This weekend was a bit of a step back in time for the Anonymous Husband and I as we attended not only the wedding events of an old buddy of his, but re-visited some of our past - our bar hopping, trendy past, more specifically.
Once upon a time I considered myself a superficiality specialist in this area, keeping abreast (yes, I'm a 12-year-old boy, and typing "abreast" does make me giggle) of whatever the latest restaurant or bar was at which I needed to be seen. Naturally this was occurring in my twentysomething years when I should have been studying Torts or similar, but . . . um, at least I was specializing in something?
|The AH & yours truly in pre-game mode, with apologies for the Instagram repeat photo. Also, it was ninety degrees in Austin this weekend - IN MARCH, mind you - hence the summery getups.|
Like any new parent, I'm now less trendy and more "Thomas the Tank Engine" - happily so. That being said, the weekend was perhaps the first PK ("post kid" for any newbies here) time I can recall getting dolled up and heading with great, superficial purpose to where the music would be too loud, the drinks too expensive, and the people watching rife with potential (see-through cutout lace dresses circa "Like a Virgin", for splendid example.)
I loved it. Specifically, I loved getting a peek on my twentysomething life with the privileges of a thirtysomething Smug Married. I can now invisibly float through the bar crowds of the Too Chic if I choose, as I'm no longer in my unwrinkled, Prettier prime. I'm also no longer in need of unearthing cute boys or proving I'm more . . . ??? what was I concerned about back then? . . . than anyone else, or anything at all beyond the picket fenced reality I have now.
Nights out no longer hold that beacon of possibility, the thrill of the unknown - who will I meet? Will my so-called friends force me to dance? I have successfully unearthed the cute boy, and only the most indulgent of bouncers still ask me to do the show-your-ID-dance. I'm not competing for the Prettiest in the room anymore, but oh, is it ever fun to watch the ones still in the vanity hunt.
I beg you young Pretties out there - please be kind to us old folk occasionally showing up in your too trendy haunts. We aren't trying to pretend we're one of you - in fact, most days you couldn't pay us enough. It's just good to look back and remember, to be grateful for the then and the now. A $12 martini - when did it become $12??? - seems like a small price to pay for perspective.