A Toast to Alcohol

Alcohol is humanity’s most contradictory invention. It’s the catalyst for friendships, the confidant of heartbreaks, and the scapegoat for bad decisions.

Somewhere between a shot of tequila and a glass of Malbec, it finds a way to mirror life itself—messy, unpredictable, and oddly poetic.

College Nights and Rotten Fruits

Alcohol’s real charm lies in its ability to blur lines—between strangers and friends, solitude and celebration, caution and recklessness.

Think back to those college nights when the line between who you were and who you thought you could be was as thin as the rim of your shot glass. Those strangers you clinked glasses with? They became your friends—or at least acquaintances you'd text occasionally for a “catch-up drink.”

Maybe even your spouse walked into your life through the haze of dim bar lights and cheap whiskey.

It all starts innocent enough. A few beers to loosen up. A glass of wine to celebrate. But soon, alcohol becomes more than just a drink—it’s the punctuation to your stories, the soundtrack to your evenings, the muse for your late-night reflections. Until it’s not.

The Bitter Romance of Blame

We love alcohol the way women hate men for being men: completely, unconditionally, until they don’t. Alcohol, much like that charming yet flawed lover, has its phases. At first, it’s the life of the party.

Then it’s the partner you regret waking up next to. Eventually, it’s the ex you blame for everything from your damaged liver to your cringeworthy karaoke videos.

But here’s the truth we often avoid: alcohol doesn’t make us who we aren’t. It amplifies who we already are. Confidence? Humor? Charm? If you didn’t have them to begin with, no amount of gin is going to make you the life of the party. Alcohol might make you louder, but it doesn’t make you better.

That’s why the finger-pointing always feels hollow. Blaming alcohol for our mistakes is like blaming a car for taking us to the wrong destination—we were the ones behind the wheel.

A Love Letter to the Element of Joy

Still, for all its flaws, alcohol deserves a toast. Today, I’m raising my glass to you, my bittersweet elixir. You’ve seen me at my best—laughing with friends, meeting new people, becoming the funnier, more relaxed version of myself. And yes, you’ve seen me at my worst, too.

But isn’t that the point? You don’t have to be perfect to matter.

Alcohol, you come in so many forms that it’s impossible not to fall for your variety. You’re not like women, who (lovely as they are) come in a limited spectrum—Blonde, Brunette, Asian, Latina, Ebony and we're done.

You’re infinite. You’re the deep crimson of an Argentinian Malbec, the smoky charm of a Spanish Tempranillo, the bold and surprising zest of a Ukrainian Saperavi. Even French wines, as romantic as their origins, pale in comparison to the global palette you offer.

And let’s not even get started on the rest of your forms: the hoppy complexity of craft beer, the crisp bite of gin, the smooth fire of aged whiskey. You’re a world tour without the jet lag, a passport to experiences we didn’t know we needed.

Not for Confidence, but for Connection

I don’t drink to find confidence. That’s a dangerous myth people tell themselves before spiraling into regret. Alcohol isn’t a medicine for self-doubt; it’s a magnifier. It doesn’t create confidence—it reveals it. If you’re using alcohol to mask insecurity, it’ll betray you faster than cheap wine on an empty stomach.

But if you’re drinking to celebrate, to connect, to relax? That’s where alcohol shines. It’s a companion, not a crutch. It’s not the answer, but it’s also not the problem.

"The Future of Our Relationship"

As capitalism and globalization tighten their grip, the magic of personal connection—once so enriched by alcohol—feels endangered. Maybe robots will take over bars, and we’ll end up screaming at a bartender programmed to suggest “signature cocktails” based on our spending habits.

Or maybe humanity will wise up and remember that while alcohol can be a villain, it’s also a storyteller, a mediator, and a bridge.

For now, I’ll keep drinking to life’s imperfect beauty. To the strangers who become friends, the heartbreaks that become anecdotes, and the nights we don’t entirely remember but wouldn’t trade for anything.

Here’s to you, alcohol. You’re far from perfect, but so are we.

Cheers 🍻