In college, I was friends with my now-husband. I was almost 21 – living it up in our awesome college beach town the summer before my senior year. He was 25 – hard at work in his first full time job. Since we hung in the same circle, I’d often give him and the other in-full-time-job-friends crap for not going out with us during the week. “We are headed to the beach bars tonight – you guys should come!” And of course, sometimes we’d talk him and others into hitting the town for the night… despite their 8am wake up call. My argument was always, “When I’m 25, I’m still going to be going out during the week! You guys can hang!”
Fastforward to me being 25. I had my first full-time job. I still enjoyed the occasional Happy Hour, but it was usually a once every week or two event with my co-workers and usually not for more than an hour or two – right after work – so I was home by 8 – there was no way I was hanging until 12 at night or later. Back then, I wasn’t married and no kids. I had several co-workers who had kids and would always invite them – “Come on out with us, we’re just having a beer or two!” And occasionally they’d oblige and come hang with the rest of the no-kids crowd. But mostly, they went home and did their thing. I always thought, “When I have kids, I’ll still have time for the occasional Happy Hour!”
Now I have kids and a husband. And I never go to Happy Hour. And I’m more than 100% ok with it. I don’t feel like I’m missing out. In fact, if I have something else to do in the evenings, I often feel like I’m missing out when I’m not at home. I don’t want to go out during the week. And even on the weekends, it has to be really good for me to RSVP yes. There are just too many great things happening in the “Happy Hour” in my own living room.
I guess I’m just not a Happy Hour girl anymore. And I know 3 boys who are perfectly ok with that.