Young guys party like this....but old guys party like....

You can tell you're getting older by the parties you go to.

Lady Hem and I went to a friend's 40th, last Sunday. Once upon a time, a party would've meant alcohol; drugs; more alcohol; a little more drugs because you don't want to spoil the taste of the alcohol; then illegally driving to some dingy club to laugh at the over 40 divorcees trying to pick up your much younger friends. You'd wake up the next day next to a pile of vomit and your tongue would feel like you've spent the night licking the road.

Good times, good times.

Now, a party means a two hour drive to an out of the way winery; some ok - if not great - food; a couple of beers and polite conversation. You then drive two hours home in the rain to feed the dogs, watch some TV and go to bed. You mightn't wake up next to a pile of vomit but your tongue still feels like it's spent the night licking the road, then kicked you awake to make sure you can taste it.

Still: good times. It's great getting old. No, really. It sounds like I'm complaining but, in actuality, I'll take this sort of party over my younger days.

I just don't have the stamina anymore.

Friends

I'm pretty lazy with my friends. Or, should I say, our friends because - in truth - I don't have any friends of my own. I think I've written about this before. Anyway, the friends that I call 'my friends' I'm pretty lazy with. I tend to wait for them to call me, or wait until I bump into them somewhere before we 'hang out.' And by hang out, I mean have a coffee and spend ten minutes talking before I have to be somewhere else.

Sometimes - and not just sometimes - I can be a real cunt.

The point of all this is, that I've just read Beardie's post about telling your friends how you feel about them and it's brought a few things up.

My friend Donna got married a couple of weeks ago.

You might remember Donna from a post on the deleted blog. If not, she was someone I thought I might be in love with, who turned out to be a friend. Then something, and I still not sure what, happened and we stopped being friends. Sort of. I've seen her a few times here and there and we still talk and say we'll catch up, but it never happens. I'm lazy, she has a kid, I'm now working full time and, with my weekends, I really just want to hang out with Lady Hem. I know it's bad and I know it's my fault but, I just can't help it. I don't want to make the effort and, as a result, I lose friends. Yes, in an ideal world, communication would be a two way street but, in the real world, we all know that doesn't happen. Someone HAS to make the moves. You all have someone that you know you have to call, or see if you're ever going to see them and, when you do you have a great time but every time you go to pick up the phone you think, 'why the fuck do I always have to be the one?' Well, that's me.

I went to Donna's wedding. I wasn't invited. I found out about it from a mutual friend who Lady Hem sees quite often. It was down by the river, the weather was good, she looked awesome and her son was cute as hell.

I didn't stay around to say congratulations or anything. I left at the ring signing. This is what I'm like in real life. On this blog I make myself appear friendly and semi-cool but, in real life, I'm pretty much a fucking arsehole.

Still, it was a good day.