Can you ever be too much of a hermit?

dance in a club

I have become quite the recluse of late. A wild night encompassing my eating a burger in a reclined seat at the movies. I’m not complaining, I love me my movies and indulging in Cineplex’s VIP theatres (only theatres with reclining seats though of course). I get giddy with the anticipation leading up to the movie of choice and it doesn’t even have to be with a friend(s). I rock the movie-watching solo too, and I like it.

All of this is to say, maybe I enjoy my solo company a little too much? Is that possible? My schedule is on a pretty solid routine: work, gym, movies, home, the odd social engagement: dinner; drinks; movies; AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario); brunch. Long gone are the days of going out multiple—the energy!—times a week, dancing on tables in seedy bars to Bubba Sparkxxx (↓ for a refresher). Yes, I was that obnoxious.

Catchy tune? Yes. Irksome lyrics and video? Double yes.

I find it an odd thing, this thing we call maturing. To think what your normal once was, to what it is now. And how by next week your new normal could potentially do a 180° or a 560° or flip you into an alternate universe à la my latest friends who have become new parents (Hi, Cait and Ad!). That’s the beauty and I suppose, the ugly, of life. Ever changing and evolving. Gotta keep up.

I value my quiet, orderly time. I like taking care of myself. And the most I really overindulge in is eating too much ice cream or watching too much Netflix. Gone are the days, as a coworker shared with me recently, when we would go out in droves with our people to whatever pub or club to get our fun on and now we’re lucky if we can find more than a couple friends to hit up a dance floor. Those times are saved for special occasions: birthdays, New Years, bachelorettes/hen dos.

My next special occasion is in June. I am super excited and cannot wait. Until then I’ll keep on hermitting it up in my apartment (because one of the benefits of being a hermit? Is saving them dolla dolla bills) dancing to a jam on repeat in my head (or Google Play) and keeping myself entertained how my 33-year-old self sees fit: Netflix and bake.


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