Heavy Drinking – We’re Through

So, it’s 5pm, and I’ve just rolled out of bed. Ordinarily, this would wrack me with guilt, but as I’m on holiday, I couldn’t care less. I barely remember any of last night, which if the bits that I do remember are anything to go by, is perhaps a good thing.

I dimly recall making out with a couple of random girls. Neither of them are in my bed this morning, so that’s only a partial success. I think it went poorly with the American girl who I was supposed to be meeting up with – the only part of our interaction I can clearly recall is when she pointed to a Thai dude and said “That’s my ex-boyfriend”, and all I could do was point, laugh, and say “Haha, does he have a tiny dick like most oriental guys”.

Time was once when excessive alcohol was my friend. It gave me the confidence to approach, and having done so, lowered my inhibitions to the point where I could stand in front of my intended prey and be a cocky, charming wanker.

Since cutting most of my body fat off, I seem to have become something a lightweight where alcohol is concerned. Whereas this time last year, I could drink an entire 750ml bottle of my whiskey to myself, and still be relatively coherent by the end of it, I drank two 75ml whiskeys before I left my apartment to venture forth last night, and was wasted from them.

That’s not to say that alcohol doesn’t have its part to play in the evening’s proceedings of course. Indeed, I dare any of you to go out to a club stone cold sober and not find the ridiculous dancing and moronic conversations of drunk people the most banal waste of time ever envisioned. A modicum of indulgence definitely has some claim to a lifting of mood and lubrication of social machinery. It’s simply the quantity that ends up being consumed that is the problem.

Once I reach a certain level of inebriation, I run out of conversation, stagger around, and generally do no justice to the urbane, witty individual into which I have strived so hard to develop myself over recent years. For some reason, the only logic which occurs to me in this condition, is “I am wasted. I must drink more to straighten myself out”, and overwhelmed by such rationalities, I then attempt to empty the bar of all its contents.

There is one positive point to getting slaughtered however – the dehydrating effect of alcohol causes your body to flush all retained water out of your system, meaning that if you have been on a cutting diet as I have been, and not seen much progress for a while, you will experience a “whoosh” effect and appear the leanest that you can possibly be. Check it out.


Last time I went out in the UK, I actually managed to restrain myself to only 7 drinks for the entire evening. Although it made socialising somewhat more difficult, I was able to get up the following day, hit the gym, and generally be the moderately upstanding member of society which I am capable of being if I put my mind to it.

So, as with many things, when I attempt to evaluate the logic of a particular course of action, I will make a list of the pros and cons. Let’s see what we’re dealing with when in terms of getting wasted:

– Possibly, maybe, getting into “caveman god mode”, where I am capable of marauding around a venue and pulling upwards of 5 women in one night
– A certain lucidity the following day before I have fully sobered up, which usually makes me somewhat more creative
– Appearing lean for a short while

– Spending upwards of £200, involving such merriments as “buying a drink for everyone stood at the bar”
– Reducing my level of social interaction to “drivelling halfwit”
– Pulling dubious women, who I wouldn’t normally touch with a barge pole
– Staying up til 9am
– Agitating my CNS due to glutamate rebound, meaning that I then suffer from moderate depression for the following 3 days and have to dose myself with valium just to get to sleep

Sorry heavy drinking, the figures are in – we’re through.


8 thoughts on “Heavy Drinking – We’re Through

  1. You said something in this post that I just noticed about myself recently. I feel depressed while hungover. I go out and have some drinks, and the next day I do not just have a headache but feel emotionally down on myself. Is it because alcohol is a central nervous system depressant? I’ve often read that alcohol can worsen the symptoms of depression.

    I don’t think I’m depressed. I’m doing well at work, get along well with friends and family. I am divorced and without a girlfriend, so I am feeling a little lonely. When I wake up alone and hungover, it makes me kind of mopey. There is only so long I can stand to wallow in self pity, so I am usually up and about later and fine the next day. I just noticed a really strong correlation between hangovers and moodiness.

    I am going to spend more time pushing myself in the gym and dialing in my diet. I am not quite as cut as you are. I have made good gains the past two years in lean muscle mass. I’ve gone from 145lbs to 165lbs without substantial increase in body fat %. Not bad for an older guy doing it the natural way.

    Alcohol is an impediment to bodybuilding about any way you look at it. Not good for cutting because it stops fat burning and not good bulking because it reduces testosterone.

    That having been said, I love partying and want a social life. I just hate the day after. The true test will be when I wake up next to a beautiful woman and we are both hungover…

    • I’ve tried so many things to stave off the deleterious effects of drinking, all sorts of amino acids, vitamins etc – nothing really seems to help. I think if you’re one of those people that are susceptible to the boozy blues, there’s nothing much that can be done other than not getting drunk in the first place.

      My limit seems to be about 4 drinks – any more than that and I’ll be moody for at least a portion of the following day. And after I get up to about 10 drinks, all restraint swiftly defenesrates itself, and next thing I’m up partying til 10am and have consumed over a whole bottle of whiskey to myself. That’s 72 hours of anxiety, depression, and the necessity to use valium to induce sleep right there. I have one hell of a time though 😉

      So basically I’m going to have to relearn to game sober in bars and clubs. It’s for the best in the long run – I’d been using it as a crutch my whole adult life.

      Oh, there is a way to “cheat” and not get fat from alcohol if it’s not too frequent – google “LeanGains” to read the article on it. You basically eat nothing but lean protein all day, as much as you like, and then stick to alcohol with no carbs.

      • There’s just no cure for the hangover. Proper hydration can counter the diuretic effects, but I’ve read the metabolites of alcohol are even more poisonous than alcohol is. That’s the sick feeling. It’s only recently that I’ve noticed the blues.

        I haven’t tried intermittent fasting yet. I’m not strict about meal frequency. I eat 4-5 times per day, and try to limit eating out to a couple of weekday lunches and once on the weekend. I count alcohols as carbohydrates. 🙂

      • Well, I can personally recommend the LeanGains protocol. Although I had a decent muscular base to begin with from working out for some time, I was training ineffectually and eating poorly.

        I’ve become something of a (self-proclaimed!) expert on weights and nutrition in the last 6 months through extensive study, and I’ve dropped my body fat from about 17 to 8%, increasing most of my lifts in the process.

        If you’re interested, give me a shout, and I can put up a short primer as a post.

  2. Pingback: Swole Time « The Lucky Lothario

  3. Ugh, it’s so annoying being the ‘sober’ one when out socially. Although it’s sometimes better than being out with a group of boring non-drinkers – conversation ends up dry as a bag of old balls. Also, no way can I hit the gym if I’ve had too much the night before, a friend of mine heads off for a run the next day no problem but I reckon she must be fucking her kidneys up permanently.

    • I’ve tried on numerous occasions to go out to bars and clubs, and remain sober, or just have one or two drinks. It’s soul-destroying – I’m left stood there, wondering what on earth the absolute shit is that everyone around me is chatting about, having to contend with trying to interact with wasted girls with the attention span of a fish with alzheimers. Don’t get me wrong – I’m usually one of those morons myself when I’m plastered, but it’s just not the same from the other side of the veil of sobriety!

      Plus it was messing my training up – if I went and did a weight session, even two days after a heavy night, it felt like someone was stabbing me in the forehead with a really big, rusty dagger.

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