There are many things that you could be forgiven for believing were designed specifically for University life.
Discount vouchers for takeaways are one such thing; so are microwavable ready-meals, and Wikipedia. Sobriety, however, is not.
It is as far from being suited to University life as it is possible to get. It is like Richard Dawkins at a Christian Union gathering, Karl Marx at a meeting of the Bullingdon Club or a Snapback at a Castle formal; it sticks out not like a sore thumb, but like a throbbing wart. It is so out of place it is not an exaggeration to say that it contradicts the fundamental laws of nature or, if not nature, certainly of Klute.
It was thus with great trepidation that I embarked, at midnight on Wednesday 1st October 2014, upon a month of total abstinence from alcohol, in aid of MacMillan Cancer Support’s ‘Go Sober for October’ campaign. Now, looking back upon what can only be described as the longest thirty-one days of my entire life, I am in a position to share the few mildly interesting things I have learnt on my “sober journey”.
You spend just as much money
First and foremost, though sobriety may save you money in clubs, it does not for pre-drinks. On the first weekend of October, my housemate and I visited Tesco’s to purchase drinks for a friend’s twenty-first birthday house party, only for me to discover as we walked home that he had spent less on four cans of cider than I had on four cans of energy drink. It was at this point that I realised that it was going to be a very long month.
Energy drink is actually pretty disgusting
My first realisation is closely connected to my second, which is that energy drink without Jagermeister is even more disgusting than energy drink with Jagermeister. Unlike with Jagerbombs, simply drinking more energy drink, on its own, does not eventually make everything ok. If anything, it just gets worse.
Energy drinks really don’t do what they say on the can
In my innocent early-October state of optimism, I was naïve enough to believe that energy drinks, if nothing else, would at least give you one thing: energy. In my wise late-October state of reflection, I can conclusively tell you this: They don’t.
In Klute, civilisation ceases to exist
I knew well before this month that Klute was hardly a place of class and sophistication. Even in hazy states of extreme inebriation, you are aware of what Klute is like. But it is only when you witness this extraordinary beacon of sweat and lust that you realise the power of the place, and what it does to people. It is as if all incumbents have mutually agreed to leave their human decency upon Elvet Bridge until 2am, and they revert to an extreme state of nature, where not just anything goes, but where things you never before imagined possible become commonplace. Like mayflies with only twenty-four hours to find a mating partner, otherwise perfectly rational, indeed very intelligent, human beings descend into visceral creatures of impulse, and your faith in humanity is shaken to its very core. There are some things even a quaddie can’t erase from your mind.
The world needs more non-alcoholic drinks
Despite having worked on bars since the week I turned eighteen, it was only this month that I truly realised how inadequate the world’s supply of non-alcoholic drinks really is. I was reduced to drinking simply tonic and lime which – aside from suffering immensely from its lack of gin – was tolerable, but certainly no substitute for its alcoholic counterpart. Without question, every political party should include in its election manifesto next year a commitment to investment in non-alcoholic beverages.
Hangover free mornings are pretty damn wonderful
Despite the rather pessimistic tone I have employed up to now, ‘Sober October’ did afford me thirty-one gloriously hang-over free days, and for that I am immensely grateful. I have only been mildly more productive than I would have been even if I had been drinking normally, but to wake up without a pounding headache and the feeling of alcohol swirling within your stomach, to the point at which you are certain you’re about to meet it all over again, is a delightfully pleasant way to begin the day.
No more scary Facebook notifications
The scariest part of a night out comes the following morning – or sometimes afternoon – when you eventually muster the energy to look at your phone, and you go to Facebook to find that somebody has tagged you in about two-and-half thousand photos. The thing is, you can’t remember anybody taking any photos, and this is when the dread sets in. But when you’re sober, Facebook notifications lose their fear factor.
You remember all the gossip from the night before
There is nothing more frustrating the morning after a night out than having a vague recollection that something hilarious or outrageous happened, but not being able to really remember it. But sobriety affords you the joy of being able to remember it and, even more enjoyably, recount it to those for whom it has been forgotten. Telling people what they did under the influence the night before can be surprisingly gratifying (for you at least).
Gin and Tonic is, possibly, man’s greatest invention
To say that I took Gin and Tonic for granted before this month would be unfair, for it is one of, if not my very favourite, thing in life. But occasionally having something taken away from you, though it may hurt at first, does actually make you appreciate it more once you get it back. It sounds clichéd, but it’s true. I’ll never under-appreciate a Gin and Tonic again.
There are some pretty good people out there
This is slightly maudlin, and very clichéd, but I surprised myself by how much I was touched by the generosity of certain people, who donated to MacMillan in aid of my challenge. I was genuinely moved to receive an email, in the middle of an otherwise pretty dreary day, which said that I’d just received a donation of £25 from the mother of one of my friend’s, who I have only ever met once and never really spoken to, along with a message of support and encouragement. That alone made this whole bizarre, and sometimes depressing, experience worth it, and though I will, at 12.01am on Saturday 1st November, begin what can only be described as making up for lost time, I am glad I’ve done what I have. It’s been surprisingly challenging, immensely frustrating and sometimes downright dismal, but I certainly don’t regret doing it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a little thirsty.
If you would like to sponsor Matthew for his month of sobriety, click here.