*cue sound of a stylus being ripped across a record*
OK. OK. That’s not strictly true. I’d actually spend most of the time panicking about what to wear, what I’d say to people (especially if they were of a female persuasion) and how I’d cope with the inevitable sense of despair and failure when I went home yet again without having managed to get myself a snog / shag / girlfriend.
*cue the sound of a stylus being tearfully lowered onto any record at all by The Smiths*
But what I didn’t do is what I frequently do now:
Which is spend my time miserably calculating how many hours of sleep I’m going to lose and how much more tired I’m going to feel the next day and how many early nights it will now take subsequent to the night out for me to fully recover my (already flagging) joie de vivre.
‘Cos to be honest I’m dead on my feet by 9pm most nights and there has to be something really good on the telly for me to stay awake and engaged past 10.
These are the combined effects of middle age, parenthood and a tendency to be anti-social in the first place.
It’s tempting to say I have never been a party animal. But going out for a drink with friends last night (on a work night? How daring!) has proven to me that, in fact, I am a party animal. I’m just a party animal of a certain type.
The type that looks like a kicked to death hound-dog the next day. The type whose bloodshot eyes resemble those of a dancing bear who has been slagged off by Bruno Tonioli for messing up the bogo pogo. The type whose snake breath could strip the bullet proof coating from a Chieftain tank at 50 paces.
The type that is, to put it plainly, not a happy bunny.
So. Post-drinks lesson learnt: partying is for spring chickens and not for old goats.
*sigh*
Excuse me, people, I need to go back to my sty and wallow...
57 comments:
You need to embrace antisocialness and wallow in that. You're not missing anything.
Rol: I knew you'd understand.
Oh how I used to love going out to clubs, parties - in fact I was part of a group of spoilt North London brats that used to go out gate-crashing parties on a Saturday night. We were always let in as well.
Nowadays I'm happy to sit and watch SCD on a Saturday night with a bowl of fruit in front of me. How we do indeed turn into our parents!
FF: to be honest my parents seem to have more of a social life than me! if I turned into them it might be a good thing!
I think the 'obligatory' parties soured me for life...balancing a glass, a plate, a fork and something luckily unidentifiable which claimed to be edible is not my idea of a good time.
I used to like going to restaurants...and then I moved to France which sodded up that little pleasure as well.
I'm with you on this Steve, I mostly just can't be bothered and the knowledge that I'm going to have to get up the next day and be with the ids is enough to stop me even if I could.
it's the repetitiveness of the conversation over the loud music and the loud conversations of others that leave me sort of in a box of unable to engage antisocialness when I go out. But a house full of guests and I can party hearty. It's the actual stepping outside my front door that wears me out!
The fly in the web: there's always McDonalds - I tend to find they are the perfect antidote to any kind of restaurant.
Heather: glad I'm not the only one. Given the choice between a good night's sleep or a night down the pub... I'd take the Z's any day.
Kelloggsville: you might be onto something there. Maybe I should just invite the pub to my house? On second thoughts I don't think I could put up with the vomit on the floor, the piss on the bathroom walls and the panda eyed teen girl sobbing on the front step because her boyfriend's just dumped her.
Its not just me then? phew.....and just like everyone else, I have my memories of going out at 11pm, and clubs, parties, etc., but mother nature knows what she is doing at certain life ages and now I love to be in bed by 10 with a good book or a dvd....and let my kids live the young life.
Libby: yes that's the right way to look at it. I haven't bailed out. I've just passed on the baton.
Ah ya bunch of miserable old codgers, I'm often found dancing the night away down the local disco, knocking back the tequillas and partying till 4am.
I am of course lying, I couldn't do that whilst I was young, no chance nowadays.
Very Bored in Catalunya: but isn't it good to have the fantasy?
Haaaaa!!! Thank you for speaking aloud the true reason that I rarely want to go out anymore. (Despite the additional fact that I no longer look as good getting jiggy in the hanging box cage with the strobe lights and such) I am just too damn tired the next day. And you are right. I spend a lot of time fretting about just how much the rest of the week is going to suck, post-outing. Seriously though, I'd like to see some photos of you in the hanging box cage. That could be a post of its own.
Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip: as soon as the police give me my hard drive back I'll email some over. But be warned. They ain't pretty.
PMSL.
I thought it was just me!
Oh well, at least you're in good company.
LCM x
LCM: nice to know there are so many of us. We really ought to all get together and go out for a drink sometime...
Crickey we are a miserable bunch of old farts!
Completely with you on this one.
Occasionally (probably once a year)
I think I'll dip my toe back in, have a good dance, a great time, but regret it for the majority of the following week, coz I'm knackered and my feet hurt from dancing in heels.
Suzanne: if being a miserable old fart gets me enough sleep to function properly during the day bring on the trumps!
A very honest and truthful post, Steve. As someone of the same age I can relate to what you're saying a great deal. In my heart, I'm a party animal, and yet...
...I can't be arsed.
you need to adopt a drink strategy.
