Where Did Everyone’s Drunken Whimsy Go?

Welcome back to Saturday Night Social.

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Last month, I was gorging myself silly on some buffet-style hot pot with friends old and new, and the vibes couldn’t have been more immaculate. The conversation flowed, and the meats and vegetables abounded. By the end of the meal, I was so full, sweaty, and overstimulated that I unbuttoned my jeans. But this wasn’t a sign that the night was over—rather, it was a sign that we needed to bring these vibes out for a drink. So I did the entirely stupid thing of putting myself out there.

“Does… anyone want to go for a drink?”

It was 8 p.m. on a Thursday night in Long Island City—ergo, an entirely appropriate, if not a legally mandated hour for young city dwellers to socialize over an ice-cold beer. Or two. Or three. 

“Sure!” one of my new friends piped up. “Let me see what’s open right now.” 

Alas…she thought I wanted bubble tea.

A whimsical beverage, to be sure, but not the kind of whimsy I was after. I wanted the kind that sends you spiraling into long-forgotten rabbit holes, the kind where you send yourself voice notes about absolutely nothing, the kind that has you liking anyone and everyone’s Instagram story with reckless abandon.

Honestly, I’m not sure exactly how this tragic pattern befell my generation (the older side of Gen Z), but it seems like no one ever wants a good, old drink anymore. A few days after the bubble tea mishap, I was catching up with some college friends over fried chicken—which surely, I thought, would be incomplete without some ice-cold beer. 

Dear reader, please hold my hand as I reveal what they said. 

“I just don’t really like drinking,” one of my friends said. (I call bullshit. I’ve seen her, on at least one occasion, chase Advil with a three-week-old water bottle full of vodka from the floor of her dorm room.) “It makes me feel sick, feverish, and I just go out of commission the entire next day,” she continued.

I don’t know when one beer started turning her into an ailing Victorian child. 

But others agreed, saying they needed to be 100% the next day, and that they didn’t want to feel buzzed on the train back. I mean… what? There are few experiences as magical as playlisting your way through a cosmic buzz on public transportation, listening to the perfect song, looking at the city you love, and—oh, god—with a belly full of greasy, crisp poultry.

I know I could have ordered one anyway—and I’m not normally one to cave to peer pressure—but they’d already killed my hypothetical buzz. I had my fried chicken with a Fanta. 

For years now, I have noticed more and more of my friends—especially as we approach our late 20s and early 30s—do the responsible thing of going drier, if not completely dry. Meanwhile, I’ve gone tropical. Hard day at work? Some fizzy, bubbly beer. An elaborate recipe hour? Some inspo juice wine. If I’m really feeling spoiled and in need of a naughty little night out at the bar? Martini, filthy. 

But what happened to going all-in on a bottle, rather than getting some measly, à la carte glasses of wine? Or sneaking cans of seltzer into a bad movie, just to have to inconveniently giggle your way out of your seats to pee every five minutes? Or, I don’t know, cracking open a cold one just because it’s a sunny day and it’s nice to ebb away the nightmares of living in a hellish timeline? When did we all forget that getting a couple of drinks on a Thursday night makes your weekend feel one day longer? Isn’t it a little fun to spend your Wednesday desperately trying to stop yourself from succumbing to a very hazy hangover? 

I’d like to make it explicitly clear here that I am not an alcoholic, I do not drink every day, and that everyone is their own island when it comes to these things. You’re 100% allowed to do whatever you want, as am I. But also… why the fuck do women have so much worse of an allotted-units-per-week guideline than men, per CDC guidelines? Unfair. 

A Gallup poll in 2023 verified my recent, unfortunate experiences, which found millennials and Gen Z’ites are drinking less than prior generations. (Boomers are crazy, y’all.) This has prompted various think pieces, asking what young people are doing instead, most of which terrifyingly conclude that they are exercising. As an economic insights report by the Bank of America put it, younger generations are moving from “barstools to barbells.” *Shudders*

Part of this pattern can definitely be attributed to the affordability crisis, and I’m pretty sure the administration wouldn’t greenlight a glass of wine as your “something else” in its recommended $3 meal. What’s more is I doubt prices will get better anytime soon…

But also, I find that more of my peers are choosing to optimize the living daylights out of their life, if not for a semblance of control, but for the matter that we’re all trapped in this hype-conomy of needing to do everything with purpose. And, conversely, getting drunk has almost zero purpose—which is exactly why I love it. 

I believe there’s still time to rescue our nihilistic whimsy. After all, it is Saturday night. So go out, drink a little (if you want!)… or a lot. I will, too. The revolution starts with us…

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