I went out tonight to celebrate with a friend her 30th birthday. We were quite close once, but over the last 2 years we've grown apart. It's not either of our fault, it's just life.
The party started at 8 at a bar. I knew I couldn't stay long, we have church in the morning, and I was informed that I would be having my picture taken tomorrow, so I don't want to look all hungover and sick, and Peanut and I missed church last week, he was up several times saturday night, no one really got any rest last saturday. So I told myself I'd leave around 10, 10:30.
So I left Peanut with MSJ, and went to the bar. No one, other than me, the birthday girl and the party planner, showed up until 8:30, and 2 or 3 didn't show up until a little after 9. In an effort to blend in I had a wine spritzer, light on the wine. At the first bar. At the second bar I had water. Then someone brought shots for the table. So we all had a shot. Well, I had a sip of my shot and then passed the rest onto the birthday girl. I looked at my phone, it was 10:30, so I told one of my other friends, who looked shocked and amazed that I was leaving that early, went to birthday girl and gave her a hug and apologized that I had to leave so early, when it was quite clear that the party was just getting started, because as I left, there was another round of shots being brought to the table. I got the feeling that there would be some discussion after I left about the fact that I left. Birthday girl was totally ok with it, we hugged and said what we always say, that we need to get together more often. Which is true, but we've been saying that for more than a year now.
Part of me really wanted to stay and drink and act single and have a good time. Another part of me was glad it was 10:30 and I could go home. As I sit here writing this I'm at odds in my brain. I really WANTED to want to stay and be a party girl. But I began to realize that I missed my husband, I didn't get to kiss my son goodnight, and I had to be up in the morning (I'm sort of opposite of others right now. we're busy on weekends, but I can sleep in a little on Monday morning).
For the first time since I've been married, I realized that I did give up something to be a Pastor's Wife. I don't have the freedom to go out saturday night and get hammered, then skip church because I'm too hungover to walk right. It's true that by the time we were married I had pretty much given that up anyway, but I guess it was still an option then. I guess it still is an option, but it's not one my husband would be happy with. And not one I would be happy with. It's a nice idea, and it sounds like fun, but hangovers hurt a lot more than they used to, and the smoke makes my sinus's close up, and the loud music makes my head hurt. Damn, I sound old there.
As a side note, one of the guys I knew from the last job, and he was always nice enough, but tonight the only thing he said to me was something snide about my Pastor husband, which was not only rather uncalled for, but also pretty rude. And the fact that I felt the need to defend my husband and family to some d-bag didn't make me feel any more inclined to stay out late.
Normally I have good endings to my posts. I guess I'm out of practice, because I don't have any more thoughts on either of those topics.