A night on the town

I am late writing this newsletter to you because my weekend was a bit of a bender. Benders are in the eye of the beholder, but I define it as a multi-day period of drinking and debauchery usually done outside the home. I usually mark my benders based on the amount of recovery my body needs and tend to see my benders as multiple hungover days after. Friday night was a late one in Bushwick, techno at one club and reggaeton at another. After regaining my electrolytes on Saturday, I went to Manhattan for an especially fun birthday party.

On Sunday, I intended to go to a New York favorite — Mister Sunday, a weekly summer darty at Bushwick techno staple Nowadays. After spending a calm morning on the Upper West Side with friends, I decided to punt on the darty and walked eight miles throughout the day. I intended on keeping a calm night with my friend Gabby, but some of my favorite dudes hit us up and thankfully cleared my fridge from its PBRs. We stayed cozy and I did not drink much, but the electricity of our conversation felt like the party was still going, especially since the dudes were closing out a bender of their own.

Not all of my weekends here are as party-packed as this past one, but many of them are. I love it. These nights bring gratitude for living in the greatest city in the world. Making new friends, strengthening relationships, and consuming the joys of youth bring an invincibility I relish. I spend at least one and at most three nights of the week out partying at establishments. Sometimes they fall on weeknights. These are separate from getting a cozy drink with friends or with Meera.

When I graduated college and moved to Manchester, New Hampshire, I worried that I peaked in college. My social experiences in high school were not at the frequency I craved, and my time at Boston University brought lots of great memories. In New Hampshire, my relationship with drinking became much more subdued. The clubs were abysmal, so I did the majority of my consumption in three places: my home, the bar where I did weekly trivia, and the legendary dive my coworkers and I frequented after our shifts. I got a lot of joy from becoming a beer snob, but I envied my friends partying in big cities. I knew that when I would move to New York, I would say yes to just about anything.

I realized recently that I, thankfully, did not peak at school. Upon moving here, I traversed the city with all types of friends in search of perfect nights. I have had plenty of them. I have had plenty of perfect days, too, but this entry is about what happens after the sun sets. I release my inhibitions à la Natasha Bedingfield in Unwritten, but always keep myself safe. Throwing up is rare, and I am aware enough to make my way home. Despite my highs, I must return to reality. The morning after can be brutal. Hangovers have paralyzed me. Not getting enough sleep has stunted me. Nights can be hazy, and I surprise myself with new details upon my morning debrief.

This is the most drinking I have done in my life, and I don’t really know how I feel about it. On the one hand, I stay out of danger and have loads of fun. My work and relationships are not sacrificed. I eat a meal beforehand and am mindful of my water consumption. On the other hand, alcoholism is much more prevalent than society cares to admit. I do not drink every day. I rarely drink in the daytime. I see no reason to do a shot unless someone heavily inquires. I function; however, alcoholism does not have to be someone’s deadbeat dad lying in a pool of booze on the couch after a fit of rage. Lots of my peers in the city seem to have similar relationships to me with drinking, but I have that feeling of huh, I am doing a lot when chronicling my weekend. If alcoholism skips a generation, it’s my turn to face the consequences.

I keep thinking of this heavy-drinking period as just that, a period. One day, I’ll wake up and not exercise my right to party. I am someone who listens to my body in most regards, knowing when I want to eat, exercise, and go crazy. When my body tells me I am done, I almost always answer the call. Hoping that someday I will change, though, feels futile. A solution is not present. Well, of course, the solution is to drink less. That feels much harder when the nights I have are fun. It’s not like I hate cozy, sober nights. I don’t. There are plenty of sober activities I enjoy, but the promise of silliness wins out often. I can sleep when I’m dead or worse — bored.

An epiphany this period has brought: nothing is cooler than being sober. I used to think of sobriety as something people arrive to after rock bottoms, and the sober adults I interacted with still have the personality of alcoholics. The alcoholic personality is deeply insecure and filled with colloquial phrases instead of true vulnerability. But the sober people I have met here or have been watching on TikTok sing a different tune, one of restraint and simple joys. I envy their strength despite of a world where drinking is littered everywhere.

To check in with myself, I think what am I drinking for? I am not sad, and I do not fear a plethora of ways to be vulnerable. But maybe I have something to prove. Maybe I continually need to validate myself as a cool, exciting person with a colorful life. When I am having fun, I want to have the most fun possible. I will stay out as long as I have fun, and sometimes that means going home in the early hours. Whether accompanied by substances or not, I say yes as many times as possible before I feel myself wanting to say no.

Writing on benders reminds me of a strange day during my second year in New Hampshire. I had an amazing therapist that helped me through some heaviness. I would walk into a session and cry from start to finish. I was hysterical. When the hour was over, I felt insane. Oftentimes, I would go on an odyssey. My most notable one was immediately driving an hour away to Dover, NH because we reported a lot there and I had never been. I sat with a coffee before taking a windy way back home. Along the way, I stopped by a driving range and then, of course, an axe-throwing place. I got home exhausted. I felt like I was on a different kind of bender, just seeking highs and getting emotional when small things did not fall into place (ex: taking the wrong highway exit). I needed to have this physical release to ground myself through confusing emotions that had me questioning reality.

The trickiness of drinking is that I find myself to be a reliable narrator of my needs. I hope I am not ignoring bodily messages that I need to slow down. I know when I need to stop by a driving range in Epping, NH and hit golf balls until the basket runs out. I know when I need to escape a smoky bar and walk home with a burger in tow. I trust myself when it counts, and I am hoping the trust continues to be verified.

This newsletter entry serves as both musings for you to muse upon as well as a self-reflection on my silliness state of affairs. I hope your vices are somewhat controlled and you feel like your relationship with darkness is stable enough. I hope I know what I am doing. I was put on this planet to have a good time, and I hope I do not reminisce on this time and see a sadness I do not currently perceive. Upon writing this, I think I’m just happy to be in this city and lick my plate clean. Tonight, I need to go to the gym and get my nails done. Next week’s entry will come from Puerto Rico, and I’m excited to see what postulations I conceive in a foreign-ish land.

Hi Sydney. What do I need to do to find love? I’m in a lot of casual situations where I can just have fun, but I don't see anything long term. I want to find someone wholesome with similar interests. I think I should stop looking cuz that's how it found me last time. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not allowing myself to be vulnerable.

— WYA?

Hi love. Great question. You already know my answer because you answered it yourself: stop looking, and be open. Some people may disagree, but I believe deep, real love comes when you’re building confidence in yourself. Stimulate your mind with physical and intellectual pursuits, and be proud of taking care of yourself. Look inward. Why are you searching for love? What are you looking for in a relationship? Are these things only fulfilled by a partner, or can you practice these versions of love with yourself and the special people in your life? Casual things are great character builders, but you’ve found yourself in a pattern you want to break free of. Where are you finding these ladies, and how are you setting the tone for interactions with them? Are these connections primarily sexual? Are you going on real dates intended for emotional connection, or are you connecting in more biological ways? If you don’t think you’re being vulnerable, you’re probably not being vulnerable. Be more authentic and genuine in your romantic interactions, and be curious about who you’re spending time with. If these girls aren’t people you want to listen to for hours, your time is better used elsewhere. Prioritize yourself and friends first, and be much choosier on the apps. Readers, the man I am answering is kind and beautiful. I think he should raise his standards to the ten that he should know himself to be!

Want advice from someone as unqualified but possibly more confident than you? Send in a question for Olympic Coaching.