SDM staff writer and guest author Danielle Allaire takes over the column this week.
One night, at a bar in South Park, I saw a tall, indie-rock Viking sporting a canvas tote bag and decided that this progressive-leaning, vinyl-collecting man was going to be mine. Within minutes, he introduced himself with a pint in hand. We chatted, and Chris (not his real name) offered to buy me another drink. After some flirting and a few more beers, midnight rolled around, and we left together.
At his house, he put on Michael Jackson, and we danced. Chris poured me another glass of wine. As we edged toward the bed, something shifted in his eyes. Suddenly, all six feet, three inches of him slammed to the floor, his limbs splayed on the hardwood. The booze had won out.
I wanted to put him to bed and “girlfriend” him, but I knew it was time to leave instead. I helped him up, called a car, and tip-toed out. I was embarrassed—for me and for him. I wish I could have gotten to know who he really was before the six pack kicked in. Maybe if we’d gone on a hike instead of drinking at a bar, he could have been the one.
Recently, SDM editor and Unhinged columnist Nicolle Monico wrote that in 2025, daters will be leaning toward dry dates over the typical bar meetups. As a 40-something-year-old, full-time writer seeking a long-term partnership, I enjoy a calming glass of wine on first dates. But after many failed “wet” dates, this trend had me curious about what it’s like to forgo that crutch of social lubrication.
If I’m being honest, alcohol has always been there to get me through life. I grew up in a restaurant family and drinking was ubiquitous. To this day, my mom’s first suggestion when I’m feeling down is that I grab a G&T. Since my 20s, I have relied on alcohol to ease me into potentially awkward social situations. I joke that I’m great on first dates because I’m witty and gregarious, but it’s probably just the Chardonnay talking—and who knows if I’m as charming as I think I am?
Alcohol helps quell my anxiety about so many things: Will he think I’m smart? What if I’m not pretty enough? What if I chose the wrong outfit? Will he notice that I’ve gained 15 pounds since that last profile pic was taken? I’m terrified that I won’t be understood and ultimately rejected— just for being myself. I’ve always squashed these racing thoughts with a glass of something rather than dealing with my own rejection sensitivity, or even being open to the possibility that no one is judging me half as hard as I am judging myself.
To challenge myself, I decided to go on a slew of non-drinking dates: bowling, the beach, coffee, Mexican food sans margaritas. Sometimes I asked if we could keep things dry; other times, I just stuck to water as my date sipped on something boozy. Taking away my liquid security blanket was a shock to the senses. I felt far more self-conscious than when I was drinking. I had to do breathing exercises before every date to calm my nervous system, which would normally be soothed by something stronger.
On the bowling date in El Cajon, the scent of IPAs wafting in the distance, I bonded with a professional ice skater over his recent heartbreak and our shared experiences of being the one left behind. The activity and faux-competitiveness of the date distracted me from the need to drink, but once the conversation kicked in, I felt like I overcompensated by oversharing and getting straight to the deep stuff. Thankfully, he welcomed it, and I felt a weird sense of safety. It was refreshing to talk about relationships and not sex, as alcohol has a way of guiding the conversation in that direction.
On my next date, I shared sushi in Mission Beach with a man who recently divorced his best friend and partner of 20 years, only to pick up a penchant for shibari. Then came enchiladas and a conversation about polyamory with a man who loves Porches. My last sober date was, ironically, at a dive bar with an actual sober guy.
We played our favorite songs on the jukebox and drank ginger beers, bonding over shared music tastes and mental health diagnoses. I’m not sure I would have divulged that sensitive information had I been drinking. My date was honest with me about why he made the decision to become sober. This confession made me want to offer up something about myself to match his vulnerability. It turns out we have a lot more in common than just loving Bikini Kill.
None of these dates ended with anything physical, not even a peck on the cheek. With alcohol, I definitely would have been persuaded to take things further, even on a first date. Staying dry kept me grounded in my boundaries—I wanted to save the physical connection for when I knew there was an emotional one.
None of these dates provided the drama and danger of a lushy meet-cute, but I did feel more comfortable in my own skin the more I did it. Instead of being in my head about what the other person thought about me, I was better equipped to make decisions based on what I thought of them, rather than seeking their approval.
What stood out to me is my own reliance on alcohol to make me feel worthy of love. The fact that I don’t think I’m enough without a little liquid encouragement broke my heart. I drink to have fun and to feel like an elevated version of myself. But why can’t I be that person on my own? It made me reflect on my own relationship with alcohol, which I’ll continue to think about. Did this experiment make me want to go sober? No. But it did make me want to love and trust myself more deeply, without an ABV.
Though none of my dry dates led to a second, I was able to make better judgments on these potential partners and stick to my own values and boundaries, which always seem to disintegrate after a few glasses of natty wine. I felt sure about my decisions (do I send a follow-up text? Do I ghost?). There was no gray area in my gray matter, which can so often be clouded by a drink.
I’ll probably still make some mistakes in dark bars, but adding more dry dates to my journey could be the difference between meeting a guy for now and a guy for forever. At the very least, it’ll make for some good memories… and a healthier liver.
If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.
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