I started partying in little dodgy clubs when I was 17. My sister opened my eyes to the life after dark. Then I got into a relationship and spent the next three and a half years too devoted to the wrong man.
Post breakup, again it was my sister who brought me out every weekend so I wouldn’t coop myself up in my room and bawling like a baby. On hindsight, that was such a waste of my tears.
Fast forward the next few years and partying was on my agenda every Saturday, if not more. Then, clubbing buddies started getting hitched and having babies. And suddenly, I am in my late 20s and still on the shelf. Not that I’m clamouring to get married……
So now that I’m older, I find that I’m no longer looking forward to dressing up and partying the night away, and most times coming home in a stupor. My bank account and liver are thankful for this. I think.
Because I cannot make up my mind if I want to be a hermit or drink, the next best solution came up- opening a bottle of wine and reading a good book at the same time.
So there I’m, sipping my wine and enjoying my book and suddenly I realised I polished off the bottle all by myself. No wonder I had to re-read some lines and found the words swimming.
And I do feel a little sick. Why oh why do I not learn to draw the line???! I need to go lie down now.
Some things just never change. Whether one is 17 in skanky clothes and both loving and hating open bars, or 27 in PJs, both loving and hating drinking.