“You’re not drinking? I’m sorry WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

The trials and tribulations of the expat lifestyle…. So your first year or two in Cayman is nonstop party, the week days are simply a means to pay for the weekend, which starts earlier and earlier every week. Thursday is now Friday part 1, Wednesday is hump day and just has to be celebrated. There is an “excuse” to party every night. Tequila and Rum and beer, oh my! We all react differently to this new fast paced party lifestyle. Some of us succumb and live solely for the fake relationships, the fun, the parties, life becomes a haze of alcohol, sex, beach, par-tay… the extent of this rock and roll lifestyle is simply not possible where we have come from. Living it up in London, Vancouver, Toronto etc is just not the same. Even Russell Brand would be proud! Some of us rebel, try to be more ”sophisticated” who are we kidding… but at least have more meaningful friendships and only wake up on the Beach once a year rather than once a month. Would we applaud this behavior at home? It’s just one looooong vacation filled with weekly summer romances and letting loose like we 18 all over again.  Then we either leave or stay… three years in and the rock n roll lifestyle is paying its toll, so what are you to do? Your liver is pickled, you are out of shape, and wondering what is so great about island life.  

You take up a new sport or hobby to keep yourself busy, you try to adjust (long overdue), or you simply take a time out like I did. The party, shockingly, went on without me! How dare they! I really thought the Island would come to a grinding halt when I ceased to be the life and soul of the fun Friday frolics. Truly, my friends get so loaded I could tell them I was there and they might just believe me. I am on the wagon so to speak… As of the 4^th of April, 4 alcoholic beverages have passed my lips…. Yes 4. (If you can actually count Vodka and Soda) No I am not missing a zero! It’s actually not that hard at all. Apparently I am still funny sober, my friends, not so much. Watching your mates get loaded, putting the beer goggles on and listening to some of the worst pick up lines ever is comedy.  The repeating the same story over and over thing & telling you they love you, gets very OLD very quickly.  Do I feel better? For sure.  I actually have two full days of my weekend, rather than battling a hangover and losing Saturday morning / early afternoon….  Not to mention my more productive Monday mornings have replaced the Monday morning blues, I’m fitter, healthier and have some cash in my pocket for once! Best yet, one or two bevies and I get my buzz on – cheap date – this is going to save me a lot of money in the long run!!!

The funny thing is other people’s reaction. You think your mates would be supportive? Erm NO. They think I am CRAZY. I get that no one wants to be the drunken one in front of the sober one, but even the bar staff are in on it. I find myself having to make up excuses to alleviate the pressure: I am on antibiotics? I am an Alcoholic? I am allergic to alcohol, I have liver poisoning (possible true) “go –on…just one, it won’t kill you!”, “I’ll bring you a shot- it’s on the house, and free alcohol doesn’t count”.  I get you are not going to get a huge bill from ‘Soda girl’, but come on, abusing me into drinking…. Really?  It’s just temporary. I’m still me aren’t I? Maybe I should just become a hermit, like the hunch back of Notre Dame, diseased by a truly horrific affliction of detox, who shouldn’t be seen out at night.

The good part is, my memory is not affected – I can account for each of your MDIs (miscellaneous drinking injuries), I know who you went home with and I can remember every stupid thing you said! Hahahahahahha! Payback is a bitch. Bad part… Yup designated driver, I get to drop my mates home, which is done with love, because let’s face it; far too many of us think we are OK to drive when we really aren’t.

One last thing to think about: What’s the difference between a Dog and  Fox? About 5 martinis… So lots of Dogs out there right now.