I like going out. Some folk think I don’t. To me going out can be many things; a trip to the cinema, a meal in a cheap restaurant, a long walk, a drive to the bagel shop, alcohol in pubs, dancing in clubs, window shopping, coffee shop and newspapers, gallery and green tea, blah blah blah.
I’m very ‘low key’ when I go out. Not for me the 6 hour drinking marathon. Or the crawl around 5 homo establishments in the same street. Go out, meet friends or soak up new venue/one-nighter, get drunk (or not, some nights), come home. Takes about 3 hours. 4 if someone’s making me laugh. There really is no need to be out any longer.
I’m very uncomfortable and restless around drunks and find it very hard to join a group of friends who have been drinking for several hours prior to my arrival. Bad things have happened to me in the past and alcohol was nearly always involved therefore my opinion of the stuff is corrupted. But I do like a drink. I love to get to that ‘merry’ stage when everything feels cheery and familiar and nice. And I’m good at lingering around that stage of conviviality but only if everyone else does too. If the rest of the gathering move onto that final stage of ‘getting drunk’ then I make my excuses and scarper. Sometimes they don’t even know I’ve gone. Consequently I now have a (undeserved) reputation as a sourpuss and a grouch. Which, in my opinion, is better than having a reputation as a critical and vicious dipsomaniac. Your round.