How to Socialize in a Way That Doesn’t Involve Eating Out or Drinking Alcohol (Hint: It’s Not Possible)

Oh, did I mention I gave up eating out for the month, too?

This will be much harder for me than avoiding the drink, which I generally only partake in a couple times a week anyway.  I’ve gotten into the habit of eating out almost every day, though. Bad for Ye Olde Bank Account, which quaking under the weight of student loans, rent, utilities featuring a new-found love of AC (seriously, what is this stuff, and why didn’t I use it for the first 30 years of my life?!), and modest music habit as it is. Who do I think I am, a FULL TIME WORKER?!  I’m acting like I’m the kind of person who receives, you know, like, employment benefits and stuff, a smugly comfortable individual who stays up late into the night counting and MWAHAHAHA!ing over fat stacks of cash (as I imagine people with full time jobs do) … instead of the kind of person who chose to get an English degree followed by a library degree and who currently works about nine hours a week (<–minor exaggeration) at minimum wage (<–minor exaggeration).

Not to mention the encouraging effect eating out has on my muffintop.

SO! No more having people cook for me, dear readers, until Oct. 11. If you see me out at a restaurant, A) that’s creepy, as this is a relatively anonymous blog, the writer’s true identity being known only by a few IRL friends [I think??], and B) please punch me gently in the gut and write me a ticket for violating my own arbitrary rules.

"Lips That Touch Spinach Artichoke Dip Shall Not Touch Ours."

“Lips That Touch Spinach Artichoke Dip or Baskets of Fried Pickles Shall Not Touch Ours.”

In the two days that I’ve managed to stick to my resolution, I’ve had this epiphany: not drinking and not eating out render you useless in all social situations. What are you supposed to do with people if not drink or eat? Our society is completely centered around Booze n’ Fried Appetizers. This is the true foundation of America: not democracy, not freedom of speech, not anything Lofty. Booze n’ Fried Apps. Little did I know that this month long resolution would bring into sharp focus the very core of my national identity as an American!


-Potluck? Eh, but my friends are all lazy and bad cooks. Last time I hosted a potluck nine people showed up with bags of Tostitos, one person brought store-bought hummus that they put in Tupperware and tried to pass off as their own, and I burnt my curry.
-Game night? There’s a small, tight-knit gaming scene in my city and my ex-boyfriend is the king of it, so I avoid those.
-Bike rides? It’s been 95 degrees for the last couple weeks. I’m generally game for a sweat-drenched foray onto the mean streets and glass-littered gutters of Springfield, but is anyone else I know? My friends tend to be un-athletic intellectuals who enjoy air-conditioning and, well, booze.
-Movies? Oh, sure, I’ll just go see WE ARE THE MILLERS for the ninth time [side note: seriously, what is the deal with movies for the last year or so?  Such a bad selection!]

I guess I’ll just lock myself up in my little apartment with a stack of books and a fridge full of healthy, affordable foods until next month. Wait for me, my alcoholic, fatty loves!


“If you don’t meet us for Half Price Wine Night you’ll regret it. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of the month.”
“But — but — I made a resolution!”

Goodbye, social life. We’ll always have Half Price Wine Night.


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