Back in the day I admit to going out a lot. Actually, I was an outaholic [def: a person who is addicted to going out at night]. I went to class during the day, went to club meetings Mondays through Thursdays and come Friday night, sometimes Thursday, I was out. And this was only in New York. When I was abroad in Ghana, I went out like it was going out of style. Tuesdays through Sundays. Good times... But back to New York. Nap or not, I'd go out to some lounge or club, dancing the night away, grabbing food in the early morning hours before drifting away into sleep, usually waking up not much later. Then I'd repeat the whole cycle the next night, the next weekend, the next month, the next year...
Having New York as your "college campus" makes for fun times and I took full advantage of that. Even after I graduated college and moved 45 minutes outside of the city to Forest Hills, I still continued to go out every Friday and Saturday, getting home around 5am every weekend. Well, it looks like years of being an outaholic have caught up with me.
It's Friday night and I'm in my bed, glasses on, watching the news. Could I have gone out to a club or lounge tonight? Yes. Do I want to? No.
I like to think it's all the hours of sleep I lost in the past five years coming back to haunt me. Frankly, at the end of the work week, I am tired. I like a good dinner or happy hour with friends but rarely do I look forward to staying out until 3am on a Friday night. I'm at the gym or class or somewhere almost every weekday night and by Friday, I'm just too damn exhausted. But also, part of me is over the club scene. I love going out dancing but I no longer look forward to getting dressed up to head to the Meatpacking District, only to get stuck in the line outside or paraded in by some promoter and 10 other girls or crammed into a space with a bunch of other people who want to see and be seen. It gets old pretty quickly. And almost every girl can relate to the club experience where you're approached by some guy who's most likely drunk or trying to get you drunk so that you'll go home with him, or at least hook up with him in some club corner. Newsflash: Not cute.
These days, I prefer good wine and good conversation. Maybe that makes me 54 instead of 24 but I'm okay with that. I think about the nights where I've had a really great time and a portion involved going out dancing, but lately a good portion involves grabbing dinner and drinks with friends and just talking. I no longer feel the need to text everyone I know to find out where the party is taking place tonight. In fact, if I hadn't given up alcohol for lent, I'd have my trusty glass of Chardonnay with me right now while I watch tv.
But don't worry, the outaholic in me hasn't completely died. I have a feeling once lent is over and the weather gets warm (one can only dream), I'll be out and about at various rooftop lounges around the city. Mostly on Saturdays I'm sure but I'll still be there.
As for tonight, Netflix has played cupid and I have a date with Wall-E. Be jealous.
Having New York as your "college campus" makes for fun times and I took full advantage of that. Even after I graduated college and moved 45 minutes outside of the city to Forest Hills, I still continued to go out every Friday and Saturday, getting home around 5am every weekend. Well, it looks like years of being an outaholic have caught up with me.
It's Friday night and I'm in my bed, glasses on, watching the news. Could I have gone out to a club or lounge tonight? Yes. Do I want to? No.
I like to think it's all the hours of sleep I lost in the past five years coming back to haunt me. Frankly, at the end of the work week, I am tired. I like a good dinner or happy hour with friends but rarely do I look forward to staying out until 3am on a Friday night. I'm at the gym or class or somewhere almost every weekday night and by Friday, I'm just too damn exhausted. But also, part of me is over the club scene. I love going out dancing but I no longer look forward to getting dressed up to head to the Meatpacking District, only to get stuck in the line outside or paraded in by some promoter and 10 other girls or crammed into a space with a bunch of other people who want to see and be seen. It gets old pretty quickly. And almost every girl can relate to the club experience where you're approached by some guy who's most likely drunk or trying to get you drunk so that you'll go home with him, or at least hook up with him in some club corner. Newsflash: Not cute.
These days, I prefer good wine and good conversation. Maybe that makes me 54 instead of 24 but I'm okay with that. I think about the nights where I've had a really great time and a portion involved going out dancing, but lately a good portion involves grabbing dinner and drinks with friends and just talking. I no longer feel the need to text everyone I know to find out where the party is taking place tonight. In fact, if I hadn't given up alcohol for lent, I'd have my trusty glass of Chardonnay with me right now while I watch tv.
But don't worry, the outaholic in me hasn't completely died. I have a feeling once lent is over and the weather gets warm (one can only dream), I'll be out and about at various rooftop lounges around the city. Mostly on Saturdays I'm sure but I'll still be there.
As for tonight, Netflix has played cupid and I have a date with Wall-E. Be jealous.
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