taking stock of my actions (aka a follow up to last night)

Today has been somewhat interesting, as I recap and assess my actions last night and post-Wally feelings.

The night was pretty good, despite a few tense moments waiting for people to turn up at the last minute. But, they did arrive, we boarded the boat and explored the fabulous red and white festivities that adorned the windows.

Being a uni event, drinks were cheap, so naturally the bar was quite packed initially. We had 4 hours to get the most out of $3 drinks, before docking and the afterparty started. Plus, you know, it was cold outside and alcohol was yummy and made us not care so much.

The boat itself had two decks, an upper and lower one. The lower deck housed the bar, a dancefloor and an area full of super comfortable couches, which were perfect for chatting and actually hearing what people said. The dancefloor, like any other, made hearing difficult, since the music was blaring quite loudly (an equal blend of music to my taste and unpleasant sounds for my ears).

Upstairs, was a red and white themed lolly buffet, with candy in every form  – chocolate hearts, red licorice, red frogs, musk, milk bottles and even sherbert. For the savoury, and much larger appetite, the occasional platter of pizza magically appeared on some of the tables. There was also a second dancefloor, with a second DJ. This one served as the more popular dance area, probably due to playing more Top 40 tunes than the one below.

People dressed to the theme in varying degrees, but it was spectacular to see that most people abided by the more striking aspects of the Wally costumes. Red and white striped shirts were abundant, but there was also the occasional yellow and black combination to represent Odlaw. Of course, I was one of the more comprehensively costumed ones, but then I was excited about this for weeks.

I spent the night drinking and dancing mostly, and it was decent fun. Of course, it was nothing spectacular, but it has been a while since I unwound and let loose on the dance floor like that. Especially when some of my favourite songs were playing.

I suppose that I re-realised (yes, I had had this epiphany before but not acted on it) that my measures of a good night were flawed, a lot of them being based around how much attention I get from other people. Last night I got enough for a ‘successful’ night by those standards, but I hate judging my nights on that. It’s the issue I’m starting to have with clubbing – other than drinking, dancing and temporary physical comforts, there is no point in it really. The high from the alcohol and dancing wears off, and all you’re left with are blurry memories of bright lights, loud music and the dullness of repetitive movement. At least, that’s how I’m beginning to view it. So, throw in a guy, and the formula goes from being the same pattern, to maybe having a little interruption to its flow.

But that is not how I want to feel.

Maybe I’m getting past the age where clubbing is great (I loved it for the first couple of years after my 18th, back when it was all new and exciting). I don’t understand how people can continue the lifestyle well into their 30s. Don’t they grow tired of it, as I have?

That’s probably why, despite my initial intentions, I was so amenable to opting out of the after party. Besides, doing a Maccas run in the city was quite pleasant (and satisfying), despite the pain in my feet. Then we managed to barely make the last train home (well, I missed mine but luckily I have lovely friends who don’t mind my presence in their house overnight), before falling into a much-needed slumber.

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