I'm Old...

My sister's birthday was earlier this month and she decided she wanted to go celebrate it at a club, much to my excitement. Not. One thing that's worth mentioning: I HATE clubbing. Didn't do it when I was 21, much less a decade later. It's just never been my thing. I'm an anti-social homebody. Reading, playing on my ipad and Netflix are some of my favorite activities. So the idea of dressing up and going into a crowded club was just not appealing to me at all. But it's my sister's birthday, so I felt obligated to make an appearance.

Adding to my stress was the fact that my husband and I were planning a surprise birthday party for her on Saturday and I had plenty of things to do in terms of prep, so going out Friday night was going to cut into my preparation time.

But fine, I'm the big sister, it's her birthday, I can make a sacrifice and go to her gathering. When I asked her what time she wanted me at her house (since my husband was weaseling out, under the guise of  "I need to work on prep for the party tomorrow), my sister tells me to be at her house at 10pm. Umm...ma'am? That's my bedtime. But I agreed to go, so I didn't complain. Earlier this year, I had a few wedding/baby showers and so I had a few dresses in my closet that I was going to recycle. No little black dress for me. Nothing tight or uncomfortable and definitely NO heels. At 6ft tall, I don't need them, nor do I feel like doing that to my poor feet. The hair? Oh geez, the hair. I'm in dire need of a haircut, but my girl doesn't have an opening until September. So do I straighten my hair to go to a crowded club in the middle of summer? Nah. Frizz-city waiting to happen. I just pinned it up, out of my face, and called it a day. Make-up? Minimal, as I'm not a fan. When I got to my sister's, she made me put some more on anyway, so that was that.

I get to my sister's house and both her and my brother are impressed with me wearing a dress. It seemed easier than finding 2 separate items to match up, skirt/top or pants/top. With a dress, I just pick one thing and I'm done. My brother's making a Dunkin Donuts run and asks if we want something. "Yes!!", I practically shout. I'm in dire need of caffeine and yawning like crazy. My sister and her friends sip on wine until we're ready to go. Me? I'm sucking on some coffee drink for dear life. Wine would make me even more sleepy.

As we're driving to the club, I'm feeling good, caffeine is kicking in, I'm trying to get myself pumped up because what's the point of dragging your old, sleepy sister to the club on your birthday, right? I don't want to ruin her day, so I'm doing my best to act like I'm having a good time. And I'm doing good. I do good as we pull into the lot, especially since we found a spot, I do good as we walk in and are directed to our seats, and I'm still doing good when the bottle service comes...until I find out how much it costs. $325 for a bottle of vodka. Say what? That's over 10x the retail price. Ridiculous. I wasn't planning to drink much but after finding out the price, I figured might as well get my money's worth. I lied though, I had like 2 drinks, if that. I'm not a big drinker, another reason why the club scene isn't for me.

We got there early, so we were fine, sitting comfortably, drinking and people watching. Then the crowd started trickling in, and in, and further in, until I could literally lean forward and touch someones ass with my nose. I mean, do people not believe in personal space? Is it just me? There's a couch in front of you, sir, and people are sitting on it, back the hell up. Needless to say, I don't do well with crowds either. Honestly, the more I write, the more I'm surprised I ever leave my house.

But yes, I survived a night out. Despite all the anxiety beforehand, I even managed to have a decent time, mostly cuz I was there with people that were cool and I could see my sister was having a nice time. I even danced some. I do my best dancing in the privacy of my home, but I got down to a few songs, I mean I was elbowed and stepped on while I did it, but I managed. I'm slightly proud of myself, how sad is that? Nothing will make you feel older than a night out clubbing with people younger than you.

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