Sick and the City – Part 3

6 Apr

Ok, I’ll admit it. The one thing that has affected me the most since I found out I was pregnant is not being able to drink alcohol. Apart from my husband, and ok, maybe shoes, there has only been one other great love of my life and that is wine. White wine to be precise.  This love affair began when I was 21 and it has only grown stronger since then. It is, without a doubt, the longest relationship I have ever had.  Other drinks have come and gone (K cider when I was 14 and thought I was cool. I wasn’t – I vomited after 1 bottle. Malibu and pineapple when I was 16 and clearly thought if I drank it I would be the height of sophistication. I wasn’t – I have photo evidence. Lager when I was a student – it was the only thing I could afford), but none have remained as loyal as old Mr Sauvignon Blanc.

So it was to my utter dismay that I would be going to New York and wouldn’t be able to have the odd tipple or 8. I might as well dress like a flapper girl and pretend it’s the prohibition. I mean, for bloody hell sake, I’m going to where the Cosmo became famous. I’m in Manhattan and I can’t have a bloody Manhattan. I feel genuinely cheated, bereft even.  Who doesn’t drink on their hollibobs? Pregnant women that’s who.  The ones sat in the corner with a tear in their eye, lemonade in hand giving death stares to anyone holding a wine glass.

Bless hubby, he tried to make me feel better. “We can always go to bars that sell non-alcoholic beer, they sort of taste the same don’t they?”  “No they don’t” I say. “What would you know? Nothing has to change for you does it”? Poor hubby, he looks worn out. He‘s seen the future and that line is one he’s going to hear a lot over the next 7.5 months. “They taste like crap. It’s not beer, it tastes nothing like beer and should not be consumed by anyone. Ever”. “Ok” he says, taking a step away from me. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad”. Now it’s my turn to step away before I ram a non-alcoholic beer up his arse.

Trying to remain positive I attempt to get excited about non-alcoholic cocktails. A pregnant woman needs her kicks somewhere. In Soho house I have a ‘Mojito’. It’s actually quite nice. Hubby and friend even pretend for me. “It’s so nice, you can’t tell the difference, I wish I’d had one” says friend. Feeling buoyed by this I even start to feel a little tipsy. Must be the E numbers.  Next it’s on to the Boom Boom Room at the top of the Standard hotel (quite possibly the most amazing bar I’ve ever been to in my life). With 360 degree panoramic views of Manhattan, it would be fabulous to sit and get drunk on cocktails. Oh, but wait, I can’t. Hubby comes back from the bar with my mocktail and the bar bill. It’s $18 for my pretend cocktail. $18!! “Is the ice made of diamonds”, I ask. Imagine what we would have spent if I did drink? Now I feel genuinely cheated.  Lemonade it is then.  In a wine glass. Naturally.


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