After many internal vigorous debates and a great deal of consideration, I decided to go out Memorial Day weekend.  I knew that I would be jumping into a shit storm of crazy since it was a holiday weekend, but I decided to jump right in.

Following a great dinner, my friends and I decided to hit the bars.  Shockingly, when we arrived there wasn’t much fanfare outside to get in and I breathed a sigh of relief that this was, in fact, a true grown-up night out.  Until I walked inside and saw the madness of wall-to-wall people clamoring to get the bar.

Luckily, we were immediately tipped off to a smaller room in the back.  Seconds later,  we made our way through the crowded dance floor and into a smaller room complete with it’s own bar, DJ, and my personal favorite–a large couch–where I very quickly parked myself.

Our secret garden didn’t stay a secret for very long.  Within forty-five minutes, people filed into our little oasis. I was momentarily disappointed that it would no longer be our own private party, until a friend reminded me that this was the reason we left the house in the first place.

Thankfully, another friend returned from the bar with a round of drinks.  It was at that time I finally made eye contact with these young men and women who were sashaying their way in. OH MY GOD. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me and then it hit me–I was one of the older people in the room.  I was now “the guy who sat at on the couch at nightclubs ogling.” The same guy that when I was twenty-six, I commented to friends that I hoped I would never be at a club when I was his age.

I sucked my drink down.

“Is everyone here under thirty?” I asked a friend sitting next to me.

“Well, you’re not,” he said as he stood up to talk to one of them.

“Good work, Detective,” I said and continued staring at the cavalcade of people piling in.

When I left for the night, the thought hadn’t actually occurred to me that I would have to be surrounded by an overwhelming number of twenty-somethings. I’ll be honest. My twenties were amazing. And also amazingly stupid. I stayed out until insane hours, I drank entirely too much, and had lots of sex–most of it was on purpose, but some of it was definitely accidental.

However, at thirty-five I can say with confidence that I’ve learned the lessons from my twenties. With the exception, that I still drink entirely too much.

I initially was incredibly nostalgic.  I took another sip of my drink and watched them as they shuffled their way to the bar with purpose.  I nodded knowingly as they stood and posed.  I swayed back and forth on the couch as they danced in front of me.  I grimaced when they sloppily made out with strangers.  It was my New York nightlife experience all over again except without waking up with a horrible hangover in a studio apartment.

My friend returned and sat down next to me.  ”God, don’t you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“The fun! The excitement of being 25 again–when you stay out all night!” he said. “Come on, don’t you wish you were that age again? Even just for a night!”

“First of all, calm down.  You’re speaking in exclamation points and you’re embarrassing yourself.  Secondly, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning and we’re both out,” I said.  ”And to answer your question, no, I really don’t miss it at all.”

“Ok, you’re not making any sense. Either you’ve already popped an Ambien so that you’re literally asleep within seconds of walking through your front door or you’re completely full of shit,” he said.

“My money is on full of shit,” another friend chirped in out of nowhere.

I stood up from the couch and looked at the bumping, grinding, posing group before me tearing it up on the dance floor.  Maybe, I was full of shit.  Maybe, I was fooling myself.  Then I felt an elbow press against my stomach and I watched an impeccably dressed young woman put her hand over her mouth pushing her way through the crowd and make a mad dash for the bathroom.  Or maybe, I was right.

I leaned into my friend and said, “I watch these people with the same curiosity as the skateboarding dog on YouTube. It’s cute and fun to look at for the first thirty seconds, and then I’m bored.”

He smiled and shook his head and I started to walk out before I turned to him and said, ”Oh, and thanks for the Ambien idea.  I’ll remember that next time.”