On the eve of my birthday, I decided to go clubbing with my housemates. I can't even remember the last time I was in that club. When I was in my early twenty's, I would frequent clubs, getting myself seen, wasted and laid. One night would not be enough, I'd go to one club on a Friday and a different one on a Saturday. During that time, I adored loud pulsating beats of house music. My eyes would beg to see flashes and flickers of beams and lasers. And I take pride on snatching the nights prized catch.
But last night that place was so alien to me. I hardly go to clubs now. My ears are about to explode because of the hard pounding beats. The laser show was giving a migraine. A few drinks made me want to throw up. I had to call it a night rather early because I was so tired.
The clubbing scene and I had our falling apart when I witnessed how it messed up the lives of my ex as well as some of my friends. I started to think that that lifestyle was a lifestyle of pretensions. It's troublesome, expensive and harbors drug addiction. As much as possible I tried to stay away from it. The charm of seeing people all dolled up and the prospect of meeting possible mates still get the best of me so I still go to clubs every once in a while.
But it wasn't like before. Moreso when I realized that the digits are starting to sink in, I know I had to give it to the younger generation. It's time to act my age. I'd much rather stay home and enjoy a cup of coffee. Enjoy a good laugh with people who's approval matter to me.
