It is a rare and special occasion when a group of thirty-somethings can get away, leaving family and responsibility behind and partake in drunken conversations about life that lead to sober epiphanies. These past two weekends have been these types of occasions, and while I would love to divulge the weekend’s events, girl code prohibits me from spilling all of the juicy details. What I can share though, is that as a woman in her thirties I have come to the realization that my pallet for fun has evolved. Getting stupid drunk has lost its appeal. I’m not saying it no longer happens, but it’s no longer the purpose of any outing. Now if I do end up stupid drunk, not only do I pay for it with the never ending thirty-something hangover, but I also pay for it with guilt. The voice in my head says things my parents would say except now, the voice sounds a lot like me. My internal monologue somehow makes its way through the hangover fog and reprimands me with “Really, was that worth the risk of a DUI? DUI’s are expensive!” or, “You are a grown up with responsibilities, why put yourself or anybody else at risk?” or “Don’t you feel stupid for going out pretending like you’re a kid? You are definitely not a kid anymore…”
I make promises to myself when I somehow get home safely, make the sign of the cross more out of superstition than religious beliefs, and begin what I call a “detox,” which basically consists of not drinking alcohol. I know, I sound like a full blown alcoholic. I am not, (making the sign of the cross and knocking on wood this time just in case.) Really, I take this as yet another thirty-something realization, another sign of growing up. My definition of fun has to change and the return on investment for fun can no longer be higher than the actual fun itself.
So how did I come to this conclusion? Well, it all started with Las Vegas for my friend’s wedding, continued the following weekend with me back in Los Angeles at Griffith Park, laying on a bench at the Old Zoo Picnic area for a birthday party, and ended with me sitting on the couch at home, live guitar playing, and me zoning out while scrolling through all of the Netflix rows for about an hour without actually ever watching anything. Yeah. Go ahead. Make assumptions.
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