Pushing Thirtyy

The Eve

There is one night each year that has somehow become the biggest night to party.  It’s not New Year’s; it’s not the 4th of July; it’s Thanksgiving Eve.  I don’t know how that happened, though I assume it probably has something to do with successful marketing by a coalition of businesses who saw an opportunity to get people to come out midweek with the added bonus that their hangover meal would be the biggest meal they have eaten all year.

So here we are on the eve of the big eve.  I’m getting asked by my friends what we are doing, I’m asking people what they are doing, I’m getting invites to events online.  This has become the norm.  It is expected that, like New Year’s, you will be doing something.  At least, I still expect to do something.  But I have a feeling, when I take a look around this year, that the crowd is going to continue to get younger as I get older.  After all, my earliest memories of Thanksgiving Eve celebrations date back to before I was legally allowed to drink (avid readers of this blog and close friends will recall the infamous Thanksgiving Eve I was brought home by the cops for being in a bar underage).

But I’m still in the stage where I am living life for myself.  As I get older and get more responsibilities, I’m sure this will change.  But I’ve said this before. My husband and I are still out for a good time.  Many newlyweds do start thinking about settling down, and sure it’s on my mind, but I still feel like I can squeeze in a few more good times before my priorities change.

So this year, I still don’t know what I’m doing.  I know what I won’t be doing. I won’t be clubbing the way I used to.  I will dress as appropriately as I can plan to for this night out.  My midsection will not be showing.  I will probably not go to a place that stamps my hand or puts a wristband on me.  I will go somewhere that is easy to get to without driving, making the responsible decision not to rely on one of my friends to be the a designated driver.  I will hopefully go somewhere that has dancing, so that drinking isn’t the main activity, but if not, I’ll go somewhere where I can enjoy a good conversation with my friends.  I will continue to party with my fellow good timers and I am sure that my hangover will likely be worse, even if I’m drinking less than I did when I was younger.  Because that’s what comes with age.  But I’m still going to party for this fake holiday.  It’s a great excuse to have a good time.