Using lubricant

My, God, when did my nights out become, "I'm not drunk enough yet, I must increase my consumption?" I mean, hell, if I'm that bored to notice, I should freakin' leave. But then that would mean going home. Alone. To the nagging suspicion that somewhere, out there, I'm missing the good time to be had. So "let me have another Harp...and a Jameson, neat" has become part of the ritual.

Why does it seem that so many of our thirty-nothing social activities center around drinking? When's the last time somebody said to you, "Hey, I've got a Scrabble board...wanna come over and play - I'll make lemonade?" No, it's poker and beers, or pool and beers, or darts and beers, or beers and beers. Do we lack the necessary confidence to just entertain without lubricant? Do we lack creativity? Are we so bored with ourselves that we seek distraction from the fact that our lives are nowhere near where we imagined them to be when we were younger? I certainly don't have the answer, but I'm pretty sure it's yes.