42 is the new 22

If you have been paying attention to my outfit photos in the Instagram widget in the sidebar, you might have realised that I've been going out quite a bit lately. In fact, I don't remember going OUT out (as opposed to just meeting friends for a film or dinner) so often since my student days. I've joked with Chiquita, whom I often enlist to accompany me that, apparently, 42 is the new 22. I won't deny that I don't have any wild stories to tell of my twens or thirties even, so it seems I am trying to make up for it now...occasional juvenile behaviour (or let's call it errors of judgment, rather) and all. What's worse is that I don't even have the popular excuse of alcohol to blame as I never get drunk and should in theory be able to make sound decisions. In any case, I'm quite enjoying the fact that I get to give my nice party-gear a bit of airtime and also the reassurance that not EVERYone in this town my age is married with kids and leads a life that feels at times diametrically opposed to mine. Mind you, some of the single men out and about make you think there is a good reason why they are not in the "married-with-kids" camp, but they are probably thinking the same about me, fair enough.