Party

So the first birthday celebration at a bar I’ve been to in a long time happened tonight, and as lucky as Chris and I are, it was pouring rain most of the night. Chris’s shoes and socks were completely soaked. Then we got forced into a mandatory paid coat check because apparently at this drinks/dance/pool venue (yes, four-feet-deep only, though), you’re not allowed to wear your coat or even carry it. I also couldn’t order a drink for Chris and could only order a drink for myself – the rules of the bar. And my friend’s happy hour ended just half an hour after we arrived. Now, I’m reminded of all the reasons I don’t enjoy “partying.” Even before I was living with Chris and “settled down” in that way, even when I wanted to like it, deep down, I still didn’t. Why would I have a conversation yelling with someone over loud music when I could possibly do the exact same thing at a restaurant or wine bar where we could all sit comfortably and talk without straining our voices?

Maybe it’s a sign of age, or maybe it’s my inner “oldness” that I’ve always had because I never got that excited about these types of events. Either way, I’d only go for someone I really cared about. As time goes on, the need to “party” and “get wasted” will die down for everyone with age, anyway, and will be replaced with more meaningful activities. It’s one positive of getting older.

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