Free weekend? Awaahooo! Let's rave!

This is the first weekend in a while that I've had to suit myself.

Monsieur Boy, whose idea of fun is putting on a wetsuit thicker than walrus hide and wading out into freezing cold water on a fibreglass board, couldn't understand why I didn't want to join him on the south west coast this weekend. I had, after all, made a fair effort to get the hang of surfing in Australia and New Zealand for precisely that reason. I didn't want to be all lame by stating the girly obvious "It's too cooolld", so I opted for flattery instead. "But you are so good! And I am so bad. I will only hold you back!". And that seemed to work, so off he went.

I should explain that bar the whole being apart for five months while I hooplah round the world thing, the Boy and I do tend to spend a fair bit of time together. After work, weekends, any time going, really. The fact is, I'm still revelling in having a boyfriend who actually wants to see me. It's like, shit the bed, who knew one of those actually existed?

That said, I am conscious of becoming one of those Girls I Hate, i.e. the ones who go out for a few drinks, then rush off somewhere because their Bloody Boyfriend is meeting them. You know, they say "Sorry, I'm seeing My Bloody Boyfriend that night. And that one. And the next." or "Yeah, I'm coming out. Can my Bloody Boyfriend come too?" everytime you suggest raucus drinks. And generally, if denied, they proceed to spend the night texting their Bloody Boyfriend anyway, who has probably orchestrated a bloody night out in the bloody bar next door.

It's no real surprise when people bow out early and take the less spontaneous approach to nights out once they're in a relationship. A fondness for drunken all-nighters tends to dribble slowly into nights in front of the TV at around the same time you start answering your text messages with "We" instead of "I". Although I'm proud to say I'm not at critical marching point just yet. And as far as my relationship is concerned, there's no need to feel guilty about getting in from a rave at 7am if the purpose of said rave was to mark your one year anniversary.

So this weekend, with Boy in Surf and Jo in London, I had the perfect opportunity to go out with friends, stay out all night, and swan about sans-man. Gallivant with those I gallivanted with before "feeling tired" actually stopped me going on a night out.

Which is exactly why at 10pm on a Saturday night, I'm sitting on the only part of my bed not covered in clothing / bags / mess, with a belly full of Chinese take away, watching an irritating, unfunny man do silly voices and laugh at his own jokes on TV and googling 'pilates class in north west London'.

In conclusion, boy or no boy, relationship or single, I think when it comes down to it...

...I'm probably just...a little bit... lazy.