I'm sat waiting for a text message to tell me where peeps are so that I can hit the town and go out for some drinkies to celebrate some forthcoming nuptials. It's 9.20pm. I did eventually get dressed, but I've still got my slippers on. There's quite a big part of me that is thinking sack this for a game of soldiers, put my feet up, and curl up on the sofa and refuse to go out. But I can't cos I said I would. It's been such a long time since I've been out in the town, mainly because no-one else I know goes out anymore. It's so expensive, it's often not exciting, in fact the last few times I have been out have been pretty pants. Can you sense that my expectations are not high? I feel old. When did getting glammed up and hitting the town become such a chore? With a feeling of dread I admit that maybe I've got past all that and moved on to the next phase.
But what is the next phase? Is it dinner parties? God I hope not, I hate dinner parties. But where does that leave you? Visits to the cinema although out are hardly what I would call sociable as you don't really talk to the person you're out with except for the brief car journey there and back. I like a visit to a pub with some quality pub grub but those kind of good pubs are few and far between in towns, and trips out into the country mean someone has to drive. Sheesh. No-one ever said that hitting your 30s would make you question what a good night out means anymore!
Is it official? Am I now old?
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