Nearly three-quarters of Tinder users now state in their profiles that they never (or only occasionally) drink. So is dry dating the new way to find love? Roisin Kelly finds out.
It’s 7.52pm on a Friday night, and I’m on my third, painful round of crazy golf with a man I barely know. Struggling to fill the silence with yet another question about the job in finance he mentioned (which I still don’t understand), I long for the cool, crisp taste of a glass of sauvignon blanc. Sadly, my glass is as dry as the conversation. Not only is this a first date, it’s also my first sober one.
Until now, in my 29½ years on this Earth, I have never, ever had a first (or second, or third) date that didn’t involve alcohol. Don’t be alarmed — I don’t show up trollied, climbing on to tables and singing Come on Eileen. But when the threat of awkward silences and the existential dread of not feeling a spark looms? Glugging a gin-and-slim on the bus or downing a ready-mixed cocktail before I leave the office does the trick.
I’m not alone — according to the Inner Circle dating app, 60 per cent of us feel more relaxed when meeting a stranger if we’re drinking alcohol, and almost 40 per cent find the thought of a sober date nerve-racking. Even in the virtual era of dating apps and Instagram DMs, alcohol remains our crutch for real-life romantic interaction.
So why put myself through something that makes my nervous system go into overdrive? First, this year I want to focus on my fitness goals, so I’m intrigued to see what difference cutting out alcohol will make. Another new year’s promise to myself has been to end a six-month dating hiatus and put more effort into my personal life, so now I’m back on Hinge. My dating life over the past few years has seen a horrendous break-up, some short-lived situationships and lots of disappointment. The common denominator? Alcohol. So I was curious as to whether cutting booze out of the equation could result in finding my perfect match, or at least a better-suited one.
It has been a long-running joke among my friends that I’m guaranteed to fancy the laddiest guy in the room, the party animal type who yells “Pints, pints, pints!” at the football, and whose weekend personality revolves around drinking and being hungover. “We get on so well! We have so much fun! The chemistry!” I’d tell myself on the way home from dates, tipsy on tequila, dopamine and drunken kisses. I’d catch myself smiling over him supporting the same football team as my dad, or swoon over something he’d said about my eyes being blue. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t remember anything we’d spoken about or exactly when we’d started snogging.
So on to the dating apps. When I make my sober return to them, matches aren’t a problem — on most days over the past few weeks I’ve had messages asking me if I fancied meeting for a drink. But how do you explain to a stranger that, yes, you do fancy a drink but you’re not going to have one and, no, you’re not teetotal but you’re also not drinking, so can we do something else (but please don’t think I’m boring)?
Reactions so far have been mixed. From some, radio silence. Others have suggested doing something else but then never follow up with what, or when. One man said it was a shame because I’d seemed like fun in my pictures, while another asked straight-out if I had a drink problem, because his ex had been an alcoholic and he didn’t want to go through that again.
Was requesting a dry date really that out of the ordinary? It shouldn’t be — according to a recent survey by Tinder, 72 per cent of members state that they don’t drink or only drink occasionally on their profiles. Mentions of “sober” in member bios increased 26 per cent from 2020 to 2021, and a further 22 per cent in 2022. Meanwhile, Bumble research finds that 62 per cent of people think they will “form a more genuine connection” on an alcohol-free date.
Catherine Gray, 42, author of The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober, dated without alcohol for seven years after realising she had an addiction. She thinks everyone should give it a go. “I look at it as a shortcut — it saves you from wasting time with people who aren’t right for you,” she says. “When I was drinking I’d get to the fourth or fifth date and find that all the chemistry had been created by alcohol. It was a total waste of time.”
As I have so harshly learnt, it is a total waste of time — men and the haze of alcohol can be a toxic combination of confusion and eventual ghosting. My last such encounter led to an identity crisis, forcing me to accept that, as I near 30, something must change if I want a healthy, adult relationship.
Gray is an excellent case study for where sober dating can lead; she met her partner at a co-working space in 2020 — they now have a baby and are engaged. “Being sober means you cut through all the initial excitement and find out whether you actually fancy the person and whether you have that nice, smooth, relaxed dynamic,” she tells me.
Gray is right. I’ve previously found myself five dates in with someone I think I really like. But remove the buzz of an espresso martini and replace it with a mid-morning trip to the Tate Gallery and suddenly you realise how little you have in common, and that the “chemistry” you felt was just being drunk.
The type of date you go on matters too. For Gray, dating without alcohol pushed her out of her comfort zone, doing everything from long walks to bike rides and paddleboarding. I have to agree — while golf may not have worked out for me, the past few weeks have taught me that hell is sitting across a tiny table from someone, repeatedly explaining to the waiter that no, you don’t want any wine; as is sipping on a flat soda and lime, watching your date knock back the bottle of red he’d presumptuously bought before you announced you’re not drinking. Ditto going to a gig a few weeks ago, where I learnt the hard way that I physically cannot dance without alcohol. But grabbing an americano while you take a walk around Kensington Gardens, or an evening of Diet Cokes at a comedy club? Not so bad, I’ve found.
One month in, I can’t say I’ve mastered the art of sober dating, but I’m persevering. I haven’t met a romantic match, and nothing has gone beyond a second date. But I have met some pretty nice guys; in fact, the type of guys I wouldn’t have even considered before. As my lifestyle and drinking habits change, in turn so does what I find attractive in a partner. I am active, ambitious and hard-working, and that’s what I’m looking for in somebody else.
Am I giving up alcohol forever? Probably not. The comfort that comes with enjoying a glass of red wine on a Sunday afternoon while a roast cooks in the oven is one of my favourite feelings. I love date nights where you get ridiculously dressed up and go somewhere fancy for once, treating each other to the most expensive cocktail on the menu. And there’s nothing like the happiness that comes with the clink of champagne glasses colliding at a best friend’s wedding, or the fizzy sip of Aperol on your first holiday together.
But going back to letting alcohol take such a leading role in my love life? That’s about as likely as me playing crazy golf again.
Written by: Roisin Kelly
© The Times of London