I love drinking.

So why did I quit?

Alcohol was a big part of my life from 17 to 44. I absolutely love it:

• a couple bourbon manhattans on the big cube, bulleit or pappy or four roses (or maker’s when I was cash poor)

• a cold pint of Guinness at the Windsor watching the Bears, a Stella at Smith Tavern for Barcelona-Madrid, a Sierra Nevada in the hot tub in Tahoe

• wine tasting in Tuscany on our honeymoon, bringing home bottles of cabernet blends, a chilled flute of viognier with my wife’s family, an after-dinner armagnac at Minetta Tavern

• Zacapa! on the rocks — my absolute favorite — which I discovered at a bar in Guatemala when a guy chastised me in Spanish for ordering Havana Club

• and of course hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of Busch Lights and Bud Lights and red bull vodkas and long island iced teas in college

• and maybe thousands of rum and diet cokes (or sometimes rum and dr. pepper) - which was my go-to from 19 to 30 before I became a snob

Yes, I had an epic run. Yes, I’ve lived well. And hard. And at times it’s been so, so fun.

During the heyday of my 20s and 30s — my hypomanic days, drinking cultures at work, MBA program debauchery, and years of functional alcoholism in NYC building a startup and living the bachelor life — I estimate I was having between 10 and 20 drinks a week.

I chilled WAY out when I met Manuela at 34, so 34-44 was lower key, but still tying one on now and again, and “social drinking” more often, call it two a night a couple times a week.

Then, two years ago, I quit.

Here’s why:

Walking down Astor Street, over a couple of days, I listened to the Andrew Huberman’s podcast about alcohol. What cemented for me was realizing that it is basically poison — it is poison — and that there is no safe amount. While most people think their weekly glass of wine or cocktail at dinner is probably not that bad, the damage to the brain might be more than the damage to the liver.

Meanwhile, I’m not a weekly guy. I’m a have one, have one more. And if I had one yesterday, why not today.

So fundamentally I was going to be ingesting poison on a regular basis unless I made a change. And — in my case, WHICH MIGHT NOT BE YOUR CASE, I had to draw a bright white line. It’s probably totally cool to have six drinks a year. But again, no safe amount, and not with a rhythm.

I ain’t saying this is the only science out there. There’s some studies on how that daily red wine glass is a great decision. I have no idea. All I knew was this wasn’t for me anymore.

It happened in two phases. I did dry November and December for two months — and by the way also to eat better and lose weight, as disinhibited me is down for major dessert and probably an after-dinner espresso. (I won’t even get into the impact of alcohol on sleep — because it’s out there in droves).

Then, after those two months, I regressed.

I had one scotch on the rocks on a New Year’s flight to Brazil and it broke the seal. Slowly but surely I became a biweekly drinker again. Nowhere near the 6-20 level, but probably at the 2-5 level a week — which still doesn’t clear the Huberman bar of that might not be good for your brain.

Also by the way — having a kid and being even slightly hungover is the absolute worst. They don’t give a shit that you have a headache (and I started to get headaches in the morning after ONE cocktail).

Playing tiny trucks is already pretty boring, doing it while your head is pounding is an exercise in self-loathing.

Later I’ll share more on how awesome the non-alc movement is, and all the stuff I drink now when I want to “sort of” be having one, but am not actually having one at all.