I Still Think About Having “Just One” Drink

It isn’t as easy as it sounds

It looks good but carries a load of regret — AI generated image made with ChatGPT

Maybe when I’m old and don’t give a shit anymore, I’ll break down and have just one Sailor Jerry & Coke. That would be nice.

Just one.

I can’t seem to have just one, and it pisses me off.

Why can’t I have just one?

Because I know better, I’ve tried.

I wasn’t the alcoholic who lost her job. I wasn’t the alcoholic who rolled over and started drinking vodka when the alarm went off. I wasn’t the alcoholic who ended up homeless. And I wasn’t the alcoholic who upset or offended her family and friends.

But when I’ve tried to have just one in recent years, it’s proved disastrous.

The last time I binged, I didn’t even go with the just one premise; I drank thinking I could keep myself under control. I’d have a few drinks over dinner with friends, and the night would be fun, carefree, and enjoyable.

That night ended with me alone in a hot tub sans most of my clothes, smoking a half pack of cigarettes (I haven’t smoked in decades), and waking up puking violently in a bathroom being stared at by hundreds of sets of false eyelashes. True story.

So much for keeping myself under control.

The last time I planned not to drink at all, I was visiting my best friend from junior high. I hadn’t spent time with her in years, and I was invited for dinner and a sleepover. I noticed a shelf with some cool skull-shaped bottles and asked what they were. Big mistake. It was some fancy bourbon that looked and smelled amazing. Then her husband showed me the new whiskey smoker kit she’d just bought him for his birthday.

What? You add real smoke to flavor the bourbon?

Okay, okay, I wasn’t going to drink, but I must try that.

I’ll have just one.

In typical fashion, one turned into two, two turned into three or four over a lovely homemade lasagna dinner, then I just drained most of the bottle. As fast as he smoked and mixed them, I emptied them. The novelty of slowly smoking the Old Fashioned was thrown out the window.

I woke the next day with a screaming headache and nausea that ruined my entire day.

That binge was one month after my sister unexpectedly died from cirrhosis.

Clearly, I didn’t get the memo.

So what keeps me from having just one?

Two things:

1. I know the consequences and,
2. I know the consequences

Drinking for me has been a lifelong struggle. What started as sips here and there turned to beers with young friends to help my shitty teenage self-esteem, turned to a normal habit and ritual, turned to binging to the point of being sick.

And for Robin, my sister, it turned her into a corpse.

You’d think that would be enough for me, and most days, it is. But sometimes, when I’m on vacation, walking by the liquor aisle, heading into the weekend, out with friends, enjoying a social event, or having a bad day, I have that momentary lapse of reason that makes my brain think having just one would be okay.

The other oddball thought that keeps popping into my mind is that I’m getting older: what happens when I hit those golden years? Don’t I deserve to have just one drink while sitting with all the other silver hairs on the cruise ship? Or enjoy a refreshing mimosa at brunch after mall walking? What about a beer with shuffleboard or a cocktail after chair yoga? Sigh.

I do deserve it; I just can’t handle it.

I’ve heard people say “just stop” or “just have one.” I promise you, if it were that easy, alcoholism or alcohol use disorder (whatever label you prefer) wouldn’t be an epidemic. We’d all have a few drinks and go about our merry lives as if puking from excess wasn’t a regular occurrence.

No one chooses to be an addict.

I’ve tried so many times to have just one over the decades that it’s comical. “Why is it so hard?” you ask. Because, for me, the first sip is the most dangerous. It’s the one that tastes the best, the sweetest, and in some cases, the most intoxicating. It’s the first drop hitting the tongue and warming the back of the throat that gets me. The slight burning sensation of alcohol that makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay. I can do this. I can slowly sip this drink and nothing bad will happen. I’m part of the crowd again. I’m cool. People are accepting me because I’m one of them. I’m back to “adulting” in a sophisticated way that doesn’t tell anyone “I have a problem.”

Until the first one runs out.

Okay, maybe just one more.

And that, my friends, is how addiction draws us back in.

With just one.

[embed]My Sister’s Little Secret: She Drank Herself to Death How humans are better than we think at hiding secretsmedium.com

2026 Kristen Crisp — Not Even Wine With Dinner

Kristen Crisp is the founder of Not Even Wine With Dinner. A community/mission for those looking for peer support with sobriety, self-esteem, mental health, aging, and all the things that come with being human.

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