1.) Only drink rum, lime and soda
2.) Halfway through eve take one nurofen
3.) At bedtime, one alka seltzer, one nurofen
4.) in morning paracetamol, nurofen and water
OC: it's a sign of maturity. Apparently. I'm desperately trying to make it a positive; can you tell?
Modern Military Mother: I can tell you've thought about this a great deal.
I can actually, Steve. Staying in is the new going out, didn't you know?!
OC: totally. Going out is so 1989, dude.
I so used to be able to drink - especially scotch, but no longer. And I reckon wine makes you a bit an oldster the drinking stakes too.
Bak to my glass of Chablis
Mark: personally, I think you can't beat a nice drop of port.
Loved this! And like everyone else I can relate, completely. Truth be told, I never liked the club scene, even in my younger days. I much preferred to be home reading a good book. Yeah, pass the party hat.
Welcome to old age Steve ! We'll all be plodding along the halls of a geriatric home for old bloggers soon...
Wanderlust: yep - pass the party hat; I think I'm going to throw up into it. Me + Late nights + alcohol (to the power 10) = spew.
Owen: I need a keyboard with huge keys and a built in magnifyer already.
Honestly, being social is SO overrated. Happy to be hermits, that's me and my Steve.
Being Me: your own company is always best. It's the only way to hear anyone talking sense.
If it's any consolation, old goats are tough.
well you moaning faced owld codger you! here's me, several (!) years your senior thinking that you young lad were the life and soul of and you're just a boring owld fart in reality. move over ken barlow.
(arf arf)
;-))
lgsquirrel: damn right - we take a lot of tenderizing!
Clippy Mat: ah but look where Deirdrie's partying has got her!
Post drinks payback, the body my dear friend Steve, never forgets!!!
LöstJimmy: aye, the spirit is willing but the metabolism is slow...
Very funny post. I love your stylus asterisk interjections. I could just hear that! Yes, this is the thing with middle age. The reality of being out late is never quite the same as the anticipation. And why does everyone else who's out look so young? SO annoying. Might as well stay at home and not be annoyed.
Fran: the worst thing is all the people I consider to be old fogeys are all out enjoying themselves far more than I am. Turncoats the lot of them.
In my previous life (before children) my weekends used to start on a Wednesday and end with a dismal sorry for myself sunday eagerly awaiting Monday morning! These days even tho' it's great to be able to go out and not get smoked to death by others second hand smoke, I still can't handle a big night out! You ain't alone, altho' I do give it a whirl everynowandthen just to make sure....
Amanda: I'm kind of the same. I go out every now and then just to prove that I still haven't got it.
The beauty of an afternoon nap to counterbalance the madness. That's luxury.
English Rider: sadly such a luxury is not available unless we hire a babysitter for that very purpose.
Well, I'm for one is glad that the song said 'Tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999' because that is all behind me now, phew, good ol' 2010 doesn't require anything of the sort. Although, if needed I can boogie on down with the the younger ones. Thank God that's not required a lot nowadays, rather the opposite...
TheUndertaker: the really sad thing is I wasn't even much of a party animal in 1999.
The best party I ever went to was when I was 7. 1976 was a great year.
Funny, I went through a sort of party animal revival when I first left my husband -5 years ago!! Don't know how I managed honestly, with the late nights, the hangovers etc. (No I'm not going to spell out the 'etc'!) But these days one hard week at week and a measley launch and I was tired and emotional on Friday night and there was no hope in hell I was moving from the sofa! I guess I'm middle aged now, too. Sigh.
Vegemitevix: it isn't all bad. The great thing about being middle aged is... er... that you now probably own the sofa you have collapsed upon. OK. OK. I'm clutching at straws. Sue me.
It's all parenthood, definitely!
Laura: you're telling me. Trouble is I'm starting to look older than my parents!
SO by my feeble maths standards, does that mean u r a fellow -69:er? YEARS, man, YEARS! No, not old, sheez... U know what I mean
TheUndertaker: yes, you got it right, I'm a 69-er babe. Er, if you see what I mean. The Chinese year of the cock. As in cockerel not... oh good grief!
I am exactly the same- I love staying in. I had babies as an excuse not to go out clubbing. I HATE CLUBBING!
Misssy M: you hate clubbing? Where have you been all my life?!
I'm pretty sure that midnight drinking in public was supposed to be packed away with our university books and highschool jeans. If the clothes you're currently wearing have never had alcohol, drunken vomit, or drunken ciggie ashes spilt on them then clubbing is not for you.
This is why God made couches - stay in and drink. It's cheaper and you can go to bed whenever you want
Readily A Parent: God made couches? Cool. My devotion is confirmed.
Man up wet pants. You need to fight for your right to party! Come on chum - you can do it!! You just have to believe that you can sellp when you are dead and invest in a good mosituriser! x
Modern Military Mother: I'd sooner fight for my right to have a lie-in in the mornings... though with 2 boys who like to be awake before 6.30am I think that might be a fight I'll end up losing!
LOL-know that feeling.
Maybe we are just getting old? (Did I say that out loud???)
Susie: I think that is the inescapable truth of the matter!
Post a Comment