The real fact of the matter is, for every story I have of me having a wild night out, I've got another three of me being asked if I'm going out and reacting with a mix of disgust and exhaustion at the thought.
|"We just went out last month..."|
One of the biggest "ah-ha" moments that I've had on my journey to becoming a grown up was the moment that I realized that sometimes being an adult is f#%!ing boring. Not every night is going to be amazing. I don't need to have something planned every night. I don't even really need to be around people every night. Accepting this really did make me appreciate not only the super fun nights but also the super dull nights.
It also was the moment that my transition into Liz Lemon was completed.
So last Friday I decided that I'd be spending the weekend in. With Mankato Pride coming up next week, I needed to save my money, and why not take the time to get some stuff done around my apartment on the long weekend?
Full disclosure, I only decided this after I tried to make plans, but everyone else was already busy.
It was a great weekend. One of the best, really. I left my apartment for a few short work shifts, but that added up to only about 9 hours of me having to wear pants...all weekend. I got a headstart on all of the crap that I'd put on my Netflix queue, and...well I guess that was about all. But, I made like a SUPER big dent in that shit.
On Friday night, after getting myself too worked up by Scandal, I shut my computer and put in my Elizabethtown DVD. I don't know what it is about this movie, but I'm completely willing to admit that I have a problem. I've watched it at least seven times in the last month.
If you haven't seen it, you should check it out, if only for the scene where Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom stay up all night talking on the phone to each other. I've decided it's the most romantic scene in any movie I've ever seen (I'm looking at you, scene where they kiss in the rain in The Notebook). They spend all night on the phone with each other and then decide to meet halfway to watch the sunrise. It's the sweetest thing...in the world.
It's also bullshit. Maybe this shit happened in 2005, but this is 2013. We don't talk on the phone anymore. We text. Texting is just about the least romantic and adorable way to get to try to get to know someone.
I recently started talking to a guy that I saw some real potential with. He messaged me on OK Cupid with a link to a clip from Portlandia and a corresponding message containing three words I had to Google the definition of.
Color me impressed.
After a few days of messaging, we exchanged phone numbers and began texting. For days we were up until all hours of the night (and morning) exchanging witticisms, but I promise you it was not nearly as adorable as Elizabethtown had me expecting. A good 3/4 of time in these conversations was spent waiting for the next message to arrive, and at 4:45 in the morning it can be hard to stay awake. At one point I was literally dozing off with the phone laying on the side of my face so that the vibration would wake me. Not cute.
The other 1/4 of the time was spent trying to convince him that I'm totally not the type of person who abuses emoticons (and failing miserably).
I worked on Saturday but decided upon coming home to have a "Sondheim Saturday Night." I queued up Company and Into the Woods and settled in again. I figured it was about time I gained some sort of working knowledge of Sondheim, you know, beyond what all of us gays know from our Intro to Being a Homosexual Seminar.
There's not really a seminar, but I did take a Musical Theatre class in high school, so...same diff.
I was off all day on Sunday, and the plan was to clean in the morning and then spend the afternoon and evening with Netflix again. I ended up sleeping until 1:30 in the afternoon, so I had to skip the cleaning portion of the day. Obviously.
I did tear myself away from Raising Hope long enough to attempt to do a Pinterest facial mask that afternoon. It seemed simple enough, and the before and after pictures were impressive. It called for you to take two egg whites and mix in a teaspoon of lemon juice. Let it sit for 20 minutes, smear on, and it is supposed to peel right off to reveal a 90% more attractive you.
|It was disgusting.|
Do I even need to get into what I did on the Monday holiday? Worked a short shift and then home to Netflix, Diet Coke, bathroom, and repeat.
So how did this lackadaisical weekend help me to become a better grown up? What did I learn?
I learned that Shonda Rhimes still has the power to make me grow too attached to fictional characters.
I learned that I should quit romanticizing Kirsten Dunst movies.
I learned that Steven Sondheim also has the power to make me grow too attached to fictional characters.
I learned that just because it's on Pinterest, doesn't mean it's really gonna work.
And I learned that I can spend an entire weekend enjoying my own company and not give a f#%!. I don't need to cram my weekends with activity to enjoy them. I don't need to feel bad about not getting anything done for a few days (although getting this validation could spell trouble in the future). Being a bit bored isn't the end of the world, and it's a helluva lot easier on my wallet.
So I guess what I'm taking away from this is I'm awesome, and I get to feel good about being a lazy pile for three days straight.
I love the way my brain works.