What are you really craving?

Last Saturday night, in what felt like a post-pandemic miracle, I found myself sitting across from my husband at a table for two in a gorgeous converted Chicago firehouse restaurant. We had managed to escape to one of our favorite cities for the weekend to celebrate our wedding anniversary - the first time we can recall being away from our kids since the start of the pandemic in 2020.

Needless to say, this was a special occasion. And as such, I was excited to order some sort of fun, fancy mocktail instead of my usual club soda with lime. I rested my elbows on the starched white tablecloth and flipped the menu over to look at the drinks list. My eyes quickly scanned the “Cocktail” section. No alcohol-free options. Lurking at the very bottom of the page, at the foot of the beer list, was a lonely NA. But this was no burger joint, so beer held no appeal. I knew it would be a long shot, but I glanced over to the right side of the menu, where an extensive wine list revealed zero zero-proof options. Sigh.

“Maybe I could have a glass of wine…” I said to myself.

I’m sorry, what? What the heck?! Is this actually the wine witch emerging from over four years of hibernation in my subconscious mind?

“But then I’d have to tell my people that I drank,” I spoke back.

“Who says you’d have to do that?” She instantly replied. “This is YOUR life. You don’t have to share any information you don’t want to. You could just have one glass. This is, after all, a special occasion. And it’s not your fault they don’t have any alcohol-free options!”

A-ha! The wine witch’s manipulative skills have grown rusty since she receded to the farthest corner of my brain.

“There are always options, lady,” I clapped back. “Go back to your cranial hidey-hole and leave me to enjoy my evening.”

Now, because I am four and a half years into my sober journey, this entire exchange took place over the course of a few seconds. Yet it was still jarring. A craving for wine, after all this time? After all the work I have done? As happy as I was to be out for a lovely steak dinner with my husband, I began to feel defeated and disappointed in myself.

The waiter arrived and asked us if we would like to order any drinks. I decided to stay brave.

“Would the bartender be able to make me a mocktail? Something without alcohol?” I asked.

“Of course,” our waiter replied. “I know he makes a delicious virgin mojito.”

“Perfect!” I said. My husband ordered a gin and tonic and we went back to perusing the extensive dinner menu. I still felt unsettled by my craving, but proud of myself for standing up for my sobriety and ordering a mocktail.

A few minutes later, my alcohol-free mojito arrived in all its green, mint-muddled glory. I clinked glasses with my husband as we toasted 14 years of marriage (it would be another day before our kids - who actually did the correct math - would tell us that we’ve been married for 13 years - oops) and took my first sip. My tastebuds sprang to life. This mock-jito was delicious! Not only did I not miss the alcohol, I didn’t want it.

So I wasn’t craving alcohol after all! What was I craving, then?

I wanted to drink something special on a special night. A drink that was more complex, more celebratory, more interesting, more sophisticated, more - frankly - fun than a club soda with lime. I had been thrown by the lack of mocktails on the menu (Come on, Chicago! Get with the times!) and being off-balance allowed the wine witch and her sidekick, FOMO, to creep in.

The difference between experiencing cravings as a gray area drinker versus as a non-drinker is the WHY.

When I was a gray area drinker on a special date night, I drank alcohol for the buzz. Because I didn’t believe I could have fun without a buzz. The buzz was the key. The buzz was my why.

As a non-drinker on a special date night, I drink a mocktail to compliment my experience, not to complete it. Because I know I don’t need a buzz to have fun. In fact, date nights are more fun without the buzz and the wine witch pestering me to maintain it. When you take away the buzz, what’s left is authentic connection, the chance to experience unbridled joy, and genuine - not substance-reliant - fun.

On Saturday night, I was craving connection, not escape. I drank a mocktail for the joy of it instead of drinking wine for the buzz. And I got what I wanted: a lovely, fun evening of authentic, connected conversation and companionship with my life partner. It’s nights like that - however rare they may be - that make the work of achieving alcohol freedom worthwhile.