I like to drink. I appreciate refreshing Belgian Whites, light Pinot Noirs and minty cocktails in the heat of summer. I look forward to warming seasonal ales and classic Cabernet Sauvignons in the dead of winter. And every now and again, I truly do crave a decadent stout or a well drink (preferably with tequila.)
I understand that it can be a problem for some (trust me, alcoholism runs in my family) and I know that others don't enjoy the taste of alcohol (I don't understand it, but I accept it) yet I fully approve of my affection for adult beverages.
Because when you escape from your apartment on a working-from-home Friday afternoon to meet a friend outside the city for lunch, drinking a beer alongside it is as thirst-quenching as it is scandalous. Especially when there's more work afterwards.
Because when you bring your out-of-town friend to your favorite eclectic Thai restaurant late on a Thursday evening, ordering a lychee martini feels as sophisticated New Yorker as it does necessary at the end of a tough week.
Because when you're sunbathing by the pool, following a Sunday morning spent on the beach, it can be a fantastic idea to skip one bottle of water for a strongly spiked lemonade. Even if it has you giggling like a child at its end.
There are benefits to wine and beer can be good for you but I'll admit that I don't drink either for my physical health. I enjoy the taste. I enjoy the way one or two makes me feel. I enjoy how they can amplify and compliment a good meal. And I think it's okay that I like to drink. As long as I do so responsibly, and only occasionally have one too many (like this past weekend), it's perfectly appropriate, and fun.