I wrote this essay shortly after I quit drinking. It represents what I was really thinking when asked “Do you mind if we drink?” by people who were counting on me to answer “no.” It’s a little more on edge than usual, but I didn’t tone it down because I wanted to preserve the exasperation that question can provoke.

Into the life of every new non-drinker comes a conversation like this one. You’ve been invited to a dinner party by a close friend who knows of your struggles with alcohol. After you’ve agreed to go, your friend says, “We were planning to serve a little wine, but we don’t have to. Do you mind other people drinking wine? Just say the word, and we won’t serve any.”

Yeah, right. Just say the word. Just don that iron-grey Carrie Nation wig, raise your axe high above your head and cry out, at the top of your lungs, “Lips that touch Liquor shall never touch Mine!” An exaggeration? Then why, in all my years of hanging around former drunks, have I never met anyone who replied, “Yeah, I’d really rather you didn’t drink in front of me,” even when they did mind, a lot. Even early in sobriety when they were hanging by a thread.

They say, “No, of course I don’t mind” because the alternative is horrible. If you say “Yes, I mind,” you become the pinchy-lipped fun-hating pleasure police. If you say “Yes, I mind,” you advertise yourself as weak, selfish or both. If you say “Yes, I mind,” you encourage people to discuss your most painful problems behind your back—how else is the poor host to explain the never-before-in-the-history-of-parties anomaly of a dinner without wine? And you accept that those people will discuss your problems with other people who aren’t even going to the dinner party. You accept being known as an alcoholic whose sobriety is so shaky that alcohol is banned in your presence. Sounds great, right?

I believe that well-intentioned, fair-minded, compassionate people ask “Do you mind if we drink?” They just don’t think about the question very hard—and why should they? The alcohol industry and AA have convinced us all that alcohol abuse is the abuser’s problem, not anybody else’s. They think asking “Do you mind?” is going w-a-y beyond social responsibility and at least halfway to sainthood.

Pause for a moment, party-giver. Imagine that a friend who is just off heroin is coming to your soiree. Most of the other guests use heroin safely and happily, just once in a while for fun. (That is, by the way, how three-fourths of heroin users consume the drug.[1]) You don’t want to infringe on their pleasures, but you want to support your friend in early recovery. What do you do? 

Do you tell your friend that you’re planning to break out a little black tar at the dinner table, right after the cheese course, and ask if they mind? No, of course not. You assume they mind. You either forgo smoking heroin just this once or you slip out later and smoke discreetly—in the garage, maybe. What you don’t do, assuming you actually like your friend, is force them to choose between two uncomfortable options, both of which could jeopardize their sobriety. You recognize that your scrupulousness in asking “Do you mind?” is more about your comfort than theirs—and, if you decide yours is more important, then at least you haven’t forced them to endorse your choice.

Here’s my suggestion. First, if you’re going to ask “Do you mind?” don’t ask after your newly sober friend has already agreed to come to your party. Tell them alcohol will be served; then ask if they want to come. In other words, give them a dignified out.

Second, consider not asking at all. If you really want to help, I have a suggestion. I don’t know whether it works, because it’s way too radical ever to have been tried in real life, but I believe it would help. Have one party, just one, where you don’t serve any alcohol. Make it a brunch or an activity-based gathering. Don’t ask your newly-sober friend for permission (or thanks); just do it. Tell guests alcohol won’t be served but don’t explain why. Or lie and say you’re doing it on a bet. But what you really want to do is question the assumption that alcohol is essential to social life. Even if you personally would more likely question the necessity of gravity, you can try questioning the necessity of alcohol as a thought experiment. It is just a piece of propaganda, you know. There are much better party drugs than alcohol.

Then throw a great party. No ostentatious swigging of Martinelli’s or O’Doul’s, no teary-eyed declarations of support, just fun.

If you pull it off without making a big deal of not drinking, you will demonstrate an almost unfathomable level of support. You will show your friend that there’s fun to be had without alcohol and that you’re not going to make them carry the heavy axe of the teetotaling pleasure-killer. They’ll feel safe and grateful, which will make it more likely that they’ll be okay with your serving alcohol in the future—not just say they’re okay but actually be okay because now they know that you’re okay with not drinking, rather than standing on the other side of a deep social and cultural chasm glowering balefully at them for ruining your fun.

It’s win-win, and it’s one party, for fuck’s sake. If you can’t get through one party without alcohol, imagine how your friend feels.

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[1] Carl Hart, “People Are Dying Because of Ignorance, not Because of Opioids,” Scientific American November 2017.