I had some time off in the last week of December. Checking my calendar, I realized that I had a lot of social nights scheduled. Moreso than usual for me, even on a day off. So I decided to push it and go out drinking as many consecutive nights as I could.
How’d I do?
Sunday: Dinner and Christmas gifts with Fraley, Melissa, Hawver and Dea. We tried out The Local in Newton – decent plates of tasty food, but I don’t know that they put that much gastro in the gastropub.
Monday: Yelp Elite event at Teatro. After a few drinks to unwind and some catching up with Serpico, Kim and Sarah, I circulated and socialized. I made several new friends out of the evening, got a caricature drawn and took a shiny Yelp lunchbox home. I followed the Elites to the “afterparty” at a bar in the Theater District Alley and got progressively looser, though not ridiculous. I hope.
Tuesday: After jiu-jitsu, I drove into the city to meet Meghan O’ and friends for birthday cocktails at Drink. After kvetching over A Song of Ice and Fire plot developments with the birthday girl, I spent a while chatting up Michelle McN. and Ben S. I only had the one drink, since I was driving several folks home.
Wednesday: Met Rebecca M. for drinks at Flat Top Johnny’s in Kendall Square. We intended to play pool, but ended up shooting the shit for over an hour instead. Ducked into the Blue Room downstairs so we could hear ourselves talk. Good cocktails and good duck ravioli. I ended up at Asgard, like I do, and had maybe one more drink.
Thursday: New Year’s.
Friday: Saw Lisa F. off on one of her last visits to Boston (… sniff). Then I caught the train into Allston and rocked it out at 90s Night at Common Ground.
Six consecutive nights of drinking and staying out late. In an unrelated story, next week I caught a cold.
Here’s the scary part, though: I could see myself living like this.
For years I’ve operated under this assumption that I can’t go out too often, or I’ll get weird and crusty. I base this off of times that I’ve gone to bars or parties, felt out of place, and gone home disappointed. But now I wonder if those nights were nights I should have stayed in, or if it were the result of getting my hopes too high. “This is the party that’s going to make my week!”, I would think. “It’s gonna be off the hook!” And then I’d get there and the party would remain nestled comfortably on its hook, everybody nodding politely and drinking quietly.
But if I set my expectations lower – just get there and have drinks – I do fine.
And even if six nights a week are excessive, it wouldn’t be hard to go out boozing three or four nights a week. Even for someone as antisocial, cranky and stubborn as I am. Facebook, e-mail and text messaging have made gathering a posse – or finding a posse mid-hunt and riding up alongside them – easier than ever. All I’d need to do is give up writing, cut back on jiu-jitsu, and maybe put this directing thing on hold for a bit.
How hard could that be?