Calling it Quits

I felt very grown up the other night. You see, I called it. Not the kind of calling it when you think you’re right and then it’s proven you are. (This is especially gratifying when it takes places in front of your husband and you never even had said “I told you so.”) Nope, I simply called it quits on a Friday night.

Calling it quits is something strange and foreign to me. In recent years, I’ve learned the value and some good lessons about cutting things short. For example, “one for the road,” is never a good idea. Especially if you’re with desperate housewives or have suddenly run into an ex-boyfriend. Not that I would know. For real! I’m innocent.

Cutting it quits with a book or movie that’s not working for you is also a good idea. Why do we think we have to suffer through things that don’t bring us joy or anything positive? Friendships that drain you also comes to mind.

Sometimes things don’t gel. You try and try, and for some reason the night, the plan, whatever you had in mind just doesn’t work out. I love the saying: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. It makes me feel awesome about not doing the things I think I “should” be doing. It’s also a reminder if you try and try to fit a square peg into a round hole, it just won’t fit.

I feel I’ve done this massive build up and I’m about to let you down. My calling it wasn’t so dramatic, but it did make me feel proud. Nobody was at home and I had the night to myself after attending a work event. The work event morphed into a social event and I invited a few fun folks over to my place to keep the party going. People flittered off and the group got smaller and smaller. When I left with my friends I was raring to go.

I was:

Tipsy
Hungry (the waiter took away my untouched entree because I was gabbing so much)
Free of family obligations

But then we couldn’t get into to any restaurant or bar that had seats (yes, I’m officially old). So I called it. I know my friends would’ve loved to come over to my house and raided the liquor cabinet with me, but I didn’t see the point. What I foresaw was hours chatting about the same topics we covered or dinner and a hangover in the morning.

So I called it. I had a Spidey sense, I honoured it and I went home. You may be reading this thinking “big deal,” but dude, this is a big deal for me. I’m always the last one standing, the one to close the party down. For me to prioritize myself, my sleep and my health at the expense of somebody else’s good time. Well, it’s almost monumental.

While I woke up Saturday morning refreshed, I also felt like shards of broken glass had pierced my throat. Could it be that somewhere deep inside of me I knew I needed my rest to try and fight off this cold? Maybe, maybe not. At least I’m getting better at prioritizing myself.

Are you in the habit of pulling the plug on plans when things don’t line up?