Empty Handed

Isabella Gattamorta

“Wow, you’re so brave” 

I hear it all the time when I tell someone I don’t drink. I’ve never been drunk, not even tipsy. At 13, I took my first sip of beer, which I immediately spat out. I remember hating the way it made my mouth feel, and how horrible it smelled and tasted. 

Growing up, I was always around alcohol. It was never bad or toxic, but my parents were big party people—and with parties, came drinking. My parents spent hours playing loud music and dancing, yelling out the lyrics to songs as if they were twenty-something-year-olds in a frat basement. 

I followed in their footsteps and became a party fiend. I loved the rush of dancing with my friends to classics like Cobra Starship’s “You Make Me Feel…” playing over the speakers. Yet, I never felt the need to have a beer in my hand.

Surrounded by alcohol my whole life caused the desire for a drink to fade away. The urge to get drunk and forget about the world never intrigued me. I can have fun without it.

We’re related to Bacardi, the rum company. Because my dad has worked there since before I was born, we always have rum/Bacardi-owned products scattered around the house. Our chairs are branded with the bat logo, along with our cups, shoes, and umbrellas. I always thought having this family connection was cool and a fun fact to share during icebreakers; but as I got older, it felt more like a burden because of my choice not to drink. 

When I got to college that feeling changed quickly. It was no longer just grown adults drinking, but people my age. The desire to get drunk took over everyone, but it never got to me. I felt like the fakest college student. 

I turned 21 this past year, and the feeling of staying sober felt worse and worse. All my friends get crazy at parties and we go out almost every weekend now. Although I have fun, there’s always a part of me that feels bad for not allowing myself to be a “real” 21-year-old. 

It doesn’t help that people make comments about the choices I make. Everyone always says that they could never do what I do. I know they don’t mean it rudely, but it always comes off that way. I don’t want to tell these strangers my entire life story to explain why I don’t drink, and it’s annoying that I have to. I get called brave, but I know they mean crazy. 

I asked my sister if she’d ever thought about this before. She says she feels the same way. I also brought it up to my cousin who just entered high school and started partying. She says she doesn’t like alcohol at all because of her growing up around it. 

People in high school and college drink because they aren’t supposed to. They love the rush of doing it secretly. At the end of the day, everyone loves to break the rules in some sort of way. 

Alcohol was never a mystery to me. I understand it more than most people probably do. I know how to take care of someone, and I know what not to mix. This is what I was taught growing up. 

In some ways, I thought I was letting my family down. I’ve tried to get into the “party drinking mode” before, but the thought of being drunk around other drunk people made the urge instantly go away. I know I would feel anxious, which defeats the whole purpose of drinking. Still, I wonder, “If my parents were not this way, would I drink?” “If my dad was not related to Bacardi, would I drink?” Those questions will never be answered, but as long as I stay true to myself, I‘ll be okay. 

All I need is good music, good vibes, and a nice cold Sprite in my hand to have a good time.

Edited by Sydney Mahmood & Kate Castello