too old for crazy

I am writing to you from the other side of old age.  I have crossed the line.  At least I am not alone, though... 

Leah and I had our big "girls' night out" last night.  We'd been looking forward to this for weeks - a much-needed evening away from our sometimes boring, always responsible, everyday grown-upness.  So we got all sexified, left the kiddos with the hubs for the evening and headed downtown to raise hell like the classy southern gals we are.  I even googled the number of a taxi company before we left the house, cause we were just gonna get THAT crazy.  I should have realized we were too old for crazy when our first stop was the grocery store, to pick up a five hour energy shot before dinner.  Whoo!  Long story short, we were tapas, one bar and two drinks deep when Leah said out loud what we were both thinking: "This is weird.  I feel like we're on the prowl."  It was true - being out on the town sans kids or husbands felt less like the exciting adventure we thought we so desperately needed, and more like a forced, unnatural field trip from reality.  We're just not crazy young girls anymore.  Nowadays the FMP's and cleavage bras are brought out for birthdays, bachelorette parties and [other people's] weddings, and that's about it. We're grownups, and I guess we're okay with that.  

We did make ourselves stay at the bar until at least 11 pm though, so as not to return home total failures.  But we camped out at a table on the periphery of the scene and spent the whole time deeply engrossed in womanly discussion (okay, shameless gossip) instead of at the bar looking cougarish and desperate.  In the end we went home sober, kissed our sleeping kiddos and spent the rest of our night-out time on the couch with my husband, who was sweet enough not to patronize our Girls Gone Tame experience.  I'm sure he was secretly relieved to have a wife who'd rather be home at night, instead of a wife who stumbled in drunk and disheveled, announcing that she needed to do that more often, and can he please make her a cheeseburger. 

I guess it's not so bad to be old and lame like we are.  It's definitely less destructive - no DUIs, no hangovers, no neglected children eating dry Fruity Pebbles while Mommy lays on the couch groaning til 3:00 in the afternoon - but also, isn't the whole point of the party scene ultimately to get laid at the end of the night?  Shoot, I'm married - why the hell would I waste eyeliner on a big night out (after which my feet ache and I'm too tired and boozy to even be horny) when I can have a glass of wine on my couch with my husband (in yoga pants!), sneak upstairs and bow-chicka-wow-wow, have a snack and still be in bed before 11 pm - for free?!  Sounds like a no-brainer to me.  But then again, I'm old.