Time for me to take this holiday weekend to talk about alcohol — America’s obsession with it, and how everything in this country, from holidays to random Tuesdays, revolves around it. Growing up in Italy, I had a very different experience with alcohol. Sure, I’d occasionally sip red wine as a preteen when our godmother made gnocchi, but it was never the main event. Alcohol was just a small part of meals, a tradition to be enjoyed in moderation. It wasn’t a personality trait. In elementary school, we even went on a field trip to a winery and picked our own grapes in the vineyard!

But the second I landed in the U.S., I was hit with a reality check: Americans love their booze. From “casual” happy hours that stretch until sunrise to Memorial Day weekends where it seems like every other person is already stumbling by midday, alcohol is the glue that binds every occasion — even the non-occasions. And trust me, it’s bizarre.

I remember feeling completely out of place. Where I’m from, you don’t need alcohol to have a good time. It’s not mandatory to get wasted to be fun. But in the U.S., there’s this strange, unspoken rule that if you’re not drinking, you’re not participating. Hell, even if it’s a Tuesday, there’s an assumption that you’ll join in on the after-work drink, and the next thing you know, you’re six drinks deep and wondering where the night went.

At first, I fell into that trap. I participated in the endless rounds of happy hours, letting it drag into all-night benders. But by my late twenties, I started questioning it all. Is this really the way I want to live? I didn’t want to numb myself anymore. I wanted to remember my life, not forget it. I wanted experiences that didn’t come with a pounding headache the next day.

And I’m not just saying this because I’m some outsider looking in. I have a genetic predisposition to alcoholism. That means I know how dangerous it is to use alcohol as a crutch, how quickly it can take over your life. So yeah, while I’m empathetic to the struggles of addiction, I’m also over the idea that every event in America needs to be fueled by alcohol. It’s exhausting.

Eventually, I grew out of that phase. I stopped doing bar crawls, stopped starting my weekends by getting drunk at brunch. And now, if I’m at a gathering and I don’t feel like drinking, I simply say “no.” It’s not a big deal. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. “No” is a complete sentence. You don’t have to justify your choice to skip the drink. You don’t have to apologize for not wanting to participate in a culture that is so incredibly dependent on alcohol.

Honestly, the more I’ve stepped away from it, the more I see just how deeply alcohol is embedded in this society. You can’t escape it. I even gave it up for Lent last year, and it was like I’d entered some weird parallel universe. Everywhere I went, someone was offering me a drink or pushing me to join in on some binge-drinking activity. It made me realize how much alcohol is built into our social fabric. People look at you like you’re crazy when you say no, as if your entire social value is tied to whether you’re holding a drink or not. That’s the culture we live in. And it’s messed up.

Speaking of messed up — let’s talk about the people you meet along the way. I once dated a guy that in a prior post we called “Con,” short for con man (because he was a walking disaster). This guy’s life revolved around drinking. Literally. Every date, every hangout, every hangover. Alcohol wasn’t just an accessory for him, it was the entire personality. It took longer than it should have for me to realize: I didn’t need a partner who used booze to feel something. I didn’t want someone who needed to be drunk to have a good time, or who couldn’t handle themselves without alcohol. That’s not a relationship — that’s a co-dependency. And I wasn’t here for it.

More recently, I found myself in a bizarre entanglement with someone who brought beer from home to a game night. Beer. From home. As if the act of showing up with three cans of beer would somehow elevate the evening. It was like a weird, unspoken assumption that the night wouldn’t be “fun” without it. And that’s when I realized: I need a partner who doesn’t rely on alcohol to have fun. I need someone who can enjoy life without needing to be drunk to feel something.

So yeah, it’s Memorial Day weekend, and as I run to grab my packages in the lobby of my building, I see people stumbling around at noon, shouting and acting like they’re in some bad college frat movie. The same people who will probably do the same thing next weekend. It’s like they’re on some repetitive loop of get drunk, forget, repeat. And honestly, it’s wild. I mean, who needs to live like that? Who wants to live like that?

Now, before you say I’m being hella preachy: Alcohol isn’t inherently bad. In moderation, it’s fine. I still drink. But it’s strange to me that the entire American cultural calendar — everything — revolves around getting drunk. Holidays? Check. Celebrations? Check. Random, meaningless weekends? Check. It’s like we can’t function without it. And the social pressure to drink is so pervasive, it’s almost impossible to escape.

But there’s hope. The rise of mocktails and nonalcoholic drinks is inspiring. I’m not saying everyone should quit drinking — though I’ll never turn down a nonalcoholic beer from Blue Moon or Heineken, and I love a good mocktail. But at least now, we’re seeing a shift. People are waking up to the fact that you don’t have to drink to have a great time. You don’t need to numb yourself to enjoy life.

So, as we enter this Memorial Day weekend, maybe it’s time to rethink what “celebration” really means. Do we need to get wasted to feel alive? Or can we find ways to enjoy life without constantly reaching for another drink?

For me, the growing trend of alcohol-free options is a sign that we’re heading in the right direction. A place where it’s okay to say “no,” where a good time doesn’t require a buzz. And honestly, I’m all for it. Life’s too short to numb it all away.