Less often, but better.

So I went out on Saturday night, for the third time this year at a guess, the other two I remember were birthdays (a friends and then my own). It still hasn’t completely won me back. I was worried that it was just me who thought the place was mostly populated by wankers but my girlfriend commented yesterday that she thought that was just the way she saw it because she wasn’t that drunk (whereas I was away on the wings of Jagermeister). I don’t know what it is that’s changed, and can therefore settle that it must be me, it isn’t what I want anymore, it just doesn’t really appeal and getting up early and heading out was like being murdered, I had a head full of broken bottles, I felt like I was falling apart and althought I had a wonderful day it was marred by the fact I couldn’t actually think straight which means as I write this on a Monday morning I feel like I’ve lost my valuable weekend time.

I was out for lunch on Saturday when a friend said to me that as you get older your attitude to going out changes; you go out less often but to nicer places and I for one cannot wait for that stage of things to start, I’m not saying I want to be said in the first class dining room on the Titanic (I’m sorry, I watched Titanic yesterday and I’m going to draw from it whenever I see fit) but the thought of going to places for the enjoyment of company and the substance of the experience feels me with all kinds of joys for my future, I know there are steps before that but quite frankly I’ve had enough of groups of lads with their arms round each others necks chanting Seven Nation Army (especially when it is an abysmal dub-step remix. Savages.

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