Fun on a Friday night

It’s Friday night and the weekend starts here!

Well I guess it does if you work in a nine to five job, which I haven’t since 1999. 

Social conditioning dictates that I should be out on the town tonight, having “fun” but instead I am sitting on the sofa, central heating on on a cold and windy October night watching the new series of Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror, doing a bit of drawing and knitting a hat with the pattern of the carpet from the shining on it. Hell, I may even make a Pom Pom for it if I feel especially reckless. 

 I gave up on the Friday night thing when I was 21 years old when I realised that it always turned into a let down. It’s all built on lies and expectations and the marketing campaigns of a billion pound drink industry and the constant unfulfilled promise that that night  will be the best night of your life. The reality is actually this. It will be kind of ok. If it seems more than ok it’s most likely because drink and drugs will be telling you so. Who knows, maybe there will be some chance at romance but if you are judging your future partner in a poorly  lit room with blaring music and no chance of a decent conversation then good luck! Little bit of secret knowledge here, if you meet anyone in a pub or club situation, they a. probably have a drink problem and b. probably don’t have a life. Yet people still do it, marauding about in packs with their chums, trying to have the most fantastic of Friday nights. 

The problem is, people do this sort of stuff for so long that they don’t even know why they do it anymore, lost souls going through the motions just because.

Unless you are into some religion where reincarnation is one of the beliefs, this is your one and only life and if you are jumping up and down to a terrible PA system or listening to a identikit conversation about the hilarious thing that someone did at the office when they were last drunk then maybe you should consider doing an evening class or reading a book maybe. Dinner parties are awful too and parties…. Well, just forget it.

It’s that reality gap again, no one will ever tell you your party was shit to your face, and because everyone will get so pissed that they won’t remember anyway, it will be rewritten like all of them as such a wonderful time. It won’t be, they never are. Drunk People will think four people in a room while the fifth flicks the light switch up and down is the best night ever at Studio 54, the limelight, blitz, ministry of sound, fabric, the hacienda etc but it won’t be, it will just be shit. Incidentally, a mate of mine was always down the Roxy, Heaven and Blizt, guess what? They were shit too! 

The truth is, if someone is interesting, they will be interesting while sitting waiting in the launderette. If they are dull, they will be dull behind the velvet rope in the viper rooms. The rest is all froth and a pain in the arse journey home navigating past drunk people.

Well, anyway, that ate into an hour of my knitting time, I’d better get back to my knitting as I’m missing out on the fun. 


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