After yesterday’s blog post about approaching middle age and the boring things I’ve done this week, my best friend text me and asked WTF regarding the car boot organiser. In fact, I think her exact words were “Are you 87?”
We then discussed the fact that she had fingered through a car maintenance catalogue whilst at work that very day.
My point had been made. This getting old business is catching.
And while we’re talking about the onset of middle agedness, another thing I’ve noticed is my lack of desire for going out. This isn’t a sudden realisation though, it has been developing for the past five years or so. And I think I know what the defining moment was.
I remember going to a cheesy nightclub in Maidstone (I know I know), more specifically ^cough^ the R&B room upstairs, and as I looked around I just suddenly felt so old. I mean, I know I wasn’t exactly young (I was probably in my late 30s), but suddenly everyone just looked really young. I felt really out of place and wanted to go home immediately. My best friend is six years younger than me, and I asked her if she felt the same. And she did. Pretty depressing evening all round, although I’m pretty sure we danced our asses off to Usher and JT.
It has got worse ever since that fateful Friday night in the shitty Maidstone nightclub. I struggle to summon the energy to stay out past 8pm. There’s nothing I love more than chilling in my bedroom (erm, albeit it’s dad spare room right now), lighting a scented candle, finding something on Netflix or Sky Go and cracking out a bag of Revels. I can’t think of anything worse than having to go through the whole rigmarole of getting ready, finding transport, forking out too much money for a G&T when I have (just nipping off to count them), 13* cans of assorted gin and tonics waiting to be drunk in the kitchen.
*three for a fiver in Sainsburys.
I chat with my best friend every day on WhatsApp so I always have my best friend fix. Internet dating has had its day as far as I’m concerned (at least for the foreseeable future) and I haven’t had an official date for about a year. I can’t say I miss it. Dating that is … there are ‘some’ things I miss.
I’ve stopped pretending that I want to spend my evening in a pub man-watching. I really really don’t. I would rather watch Masterchef and Game of Thrones (whilst wearing mis-matched pyjamas.) I like my own company, I always have, so I never feel I need to be around others and especially when the weather is rubbish, there’s nothing nicer than just being at home. The main reasons I go out these days is to ferry Dexter around for football shenanigans.
Having said all of the above, I do love the spontaneity of nipping down to Brighton for a couple of days and I’m talking at a conference this weekend in Manchester, so I’m not a hermit per se … but these events aren’t the norm and that’s fine by me. I have made peace with the fact that it’s my 20-year-old son that now has the life I used to have and the baton is well and truly passed.
My idea of a great night out is to go to a friend’s house for blinis and Prosecco. We’ll watch BGT and The Three Musketeers, whilst playing with her kids and I love it!
I’d be interested to hear if anyone else feels like this. Sometimes I sound like a right miserable bag (I’m not obv) but at my age, I just like what I like. A blogging friend of mine, Jane, said that when she goes through her boring phases, she compensates by going out and having another tattoo. I think that’s a great idea … were I not put off completely by the one tattoo I had aged 30 and vowed never EVER to do it again. Another friend, we’ll call her Lizzi (for that is her name) suggested I just walked around wearing really kinky underwear. I’m presuming she meant under my clothes, but you never know with that one. The conversation then took a distinctly perverted turn (strap-ons may have been mentioned) and I decided to sleep on it. As it were.
I guess that’s the thing, as much as I love my life as it is, sometimes it’s a good idea to inject a little bit of excitement now and then.
All ideas welcome! (I may regret that.)