Ra and I went to a lounge in Chelsea for Happy Hour on Thursday night, where our good friend was DJing. After turning down a promoter's complimentary dinner starting at 10pm on Little West 12th Street followed by drinks and dancing at a nearby club, we were both back in Brooklyn and Harlem respectively before nine o'clock and asleep by ten.
We had ambitious hopes for a Friday night out, but you know it's been a long, hard week when two 20-something New Yorkers pass up another promoter's complimentary dinner in the Meatpacking District and a table at Tenjune. Or maybe we're getting over the clubs, restaurant openings and velvet rope parties that are so exciting when you're new to the city. Or maybe we are unwilling to admit that we can't party in our late-20s like we did in college.
Friday afternoon we were comparing text messages we had received from promoters inviting us to various clubs in attempt to lock down a plan that we both knew we would likely bail on later. By the time I left the office, we were texting each other and relieved that we both felt the same way. All for pajamas and couch night? Say, "Aaaaaaaah."
Besides, Iris had to attend a Fashion Show in Brooklyn, Tasha is out of town for a wedding, and Mayra - though she vowed to continue with an active night life as long she can still fit in her club clothes - is in the uncomfortable phase of the first trimester of her pregnancy. Tonight, however, we're gathering at Ra's apartment in Brooklyn for a house party. Wine and hard liquor for all and Virgin Bloody Marys for Mayra. Full report tomorrow.