I (don’t) like the nightlife.

It occurred to me on Saturday night that I have reached the point in my life where I no longer enjoying going out to bars. In fact, it sort of feels like a chore to me. We went to Rochester for the evening with some friends, and I don’t know, maybe it was the barefoot, dreadlocked hippie who was spouting incoherent nonsense, hugging Andy, and throwing empty airplane bottles of liquor on the sidewalk. Or, maybe it was the guy with no ability to read social cues, battering Andy and I with a steady stream of hard-to-follow, rapid-fire questions about our level of satisfaction with the state of the world’s affairs (also, are those questions that need to be asked of anyone, at this point in the game?). No, no! I know what it was. It was the terrible jam band playing, lulling high bar patrons into a communal sway, while some would-be hipster was inexplicably painting a giant canvas in the middle of the room, which people were really finding a great addition to the evening’s ambiance. It all EXHAUSTED me. And kind of embarrassed me. I don’t mean to come across as a jerk, but I just don’t get how people can keep propelling themselves out, weekend after weekend, drowning themselves in cologne and glittery eyeshadow, looking for something that doesn’t even exist. That said, I know it’s something most people have to experience, at fixed points in life. I just don’t like looking at it, or being a part of it anymore. Besides, I think there’s an episode of “House Hunters International” on.
I don’t know when I became lame, and preoccupied with garden beds instead of social events, but all of those adulthood prophecies that our parents and others predict for us are coming true, for me. And I am kind of okay with that. While life in your younger years is arguably more exciting in certain aspects, I think as you get older, your idea of what is exciting in and of itself changes. Priorities really do change, and it becomes less important to know what other people are doing, and how to keep up with them, for fear of missing out on something. Thankfully, facebook allows me to experience it secondhand, without the unfortunate hangover and/or property damage.
All in all, I lasted until about midnight on Saturday. Luckily, Andy and Co. were losing steam at approximately the same time. Off we went towards home, which has apparently become my new Saturday evening hotspot. Hokey as it is, I’m realizing that I love our routine and togetherness at home, complete with the dog taking up way too much space between us on the couch, more than being out. And if nothing else, at least there’s no cover charge. Or skinny jeans.