Like most people, I eventually turned 21. Unlike most people, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I’ve never liked alcohol. Don’t get me wrong – I relish splitting head aches, massive bar tabs and exploding livers just as much as anyone else. I appreciate real fun.
What I don’t care for is the taste. Seriously, it’s gross. It’s what I imagine pouring toilet bowl cleaner down my throat would taste like. A cute little umbrella and sugar around the rim don’t fool this girl. It still belongs in the toilet.
However, in order to maintain a normal adult social life, I knew I would have to acclimate to alcohol. So on my 21st birthday, perched in a very-grownup booth, I timidly ordered the first drink of my grand new life: a pineapple alcohol-something, generously dressed with sugar. It sounded like a dessert, so I assumed it would be an easy start.
All my fellow partiers were contentedly sipping their drinks when my grunts of disgust commenced.
Back it went to the bar, to reemerge diluted with more pineapple juice.
And so this scenario repeated several times, each resulting in me nearly perishing of disgust. In retrospect, the drink must have been 110% pineapple juice by the end, but my sensitive palette just couldn’t take it.
Well, this was quite a pickle. One can’t leave the scene of their 21st birthday bash without finishing a beverage. As I was not intoxicated at that point, I was thankfully was able to concoct a clever alternative: I would just order a full glass of frothy milk! Genius. My taste buds would be appeased and I would maintain my cool image.
So that’s exactly what I did. I drank a glass of milk at my 21st birthday celebration. To this day, it’s the best drink I’ve ever ordered at a bar. My liver and bones agree.
I suspect there are many others who agree with me about the superior delights of drinking milk while out on the town… primarily 1-yr olds.
Those older than 1 year? Perhaps not so much.
It’s been 8 years since that full glass of white goodness, and I still struggle to down any alcoholic beverage not steeped in sugar. Yet still, concerned family and friends continue to insist I give alcohol another chance.
And another one.
And another one.
“Oh, you just have to give it time! You’ll adapt to it!”
That’s like saying you should give that horrible boyfriend another chance. You might just get used to him!
Am I really that boring sober? Why would I force myself to acclimate to a thing I can’t stand? I can understand the concept when it comes to showering or work (things that I actually might need at some point in my life), but booze? Why bother? I already have enough trouble not slurring my speech or walking straight.