I don’t drink. It’s basically because I’m Mormon. But I don’t mind when others drink. Guys often see me as better looking when they do. But sometimes when I’m out where imbibing might happen, I just don’t feel like explaining an atypical religion to someone who is three sheets to the wind. So I’ve made it a personal rule that I won’t talk about my faith with anyone who is drinking. Instead, I fly under the “Oh, you’re Mormon” radar.
When there’s good food, a rockin’ band, or the need to brainstorm some new “so a man walks into a bar” jokes, I’ll hit the scene at the local tavern. But a bar is a bar, and most people are there to drink. And the visible fact that I’m not drinking usually strikes up the question why. So rather than explain the reason as being “I’m Mormon,” because some people just can’t leave it at that, I’ve just decided to lie. I’m tired of answering stupid questions about what really qualifies as sex and hearing people’s ignorant comments about how they know everything about the church because they watch Big Love.
So to explain my soberness and avoid such pointless conversations, I’ll use one of the following excuses:
1) “I’m the Designated Driver.” Legitimate and usually passes, and often true.
2) “I’ve already had a few drinks.” Although not as effective as being a DD, many people respect others alcohol limits. If I use this one, I have to arrive at the bar later. Doesn’t look legit if it’s 7:00 p.m.
3) “I’m pregnant.” I don’t recommend using this one because it can lead to another series of question, assumptions, and subsequent lies.
And if those don’t work, I’ll try to blend in. I learned this last weekend when one guy told me that when he is not drinking that night he’ll often get a Red Bull and soda water. He kindly ordered me one, and I noticed it looked exactly like the Vodka and Red Bull he was drinking, except for a lime. I asked the bartender to put a lime in mine, and voila! I was drinking a “Vodka and Red Bull.” I just have to drink it slowly so nobody will ask if he can get me a refill.
But by the end of the night, if I choose that strategy, I’m absolutely wired—talking 100-words a minute and tapping my foot incessantly that it starts to cramp. But I’m laughing and having a good time with my new friends—and making sure they get home. We’ll talk about what Mormons call sex the next day.
