Yeah, it’s true that I wrote drinking was a way of life in Japan. And that I didn’t drink anymore than your average dude (or chick). I still think this is true.
But a bender on April 1 and the ensuing fight with my significant other after barely making it home without being hauled off by the cops had me making a promise to both her and myself.
That was a promise not to drink. It wasn’t really an open-ended promise, either. No more drinking. Full stop.
And so, here I am, around 100 days later, still on the wagon.
Going out with friends has been kind of rough, but nowhere near impossible. I usually am able to get by with the non-alcohol stuff, which has actually grown on me. But as we venture deeper into the scorching heat of a setsuden summer, I’m finding myself more and more tempted to have a beer with the boys.
Beer gardens beckon me. Yakatabune lights seem to spell my name in neon. And ice-cold tall boys pull my attention from the ocha in conbini freezers.
This is gonna be tough. I doubt I’ll make it through without having something.
I wish I could figure out a way to find balance.