D. None of the Above: From Shirley Temples to designated driver, a lifetime without alcohol

By Daniel Dunaief

My initials suited me well before I was old enough to care.

You see, I don’t drink, so the idea of a DD, or designated driver, works for me.

Over the years, not drinking alcohol has triggered an even wider range of responses from adults than discussing my food allergies, which, in themselves, typically start unusual conversations. It seems odd to discuss painful digestive responses to consuming food with people who are about to eat.

Anyway, alcohol is supposed to be some kind of rite of passage, a bonding experience, a chance to celebrate and let loose, and something of a national past time.

I don’t mind when other people drink, but I’ve never been all that tempted to throw down a few beers or to end a tough day with a stiff drink.

When I don’t order a drink, I get a range of questions. “Are you in recovery?” “Are you taking medicine?” “Are you very religious?” “Are you sure you’re human?”

Alcohol is as much of a ritual in the country when adults celebrate as sugary treats are when our children attend another birthday party.

Athletes douse each other with champagne, beer, and other beverages when their teams win rounds of a playoff or championships. People toast each other and the start of a new year with adult beverages.

It’d be funny to see a baseball team retreat to the clubhouse after dog piling at the pitcher’s mound and eat a tray of cookies and milk (which I also can’t drink and, no, I don’t feel like describing what happens if I do). Can you imagine them sitting back with a tray of their favorite vegetables, a towel around their necks and a satisfied smile on their faces?

When I was younger, I held cups of alcohol and laughed with a group that became progressively louder. I would search for water or root beer, which was and still is my favorite soda.

I was tempted to order a scotch and soda, but hold the scotch or, perhaps, a rum and coke without the rum.

The early teens were my drinking sweet spot, literally. I could go through three or four Shirley Temples without seeming to develop too much of a sugar high. No doubt the milk and cookies, the ice cream and the chocolate sprinkles helped me build up a sugar tolerance.

I received my first bottle of wine from a friend in college, who was sharing it with me out of genuine appreciation and was, undoubtedly, following in his parents’ footsteps in offering me an adult gift.

Over the years, I have accumulated a collection of wines that have likely increased in value. At the end of coaching a long, hot baseball, softball or basketball season, grateful parents acknowledged the hours I put into running practices or preparing lineups for games for the team with a bottle of wine.

I did try drinking more than a few sips of alcohol a few times. Once, my wife took me out for my birthday, where I had about a cup of wine. I wasn’t drunk, but I was surprisingly tired and was much more ready for bed than for celebrating.

When my children reached their early teens, we ordered three Shirley Temples for the table.

Recently, I attended a bring your own booze holiday party. We brought some alcoholic drinks and a pecan pie.

We considered purchasing a large bottle of water for me, but figured there’d be a pitcher of water somewhere.

Walking from room to room, I didn’t find water and didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable searching for it or trying to accommodate my request. When I returned home, I was happy to fill my reusable water bottle.

Professionally, not drinking alcohol is not quite as limiting as not playing golf. Back in the days when I covered investment banking, foregoing golf outings meant making fewer connections and gathering less information.

In those days, I was never invited to a batting cage to practice hitting baseballs, which I would have readily accepted.

These days, when neighbors offer to share a few cocktails on their porches, I smile and nod, without making any declarations. It’s harder to argue that I’m not drinking because I’m the designated driver when they live a few hundred feet away. Maybe I’ll bring my own water and will tell them my DD religion doesn’t allow alcohol.