I guess this is a weird realisation to have when you’re a quarter of century, but whatever – everyone has its own rhythm and pace.
Until very recently, I would wonder things such as “What is wrong with me? What can’t I seem to have fun like they do? They all think I am boring and a party pooper…”. The reason why something would be wrong would always be within me, and not external factors/other people. These thoughts would come back to haunt me every time there was a (wilder) party and I seemed to be the only who was not a) completely drunk of her ass and b) not being loud and obnoxious.
At a fairly recent party – in which I’ve seen and heard some of the most deplorable attitudes ever in my life – I decided the problem was not me. Actually, there is no problem at all. I just have a different idea of fun – and that is OK.
I like house parties. I like hanging out in pubs with my friends and have conversations that last hours. I love dinner parties. I love day trips to places I haven’t been yet.
What I don’t like is to get so drunk that I forget myself and do stuff that I would regret come sunrise. I don’t like to kick trash cans and the like just because I’m drunk and I can, and to be rude to other people just because I think I am better than them. I don’t like clubs with music so loud that it will damage your eardrums. I don’t like being loud just because I had more drinks than I can remember. I don’t like hooking up with anyone and everyone without thinking about the consequences.
My idea of fun is a different one. And I’m fine with that. Other people will have theirs, and I’ll have mine. And we’ll still be nice to each other the day after.
I’ll never blame myself or apologise again for being “different”, though. Even because I am not – i am sure there are people out there who share my point of view. And, as soon as I made that decision, I felt way lighter. As I should.