Oldie Heart

This kind of picks up where the last post ends. I feel like an old person at heart.

I am turning into one of those people, those grumpy people, who look at kids playing in water and scowl when they splash water on me, how rude!

But I don’t go out to party, I prefer drinking in my apartment, a nice sweet wine.

I never had a heavy party phase, I’ve had little blips of mistakes and what not, but they’re pretty small. I never had moments where I did stupid reckless things, except maybe letting my ex drive me in his car (which was entirely stupid might I add), but it’s not like I drove super fast or played chicken in my car (being as I never had my own car). I am nor scorning that lifestyle at all.

I feel if you are being careful with yourself and others, then you do you. I actually have a bit of respect for people who go out till 5 am or dance until they can’t walk anymore, precisely because I can’t do it. I like my couch. I’m a bit of homebody. I like watching movies here. I like making food here. I like…here.

Also Munich is damn expensive. Like it’s pretty crazy.

But some people speak about that time of their life almost like it’s a rite of passage, it’s never the people who are my close friends who know me, but it’s those I run into at parties (when I go). I’m one of those people who, once my makeup is off and my pajamas are on, I am not moving my butt off that couch or outside, unless for groceries.

I don’t have many crazy stories about the things I’ve done. And the ones that are most memorable I have no recollection of.

For a while I felt like there was a part of myself that was missing. The young spirit. The ‘wild’ years where I could have those photos and stories and I could contribute when people measured up their drunk stories.

I felt like I needed to compensate. So when I had the opportunity I tried to play with the big boys and fell flat on my face.

So it’s taken me a lot to be okay with not doing that. To be okay with people scoffing at me when I tell them I won’t and want to go home and sleep, to be okay with people calling me a party pooper. To have to ignore the social stigma or that look when people look at me asking for my story and I just smile.

Because I’ve kind of accepted that it’s just not who I am. Plus I couldn’t even pull off one of those getting to sleep at 5 and waking up later being fine. I can’t do that. That would borderline kill me and make me a monster to deal with. I would be a grumpy sea monster.

I am a total oldie at heart. I don’t mean oldie like a bad thing, so let me rephrase.

A total comfort-homebody-coco-person. I’m about comfort, sleep, and card games (without alcohol).

And that’s beginning to be okay with me.