When I was all graduated from high school, I decided to loosen up a little. And by a little, I mean I went all-out party animal for 4 years. I thought I deserved it. I had been a good teenager, got good grades never got into trouble. So I started drinking (every other night), smoking up (all the time), experimenting with drugs (only on weekends) and sleeping around.
This was all a lot of fun, and I have no regrets about the decisions I made. I think of them as life lessons in the art of letting go. That being said, the phase did not last long. The truth is it is exhausting spending that much energy on having fun. And it was toxic, bad for the body and soul (and short-term memory). But none of my friends were at that stage yet. Without really realizing what it would mean for my partying, I made the decision to move to another city where I had no friends and, more importantly, no hook-ups.
That was over four years ago, and I never really regretted moving on from that part of my life. It's nice to come home to an empty apartment, do nothing but read and watch youTube videos. I like going to bed at 10 pm. I like that my idea of a fun night out is getting together my girl friends and grabbing a bite or maybe seeing a movie. Every now and again, I'll imbibe in a bottle of wine. It's calm and steady and perfect for me.
I'd hoped all of my old friends would reach adulthood some day. And one of them has finally decided to make that step. He made a choice to move up here and try to get his life on track. And I, with my compulsive need to help every one, happily and enthusiastically opened my doors to him.
This was less than two weeks ago, an I am wondering if it was not the dumbest decision I have made all year (including sleeping with "D" on and off for about 10 months after we'd split, and professing my feelings to a dear friend and being shot down twice).
Ugh, fuck it. Long story short: I am drinking a Solo Cup of cheap white wine by myself.