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This week marks five years since I stopped drinking.
It’s an anniversary I barely think about these days, unless asked outright - which happens remarkably often. But it’s also a timespan I found myself contemplating afresh at a friend’s 50th birthday party recently, as conversation turned to two of every January’s hot topics - dating and drinking.
I won’t go into the gory details, but the general vibe of the conversation was that the apps are a cesspit, a lot of men are horrid, and while being single by choice can be brilliant, flying solo because you haven’t found a partner despite putting yourself out there repeatedly can be a soul-sapping experience.
Now, I met Rich on Tinder, and I encountered plenty of frogs there before he made his entrance. I also stopped drinking in the middle of that time, encountering some horrendous dates without a drop of booze to numb the experience. It’s an approach I can’t recommend highly enough.