If you're looking for me on a Saturday night five years ago, you're likely to find me in a bar with some friends on the dance floor or singing along a cute rock band. I was not exactly a full blown party girl, but I've had my share of the crazies and pains of early twenties. Those were the days when responsibilities were less, time was plenty and I started to earn good money too. I had the energy of a bull and an exaggerated sense of YOLO, which I later realized, was not a good combination. I repeatedly got wasted on tequila and cheap bottles of brandy, and I didn't have to wait for the weekend to get my fix. I was young. Everyday was a weekend. I was fine with daily four-hour sleep that my colleagues nor my boyfriend (sorry, Sweetie! ;p) had no clue of the wreck the night before.
Thankfully, I came out of the quarter life warzone scarred but alive! When I hit 26, the changes were just undeniable. I partied less, I got tired of wearing the once mandatory heels, I was sleepy by midnight and the loud music that used to pump me up started to sound like noise. It's annoying. Then the unthinkable...I lost all interest on alcohol, which to me, was the final straw. I honestly tried to fight it, especially that I retired from the game way earlier than my friends. I vividly remember a night out to celebrate a friend's birthday in a now defunct posh bar. I tried to trick my emotions into wanting it, so I put on my favorite party dress and ankle boots and arrived fashionably late. We had access to the VIP area and alcohol was pouring wildly. Half an hour into the party and I felt like I'm gonna be sick. I excused myself and spent the rest of the night drinking iced coffee in the cafe next door. That night, I bid my youth goodbye.
Nowadays, look for me on a Saturday and your best bets would be (a) my room, (b) the kitchen or (c) in a laid back resto bar where the decibels are regulated. Haha. Last Saturday, I had a bottle of sweet flavored beer while swaying to a really old (like lolo-old) band playing Eric Clapton and Rod Stewart. All the while feeling amused hearing my dear friend P, who just hit 27 and by all means more of a party girl than I ever was, tell me about how she's started to dislike, even dread partying. She ordered a flavored beer too, when I was so sure she's going to ask for a double black. Ha! Welcome to the club, my dear. I assure you, it's not so bad.
I'm inching into the last year of my twenties, and I feel super. I'm confident that I now make better choices and since nursing a hangover is already out of the picture, I have plenty of time to do and discover more productive things than ever before. Like possibly growing my own herb garden. Or enrolling in a formal culinary class. Name it. I'm a grown up, and I wouldn't have it any other way. :)
With my dearest friend, Pipi, after hours of talking about life, career overseas and love over tea lattes. How appropriate. ;)