I was sitting at home with my feet up ready to read a good book and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Suddenly, my friend DM’d me and it turned out it was her birthday so I told her “I’ll be right there.”
Armed with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon to gift her and a White Claw for me to drink I arrived twenty minutes later.
We headed down to a Piano Bar and moments after walking in we realized it was filled with the class of ‘69 as they celebrated one hundred years since graduation.
After a good laugh about how we were too young to fit in we decided to have one drink and then slip away to a more suitable spot to celebrate her birthday in style. We sipped our drinks, sang along and talked about how great fries are for the next twenty minutes.
We left our unfinished drinks and strategically exited as the pianist sang the line “Get the f$&# out” in the song he was playing which gave all the old people a good laugh.
At the next spot we hit up we snagged a table in the middle of the crowd where we couldn’t hear each other speak. After a round of drinks we moved to a quieter spot next to some thirty-year-old guys visiting from Seattle.
For the next hour we all talked about how hungry we were and how nice it would be to get some fries. Someone ordered nachos and we spent another hour waiting for them, ordering some pizza in the interim.
By the time we had devoured the pizza and nachos we were ready to move on, the thirty-year-olds having already gone home for the night. Once again, we abandoned our unfinished drinks and armed with a box of a few slices of pepperoni pizza went on our way.
We ended up at a bar where there was a wait to get in and once inside saw that it was filled to capacity. We sat at a table with our drinks and our group decided to go dance while I stayed behind to watch the purses.
Perfectly content to sip White Claw and scroll Instagram while people danced and got faded around me I realized that I wasn’t even bummed about not dancing.
A few minutes later they were done and we left our unfinished drinks and headed outside because we heard there was a taco truck. As we sat on the curb devouring tacos we discussed how tired we were and decided to call it a night.
During the Uber ride home I thought about how the highlight of my night was singing along while the pianist played “Summer of ‘69” by Bryan Adams in that Piano Bar.
Throughout girl’s night out we discussed the enticing prospect of food or sleep and left unfinished drinks everywhere we hung out.
Seven years ago I wouldn’t have even thought about food while drinking and leaving an unfinished drink behind was blasphemy.
So while I laughed about how I wasn’t old going into girls’ night out, I left with the suspicion that maybe I am. Thirty minutes later, face washed and sweatpants on, I stood over my baby’s crib in my quiet house and knew without a doubt that I am.
I also realized in that moment that I’m perfectly okay with it. I love my sweatpants and my early bedtime and my clean face. I love food and light to moderate drinking and classic music (‘90’s Smash Hits on Spotify qualifies).
I love that I’m not in that season anymore and the thing I love the most is that I’m okay with it.
So if you’re in your late-twenty’s plus and parenting and feeling depressed about losing that young, hip you: I highly recommend a girl’s or guy’s night out.
Who knows? You may discover that there’s nothing to be depressed about after all.