social lubricant

Since I'm on a word of wisdom-busting kick, might as well continue.

One great thing about alcohol, for me, is its value as a social lubricant. Sure, it's fun to cook with, a glass of wine with dinner makes it more satisfying, and I finally feel like a grown-up. But the fact that alcohol loosens me up, drops that awkward shyness I have around people I don't know well, and lets me just talk and have fun--that is magic.

I can't count the number of dinner parties I suffered through, having declined any wine as good Mormon girls do. But with that wine glass in hand, that faint rush to my brain that subtly asks, "Who gives a damn?" I can converse, debate, joke, and chill with the rest of them. At the very least, we can talk about the wine and at what point I realized I, or they, had a little too much. Because by then, it's just funny. And even if I recognize how stupid I'm being, I just can't care.

Take last night, for example. Our good friends invited us to go out to a club. We've known this couple for years, and always have fun with them. And they also invited several people from their respective jobs, people I didn't know at all. The group ended up being eight, which caused me a little trepidation. But I heartily sipped two shots of black cherry vodka (liquid candy with a kick), gulped a shot of Canadian whiskey to loosen up. And that was before we left for the club. By the time we got there, I was chatting away with my friends' friends like we'd known each other since high school. I had one more drink, enjoyed the buzz for hours, danced, and had a great time. Didn't get in until 2:30am. And for a woman with a 4-year old, that's something.