My drink of choice for the past 13 years has been a seltzer. Throw a lime wedge in there, hold the bitters, but if you wanna splash some fancy, house-made jus in there, go right ahead. As a sophisticated woman of the (pre-pandemic) world, I’d find myself in a bar often enough simply for the reason that that’s where people go to socialize. Bars are easy meeting places with a sort of revolving door—the kind of place that allows you to bail with ease should a Situation arise. They are simply where lots of first dates (used to and will again) take place. And even now, when you can’t (or shouldn’t) be going to bars, “grab a drink,” is still the default framing, whether that means cold cans of something on a porch or drinking from warm and spiked mugs while trying not to shiver in the wintry air.
I’ve lost track of how many dates I’ve been on in a bar, all of them sober. You might wonder why I don’t insist on another venue, but considering how many first dates, especially via app, are simply a drive-by vibe-check, I’ve learned that committing to the duration of a full-on sit-down meal is often not the move. I imagine my matches also feel the same way. You can have a nice friendly chat with someone and if it’s not your vibe, you can go your separate ways after one beverage and that’s that.
Some dating apps like Match, Bumble, OKCupid, and Hinge even have profile features where you can indicate what vices you participate in and to what extent. Nine percent of Hinge users marked “no” next to the drinking icon last year, up from eight percent in 2019. (Along those lines, the percentage of users marking “sometimes” is rising as “yes” declines.)
This doesn’t mean that everyone necessarily registers your preference. In fact, 99% of my matches will suggest meeting up for a drink, completely overlooking the fact that I’ve marked that I don’t. It happens often enough that it feels just like a careless misstep on their part, but I imagine if sobriety was a new thing for me, it might initially feel awkward to respond with, “Hey, actually I’m not drinking these days—mind if we do a coffee instead?” Which is also totally OK and normal! It is normal not to drink certain things! But sometimes people don’t feel so normal about it.
I’ve gotten “I just don’t trust people who don’t drink,” a handful of times. Or “But what do you do with your hands then?” Har-har. There are also variations on, “Oh, uh, you should’ve said something and we could’ve not gone to a bar,” as a single bead of sweat makes its way down my date’s temple.
Declining to imbibe elicits a strong reaction from folks, which can be quite telling. Not a red flag necessarily, but a flag. And, I get it. To have an offer for a drink declined can come off as a bit of a hiccup, especially when alcohol easily smooths the social friction surrounding first dates. It’s like, you could go without lube, but why would you?
If you know yourself well enough to know that you are unable to resist any temptation, maybe steer clear of bars altogether. If you’re on the apps and (safely! responsibly!) going on dates with new people, grabbing a coffee or hot cocoa from an outdoor cafe and going on a winter stroll is cute and very seasonally appropriate. Doing an activity that doesn’t even revolve around beverages is ideal, but as I mentioned, if you want to suss out a date without committing a meal or day to it, choose an unconfined location and activity, like people-watching in the park.
I’ve noticed a handful of Tinder profiles that include a disclaimer saying that they don’t drink (sometimes adding a sentiment like “but don’t mind if you do” to ease the delivery) as a heads-up. That’s a fine way to lay your cards on the table so it’s a non-issue. But if you don’t prefer to lead with your sobriety because you don’t necessarily consider it a defining feature (I don’t, personally), you can take the lead on suggesting a date that doesn’t take place in a bar. Instead of grabbing a drink, you can suggest grabbing a cone (ice cream) or perhaps dispensing with grabbing altogether. (Gummy bears at the dog park?)
Now, if you’re on the other side of the swiping and you’d like to go on a date with someone who doesn’t drink, that’s even lower lift. If you know upfront that they don’t partake, you can just ask them what they prefer. If you agree to meet up at a bar and find your date ordering Shirley Temple after Shirley Temple, the best response is also the easiest: don’t mention it. If things are going well and you’ve both decided to get another round and then you can politely ask, “you want another Shirley Temple?” The smoothest way to handle this dynamic is to make it normal. Because honestly, it’s not weird—or it shouldn’t be. Of course, maybe don’t get totally blotto if your sober date’s going to have to drag your slurry ass out of the bar and into a cab home.
First dates can be really intimidating and nerve-racking—no matter how chill and casual, there’s still a certain air of expectation. I get that I can often alienate dates by not getting on their BAC level. Culturally speaking, I’m at a disadvantage when it comes to the natural bonding that sharing a beer or a glass of wine can cement. But to me, there are as many advantages—getting to know someone over a Virgin Mary or Cosnopolitan can give you a much clearer sense more quickly of who they are and if you’re actually into them as a person. And if you realize that you just can’t hang with someone who’s never down to have a drink, that also narrows the parameters for you. (I dated a vegan for years—I know how you feel.)
Personally, I just happen to be so seasoned at it my effervescent personality requires no inhibition-looseners at this point. But—as I sometimes tell dates to break the ice—I still make plenty of questionable decisions sober.
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By Sable Yong