Old B*tch in the Club

This is not cute.

A few weeks ago I was watching Chris Rock's movie "I Think I Love My Wife" and there was a part when ole girl was talking about why she was deciding to settle down, and one phrase she said has been haunting me ever since:

"I'm 32 years old...... I'm the old bitch in the club."

That statement right there reached right out of the TV and punched me in my face.  It's not that this was some deep revelation that I'd never thought about before.  No, quite the contrary.  I'd been thinking about this A LOT when I've been out at the club, feeling all sorts of annoyance at the songs people were getting hype to, irritation at the ridiculousness of the attire (while at the same time feeling self conscious at my own neo-hippie attire), and frustration the next day (and the day after and the day after) at my sore joints and inability to shake a hangover like I used to.  No, ole girl didn't tell me something I didn't know; she told me something I already knew quite well but was trying my best to ignore.

When I was younger I always said I never wanted to be that old bitch in the club.  The chick that just thinks she's out there killin' the game, when the game she's trying to kill actually passed away 5 years ago.  There's a sort of a sad, pathetic air to her that makes you vow to never be her in 10 years, and instead be someone's kept wife and soccer mom to 2.5 kids and NOT have your ass still in the club.  She and her crew may try to justify their existence by labeling themselves as cougars, when in reality they are just some old chicks that need to go somewhere and saddown.

In a few days I turn 32. I was cool with 30, even cool with 31, but there's something about 32 that's not sitting too nicely with me.  I feel like I ought to be progressing forward through the stages of life, not trying to convince myself that I still belong in a prior stage.  No, I am not saying I am old.  32 is NOT old.  But it is starting to be too old to carry on like I did at 23 every single weekend, out in the club, feet hurting, listening to bad music, trying to be seen, and that being a main focus in life.  I ought to be focusing on building a life for myself, progressing in my career, making lasting relationships with family and friends that will be around long after the party is over.  It's not so much 32 itself that's bothering me, but this mounting pressure to "prove" I'm not old by pushing myself past my ever shrinking limits.  It seems like giving up on (or at least backing down from) those things is seen as defeat, as if life is over and you might as well spend your free time digging your own grave with a teaspoon.

I think I just want to be ok with the fact that I don't want to hang out every single Friday and Saturday night, plus be out all during the week as well.  I want to be ok with getting a movie from the Redbox, an Amy's organic cheese pizza and a bottle of wine and sitting on my couch on a Friday night instead of trying to figure out where the party is.  It's not so much that I am getting old, it's that the club scene is getting old.  The novelty has worn off..... I know all the DJ's mixes, I have a man so I don't need to be validated by men trying to talk to me, I'm past the age where I give a damn about "being seen" or showing off the latest fashions so I can get the approval of other females, and I can make the same stronger drinks at home for a fraction of the price, AND I won't wake up the next morning feeling like crap from the killer hangover and Taco Bell I picked up on the way home.  My body could handle whatever abuse I threw at it five years ago; now, I pay a much steeper price for what are becoming diminishing rewards.

Instead of going to the club, I want to do things that create more meaningful and lasting relationships with people.  When you're young, it's about being seen, having fun, impressing others.  Now, in my 30s, it's about making lasting lifelong connections.  I recently went to my beau's mother's 60th birthday party and was just so amazed at how many people she had in her life that cared about her that came to her celebration.  Later I was talking to her about that and she said most of those people came into her life in the past 20 years after her husband passed away, all from the organizations she belonged to and the activities she did and the help and support people gave her helping to raise her 5 kids.  That made me feel a little better because I was starting to worry that I would end up alone and friendless, as I have been going out less and thus spending less time with friends with whom all we really have in common is going out.  I'm relieved that I still have time to build a meaningful life surrounded by people who truly care about me.

Am I saying I'm done with going out?  No, not at all.  I still like to dress up, dance, socialize and engage in tomfoolery every once in awhile (and still more often than your average homebody).  And I still turn plenty of heads when I do go to the club.  But I want to start having fun my way, not try to replicate what I did at 22, or even 27 (I had a lot of fun at 27).  The same club every single weekend is just no longer my thing. I want to go to more events like festivals, picnics, performances, shows, and trips, activities where I can really connect with people instead of shouting over blaring music and scantily clad drunk girls.  I don't think being 32 in the club in and of itself is a bad thing.  It's trying to live life like I'm not 32 that is.