’t see. Just to check it was good Prosecco. You know. Quality control. Right. Looking at the glass as bubbles rose up. Pushing through the bottle neck. Getting outside. Putting the fucking glass down in front of Hubs and practically running to the bar for a delicious lime and bastard soda. £2 for a half. Yey.

However well you think you are doing, there will always be moments where your mind tests your resolve. I physically separated myself from the glass I was holding, carried out a displacement activity, and moved on with the afternoon. And yeah, I felt pretty fucking good about that.

So, what else do I feel good about after yesterday?

Well, I remember everything.

I remember laughing all the way to Towcester with friends in the car. I remember the bride’s beaming smile as she walked down the aisle. I remember the readings, the vows, the laughter. I remember every course of the delicious meal we had. I remember laughing, chatting, rewriting Ed Sheeran songs to be about cheese (I’m in love with the taste of Brie). I remember the speeches. I remember the cutting of the cake. I remember spending quality and present time with family and friends. I remember spending a grand total of £16 all night and a £5 of that was on a pint for Hubs (although 2 Becks Bleurgh to try and manipulate my mind into believing I was drinking a pint was £7. Fucking travesty.).

I remember dancing. I remember singing all of the words to “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” to Hubs and meaning every single word. I remember feeling the unbridled joy, gratitude and love I felt with him at that moment. I remember how drunk he was and his brilliant attempts at smoochy dancing that involved me ensuring that he remained standing. I remember not worrying about how we were getting home or the rush for taxis at the end of the night.

I remember waking up with a slightly tired but crystal clear mind this morning. I remember waking up basking in the glow of joy remaining from the day before and not being riddled with anxiety. I remember being able to eat a delicious hotel breakfast, unlike Hubs. I remember how hilarious he was when we got back to the hotel last night and I regale our friends with that hilarity. I remember the hilarious drive home where we serenaded a VERY hungover Hubs VERY loudly with Blur’s Song 2 (WOO HOO!), laughing and singing all the way home. I remember not snapping at anybody at any point yesterday, or today.

What a glorious experience that is. Knowing that nobody is talking about what an arsehole I was the night before. Being able to eat breakfast without feeling sick. Hell, being able to drive home at a reasonable hour without being sick. Being able to drop all of my passengers off and meet a friend in town for coffee before heading home for an afternoon of puppy snuggles and mocking Hubs.

I wasn’t anxious. Even though I turned up in the same outfit as another smoking hot woman, what a giggle that was! I took one solitary selfie of Hubs and I. Not a hundred blurred photos to try and piece together the night before the morning after. In fact, my phone battery was still alive this morning after no charge (it usually needs charging 8,451 times a day) so I didn’t even use my phone as an excuse to avoid social interaction.

And only one person suggested that one glass of Prosecco wouldn’t hurt, “what, not even for the toast?” I smiled, ignored the question, heard Hubs being hilariously diplomatic with a not very well hidden sigh of exasperation tinging his voice. Nobody else even noticed that I wasn’t drinking, to the point where my Mother-in-law asked us how we were getting home! 

Maybe it would have been a different story if I didn’t know people at the wedding. Maybe it would have been easier if the venue had a better selection of Alcohol Free drinks. Maybe my belief in my own brilliance is increasing and I am learning that I don’t need to be drunk to have fun.

Either way… I made it past 100 days without alcohol. And I made it through my first wedding without alcohol. What an achievement that is!

In preparation for going back to work tomorrow after almost seven weeks off, I’m going to get myself organised and spend an evening relaxing with Hubs, dog and cats. And then for the beginning of my next challenge… The start of the academic year, alcohol free and ready for anything!