I nearly bailed on going out last night.
Actually, I did bail. I texted the babysitter and said I wasn’t feeling well.
I haven’t been ‘out out’ for months! So many months, I can’t even remember the last time. It might even be more than a year ago.
My husband, James’ band was playing at a local club last night and the band wives were going along as we don’t often get to see them play. Even without booze, I imagined it would be a good night but I couldn’t get my head around the inconvenience of it.
My stepdad calls me a ‘socially competent introvert’. I know how to fake extroversion – but I suspect the booze was doing a good amount of the heavy lifting in that area. Lately though, I’ve become more of a hermit than an introvert – I spend all my free time alone and love it. I love writing, working on my website, recording my podcast and all the other creative things I get to do when I have the house to myself.
I wouldn’t want to be permanently alone but, given the choice between time alone and time with loads of people, I’d choose alone time every time.
Then again, the last few days have been a bit heavy and intense so perhaps a night out would be a good way to interrupt that pattern and break my routines.
So I called the babysitter (my stepson).
“I’m really sorry. I was just getting anxious about going out. Sorry I messed you around. Is it still possible to come over?”
And out out I went!
I only stayed for about an hour but I did it and, to be completely honest, it wasn’t that different from nights when I was drinking. As I stood there with everyone screeching and laughing around me, I realised I have always felt a little disconnected from the action in those situations. The booze did nothing to change that – certainly not in the early part of the evening anyway.
Although I felt no pull to drink, I accepted the fact that noisy places where everyone has to shout to be heard are not my favourite places to spend time. So at 10.45pm, I drove home.
I drove home! I felt pretty good about that!
I was in bed with a cup of sleepy tea and a book by 11.15pm and when my son, Max, came bounding in at 6.15am, I got up feeling clear-headed to spend the morning with him.