Since the nest has emptied, if we go out for dinner, it’s (usually) around 5pm-6pm. If we dine with friends with less job flexibility, we happily make reservations for 7pm or 8pm. Key word: reservations. While it’s healthier to eat earlier, for me it’s about not waiting for a table and getting home at a decent hour.
I’m the person who walks into the bank, sees twenty people in line and walks out. Ditto for stores with one cashier on a busy Saturday afternoon and, restaurants! When the hostess offers, “please enjoy a drink at the bar while you wait”, I glance over to see a tight crowd, loud talking and bumping music. Been there in my 20’s and as my youngest used to say when she was little: “all done that”.
For the record, we frequent plenty of restaurants without bars, but since Covid (inexplicably), many establishments no longer accept reservations unless you’re a party of 10+. I’m the awkward sort, feeling weird standing around exchanging glances with strangers while waiting. It’s like I’m on an elevator, except this ride takes 30 minutes!
Once our nest emptied, we started dining out more often and the frequency was new and special to us. Now, it’s normal for GenZ’ers to drop a couple hundred on a Tuesday. And, hey, good for them! The point: restaurants are far more packed than years ago, thus me needing a reservation to avoid waiting.
While early dining is our norm, on occasion we shock our adult children by eating, shopping and visiting people after dark. Holiday weekends, such as this past 4th of July celebration, called for a couple late nights. There were many bright spots in the weekend, including watching fireworks with my daughter and her friends at an annual party.
Though the party was a good time, the funniest mid-life moment of my weekend was when husband and I had dinner at a trendy, small place at 7pm where we normally stop in at 5pm. Before we entered, my husband said, “I got it. If no tables are available, we’ll leave.” There were a few, so we stayed.
Two girls in their early 20’s were seated at a table five-feet from ours. We sipped drinks and chatted briefly before getting on with the dinner and catching up with my husband.
I had to stifle laughter an hour later. My husband was signing the bill, so we weren’t talking – me unintentionally eavesdropping on the next-door table. One of the girls sighs dramatically, “I’m going to wear this outfit all night. I’m not even going to change.”
They launched into a full discourse about outfits… how “this dress will have to do all night”, and mentioned three more quick pub stops before she added: “when we go out tonight at eleven”!
I looked at my phone and it was 8:45pm. In my world, it was officially “night” and I was already thinking about my slippers! In hers, the night wasn’t actually starting until eleven!
I was them – for about a year after college – stressing about what I would wear – changing between day/work clothes, the dinner stop outfit, then a “going out” ensemble. It was a very brief season for this gal, never much of a goer-outer and sleepy by nine even then.
Once we became parents, there were two decades of hockey tournaments, lacrosse and field hockey games dictating late-night dinners. Once the nest fully emptied, we quickly became “those people” who are home by eight (or much earlier most nights).
While the next-door-table girls were in their “same outfit” at eleven, I was fast asleep in my cozy pj’s!
I hope you had an enjoyable weekend celebrating our amazing country🇺🇸. God bless the precious families affected in the Texas floods and I wish you a wonderful week ahead🤍.
Tales from a Mid-Lifer 
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