I hate going out. Anyone who knows me understands that it's a huge feat for me to leave the house after 11pm, because I generally don't have fun/get overwhelmed in large groups and I have this thing where I feel incredibly guilty if I'm awake really late because I know I'm wasting a huge portion of the next day. I thought turning 21 would force me to go out more, and while I suppose it has to some extent, I still pretty much despise it. It's gotten to the point where I will literally get dressed up and start drinking, then decide I'm tired and would rather stay home and read. Even last night, on our vaca in DC, my roommate and I took two metros to go to Adams Morgan, then decided we were tired and after getting hardcore hit on by a southern boy from Mississippi, decided it was time to hit the sack instead. Why am I a 40 year old in a 21 year old's body? It's bizarre.
Actually, I'll tell you why. It's because I used to go out. A lot. At 18 I did the New York club circuit- the music, the drugs, the kissing ass of wannabe NYLON employees. Freshmen year was not your typical college experience: there were no dorm parties, no frat parties, no traditional "let's throw a dinner party" parties. Freshmen year was me and my friends, on a shitton of drugs, going out to exclusive 21+ places until 6 in the morning. It was staying until the club closed and then taking the subway to Brooklyn to continue partying until brunch time. It was adderall and never sleeping and missing class and getting shitty grades and dating a slew of unacceptable men too old and too immature for me. Freshmen year is a blur because all of my friends-- incredibly wonderful and responsible and intelligent people-- all went crazy. Things got completely out of control. Some of us dropped out, some of us took a semester off, some of us learned that we couldn't continue at that rate and slowly adjusted to the idea that college is not all about getting as fucked up as possible. We were young and immature and ridiculous. We had come from the suburbs and we took New York by the neck and we didn't want to let go, no matter what, because we were in this wonderful city and we could, for the first time in our lives, do whatever we wanted. And so we did, we did whatever we wanted for an entire year. We fucked and fucked up and drank and fought and got in trouble and redeemed ourselves.
It was tumultuous but it was also beautiful, for what it was, because we were too naive and young to understand the implications of it all.
And I wouldn't trade it in, but now I'm kind of suffering the consequences of peaking too early. Instead of having a seamless ascent into grownup life where going out is a privilege and not a 4 out of 7 days a week activity, I now kind of see going out as a chore. It used to be see and be seen, drink and get drunk. Now, at 21, the first time I can legally doing all of these things, I'm just completely uninterested.
I'm not sure if this is a bad or a good thing. On the one hand, I'd rather be realizing this now instead of at age 30. But on the other hand, it'd be nice to recapture that carefree attitude I toted freshmen year, so I wouldn't always have to feel like such an old, boring person.
I really should have just made the body of this post "Wow I am lame."