I can’t wait until I’m old, so no one asks me to do anything. I’m 25 going on 85. Not that I don’t enjoy a nice dinner and a glass of wine, or a night at the theater. And believe me, I can dance my bootie off with the best of them at clubs until 4AM. But I actually hate staying up late, being drunk, and hangovers. I had enough of that at Penn State and during my first two years in NYC. I’m kind of over it now, but I can’t escape it.
December is always busy. There are lots of work parties since I’m in media, and in general a lot going on every weekend. This pains me, because I’d prefer to stay in and watch the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family and go to bed at ten. I know I have to try to keep up appearances, and it’s even harder having a live in boyfriend. Even if we stay home I don’t feel like a giant loser because I’m not home alone with a bunch of cats (not that I have cats.)
This past weekend I went out hard core. Friday I went to a benefit work party, then met up with friends. I probably had about four drinks total. It was fine except I didn’t get home until 2AM. I missed my 9AM yoga class on Saturday so that made me cranky. I wasn’t hungover, but the last thing I wanted to do was go out again. But alas, we headed to Atlantic City for a birthday party. Everyone kept saying, “Sorry, Ellyn, I know you hate clubs! Are you having fun?” And in fact, I did have fun at Dusk, a club in Ceasar’s. I enjoyed my two $12 Ketel sodas, despite the slores dancing on poles and the scummy Jersey dudes grinding all up on each other. The DJ was awesome, and I figured out that it was better to dance on the stage, so I wasn’t in the mass of sweaty humans. Then I left and lost $10 on a slot, and ended the night with some breakfast at 4AM. In the elevator a scary man said, “Just give me everything.” But we were too tired to care, so we just casually stepped off the elevator before said man pulled his inevitable gun.
It was a good time, but I’m really worried about catching up on real sleep now as I sip on a hot cup of tea in my fuzzy robe. I figure I’m about fourteen hours behind, since sleeping after drinking or eating isn’t good for the body and it really can’t repair itself. Except I can’t catch up, because I have holiday parties two nights this week, which will likely put me behind even more and then I’m going to a wedding on Saturday. What’s a geriatric socialite to do?