Oh how things have changed
There was a time, many years ago, when the young ones would beg to accompany the hubby and I when we went out. Of course the answer was always no. But they kept trying, no doubt hoping that one day the answer would change. Well, life has a way of coming full circle and these days, more often than not, the hubby and I are the ones sitting at home as they go off to meet their friends.
Usually it is the older two taking off, leaving our youngest to hang out with her folks. But a few weekends ago, each one of them had plans. As I watched the girls getting ready to leave the house, the older one must have seen the forlorn look on my face because she asked, “Do you want to come?” I laughed out loud, remembering the days they begged to tag along. But I also laughed at the thought of accompanying her and her friends on a night out.
For one thing, I think I’d have come home with an ache in my neck from craning it every which way to get a better look at the outfits youths wear these days in the name of clothes. Even when we’re out shopping and I badly want to do a double-take because someone has walked past wearing ripped jeans, the girls will tell me to take a deep breath and keep walking. By the way, I hear they’re called ‘distressed jeans’ and they’re a very ‘hot’ fashion item, but I think I would need to go back to school to understand why a right-thinking individual would walk into a shop, voluntarily pick torn clothing and leave good money behind. And apparently the more torn, the better. PS: I have seen these offensive items in my house! And while I have been very vocal about them, I think the hubby has simply been shocked into silence.
Speaking of fashion, if I were to accompany our young ones on a night out, I would probably embarrass them with my choice of clothes. For me, nights out are about making sure I’m warmly dressed. Even in my youth, I was never one of those ‘freeze-and-shine’ chicks. The fights I have with the three about dressing ‘properly’ when they’re going out are epic and usually end with grudging compromise on both sides, although I suspect they toss my recommended garments aside as soon as they’re out of sight. They would properly seat me – in my jeans, socks, boots, sweater, jacket and scarf/shawl – in a corner table far away and assign a waiter to make sure I’m fine.
Pulling an all-nighter
Secondly, if I did take up the offer to go with them, I think I would be ready to go home by 11pm – before the party has even warmed up! I can just imagine itching to call it a night and wondering why on earth I left my house in the first place. It’s a little hard to believe now that there was a time when my university friends and I could pull off all-nighters in the club – two nights in a row! And we would somehow still manage to make it through a whole week of lectures before repeating the dance marathons the following weekend.
And while we’re talking about dancing, I absolutely do not understand (or even like) the ‘music’ they listen to, and surely one must dance if one has taken the trouble to go clubbing, no? Problem is my moves are o-o-o-o-old, and the young ones are yet to teach me how to dab or do the ‘shoki’, or the ‘odi’… So I would definitely end up making them wish they never opened their mouths to invite me.
Yep, as exciting as those days were once upon a time, they are truly behind me, relegated to the archives labelled ‘I tried it and I’m so over it.’ So I bid them all goodbye that night before settling into my favourite seat to watch my favourite shows on TV before heading to bed, very glad that I wasn’t the one out there in the cold.