A few weeks ago on the Saturday night of the Blissdom Canada conference I found myself sitting atop a large queen sized bed in my pajamas, drinking wine and eating pizza chatting with a couple of gal pals. Basically, I was in my happy place.
My happy place seems to involve a lot of yoga gear and small groups of people. I feel overwhelmed in large groups, yet also guilty because I didn’t get a chance to speak with everyone in the room, or worse, I didn’t remember someone’s name or that we met before.
Admittedly, my social life is not the thriving, spur-of-the-moment, let’s go out and dance, sleep until 2:00pm the next day it once was. I no longer go to clubs—loud music hurts my ears—and I need the help of a fairy godmother if I’m going to stay up until midnight.
Mostly my social life revolves around neighbourhood potluck dinner parties, the occasional girl’s night out that has me home and in bed by 11:00pm, lunch dates, or having friends over for appetizers. When I do go out for dinner, it’s usually with my family at a restaurant that hands out crayons before they seat you. We arrive early because late dinners leave me feeling light-headed.
It left me wondering…how did this evolution of my social demise—a demise that happened so slowly I didn’t even realize it was happening—happen?
How did I become the oldest young person alive?
I pondered my senior citizen-type social life over the course of a few days. And you know what? I’m okay with it. I’m okay hanging out at home with my girlfriends or spending the evening reading the occasional thought provoking book. I’m okay that my Saturday night is spent splayed out on the couch with my husband watching a documentary. I’m okay not having fancy restaurants, dressing up, and nights at a club in my life.
Sure, there are days when I miss having a full social calendar, one that didn't involve strategic planning and interviewing babysitters. And on the odd occasion when I do get out for an evening that goes past 9:00pm, I have a fabulous time…until I have to get up the next morning to face the kids.
Which is why I’m okay with it. I am a small group, pizza on the bed, yoga pants type of gal.
And I’d write more but it’s 4:30 p.m. and I need to eat dinner.
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