Being a single woman in my 40s, I’ve enjoyed my fair share of good times.

I have bought the love of my life (a gorgeous chihuahua called Ziggy), applied for jobs I wasn’t qualified for (and yet, got!), kissed strangers and thrown my life belongings into storage before buying a one-way ticket to Paris for the summer.

The one thing these experiences all have in common? They all happened after a glass (or three, or four) of wine. And it was glorious.

Those stories will keep me company in my dying days as I look back on my life with a smile.

In fact, I’d go as far as to say the best times in my life wouldn’t have happened without a healthy dose of alcohol in the mix.

Which is why I feel so sorry for British podcaster Steven Bartlett, who recently caused a storm when he announced that, normally teetotal, he had once had three glasses of wine and it had ruined the next three days of his life. He slept badly, ate badly and, most tragically of all, ‘podcasted worse’.

It raises the question: has the man ever just... lived?

I’m not alone in thinking this. New York University business professor Scott Galloway caused his own furore recently when he declared that the anti-alcohol movement is ‘the worst thing that’s happened to young people’.

His reasoning was that the risks to your 25-year-old liver from drinking on a night out with friends are dwarfed by the risk of social isolation if you’re too anxious to go out.

He says that alcohol is a lubricant that helps us get out of our own heads and makes us start, well, living. That’s certainly the case for me.

Last year, on a whim – and a hangover – I decided to put all my things in storage and move to Paris for the summer.

Could I speak French? Non. Had I ever spent more than three days there? Also, non.

But when I found myself at the airport, suddenly petrified at the prospect of a life that was completely foreign to me, guess what got me on the plane? Three cold, crisp glasses of champagne.

By the time they called us to board, I practically skipped on to the plane and went on to have the best three months of my life.

And what helped me settle into that glorious city and make some lifelong friends?

You guessed it – shared bottles of wine over long lunches and Aperol spritz in the sunshine. Because, while no one is claiming that excessive binge drinking is the route to health and happiness, some of the most amazing things I’ve experienced began when I stopped being so bloody cautious and afraid.

And alcohol has undoubtedly helped with that.

A glass of wine has never made me a genius, but it has stopped me over-analysing everything. To strike up a conversation with someone I would otherwise have smiled at and walked past. To stop worrying about whether something is sensible and start wondering whether it might be fun.

It’s not just the life-changing moments either. Sometimes it’s much smaller, but helps us feel true connection.

Because is there anything better than cradling a cold one with a friend as you share stories of your hopes, humiliations and everything else?

And yet, apparently, a generation disagrees. Gen Z in the UK are drinking around 20 per cent less than millennials did at the same age, with nearly half now reaching for a no or low-alcohol alternative.

Sadly for them, it doesn’t seem to be making them any healthier: a study last week found that young people are ageing faster on a molecular level than previous generations, with those born in the 90s having relatively higher biological ages than those born in the 60s. Doctors warn this may be behind rising cancer rates in the under-50s.

As for happier, well, the declining mental health of Gen Z is well-documented.

Maybe they shun the booze because they grew up in an era of lockdowns, sleep scores and wellness influencers. They’re the first generation to be told they can ‘optimise’ every aspect of their lives.

I’m no doctor, but here’s what the wellness industry won’t tell you as they recommend kale smoothies and 12 hours in bed: some of the times I’ve felt the most alive are after a night out I probably shouldn’t have had – and plenty of people agree with me.

Take one of my dear readers who went on a solo trip to America, joining a group tour of people in their 20s for two weeks of frippery. On that trip she met the ‘love of her life’, and ‘for a joke’ after one too many drinks they decided to get married by Elvis in Vegas. That was ten years ago – and they’re still happily married!

A friend used her Dutch courage to tell her boss, who she had been crushing on for three years, that she fancied him one Friday at after-work drinks. They’re now expecting their first child.

Maybe these might have happened without alcohol. But it’s unlikely.

Because I think Scott Galloway is right. The real risk of drinking – or not – isn’t to your liver, it’s to your life. The un-lived, un-laughed, un-toasted version that sits in its bedroom optimising its sleep and ‘podcasting worse’.

Three glasses of wine may have ruined three days of Steven Bartlett’s life. But they sure have improved mine.