The sun just set on January 2, 2025. I closed my laptop for the day. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve committed to Dry January and already allowed myself a mulligan for the New Year’s Day holiday to have a glass of wine at lunch—and dinner.
Today is the day I truly begin my search for temporary sobriety. Normally, after work, I’d pour myself a glass of wine and relax. Then I’d pour another one. And another. I’d tell myself it’s harmless. But it’s insidious. If I look back to 2024, I drank nearly every day—whether it was one glass, a cocktail, or three or five. It’s my favorite hobby and, quite frankly, I’m good at it.
In March of 2024, Fox5 San Diego reported that 21 percent of San Diegans claim to binge drink or heavy drink in 2021. That’s higher than the national average of 17 percent. And that’s only what’s voluntarily reported. According to the CDC, binge drinking is four or more drinks for women, or five or more drinks for men during an occasion, while heavy drinking is eight or more drinks for women, or 15 or more drinks for men during a week. A few cheeky glasses are cute, though, right? Not bingeing. Not a problem. Not addiction. Right?
After pacing around my apartment, I poured myself a glass of wine—but not necessarily to drink. I started at it for 20 minutes. I held it. I smelled it. I swirled it. I did everything that I could besides sip. It’s the ritual of drinking that I love. The theatre of it all. But it’s a ritual that quickly became a crutch for anxiety—which begat more anxiety. Alcohol was never a problem for me until it became one.
Alcohol had been affecting my health, finances, work, and the romantic relationship I wasn’t even in. That’s why I’ve made the choice to cut it out of my routine before it gets any worse. The goal is 30 days for a solid reset, but the future is uncertain—after all, it takes about 90 days to really break a habit.
Today, I’m staring at the wine I’ve poured, a skin-contact white wine from Georgia that I bought and only drank half of on NYE. I let the glass sit next to me, untouched, as I eat Thai food. It’s like flirting across the room in a crowded bar. Its presence is constant.
I didn’t think my day would end with a standoff because it went so well. After a successful morning grabbing coffee and answering emails, by midday I was overwhelmed with work and I felt the dizzying, free-fall need for something to calm my senses. I slipped on my Reeboks and went for a walk. It didn’t work. I came home and opened the fridge to pull out my water pitcher when I saw the half-full bottle. I had pangs of desire. Phantom sips slapped my palate. Would it be so bad? Maybe a half glass? No. One would turn to two. Work would slip into tomorrow.
I needed a plan.
I decided to prepare myself with substitutions. I chose work and non-alcoholic placebos. I pitched more articles in two days than I have in the past six months and went to Collins & Coupe to get a pack of Ghia Spritzes, a delightfully bitter, amaro-like, fizzy alternative to alcohol in a cute, well-packaged can.
While at the El Cajon Boulevard cocktail haven, I chatted with the salesperson. She mentioned she doesn’t drink, and we discussed the state of the NA community in San Diego. She dropped names and places that I didn’t know—I was sheepish and excited about this relatively untapped community. She let me know about Grace Mestecky—a former non-alcoholic bar owner in Denver and craft bartender by trade—who moonlights (literally) at the cacao café Maya Moon with her weekend NA cocktail bar pop-up, Moon Flower.
I sped over to Adams Avenue, walked into the plant-laden Maya Moon, a place teeming with holistic sincerity, and asked for Mestecky. Full of vivacity and curls, she was eager to chat about her own sober curiosity and show off her skills in making a mocktail, abiding by the same tenets of cocktail-making: body, balance, and flavor. She makes me “The Core of the Earth,” a textural mocktail made of matcha and golden beets that are sous-vide in verjus blanc. It’s delicious. It’s complex. And it takes a while to drink, just like a cocktail.
This concoction won her the title of 2024’s National Monin Cup Award. The Monin Cup is a global low-ABV and no-ABV mocktail competition sponsored by the company that makes those syrups that pump flavor into your coffee. Mestecky was even flown out to France for the finals where she lost out to a low-ABV competitor but still came in fourth.
With all this care going into her program, Mestecky is still confused why people are basically still drinking sodas as the only NA option—and why bars aren’t making curated alternatives. “People are still so skeptical about [mocktails] as a concept. Like, ‘Why don’t you just drink soda water?’ ‘Why don’t you just drink, like, Shirley Temples?’ When there’s so many other beautiful options.”
But when there’s not those artful options, that’s when the temptation arises, even for Mestecky. “But then I’ll visit bars, and I’ll look and see nothing [NA] on their menu, right? That makes me—as a person who is very sober-curious and flip flops between times of drinking and times of not drinking—want to have alcohol.” She adds, “San Diego is an incredible craft cocktail scene, and I very rarely see a non-alcoholic menu that matches the level of quality of care.”
Perhaps that’s the problem. It seems you can only either be a child with a Shirley Temple or be an adult with a big ol’ martini. To split the difference, the placebo effect may be the right approach for me. Back in my living room, I dart my eyes over to the glass of wine. I’m not interested. I take the glass to the sink and dump it out. I pull out the bottle in the fridge and do the same. I crack open a Ghia soda and settle in for the night.
Day One is down with some distractions and resources in my back pocket but I’ve got 29 to go. Wish me luck.
This is the first in a four-part series. Check back next week for updates on SDM staff writer Danielle Allaire’s month-long quest.
