I have decided that Saturday night is the weekly equivalent of New Year’s Eve. Going out can seem like a good idea, especially when everyone else is doing it and I don’t have to get up for work the next day, but it’s almost always disappointing. I have never been a fan of going out on a Saturday, and I avoid it as much as I possible. I would rather go out any other night of the week, when it’s quieter and there aren’t quite so many people milling about. As I may have mentioned before, I’m not the most sociable person at the best of times, so choosing to leave the house when there are so many other people out and about seems like a huge mistake to me. Of course it can’t always be helped, and as long as the location and company are carefully chosen it can actually be a very pleasant experience. I think it’s these times that lead me to forget how bad a Saturday night out can be, and I let myself believe that going somewhere that I know is going to be overcrowded and unpleasant is a good idea. But I am usually reminded very quickly of how wrong I am. Maybe it’s when I’m driving around the same streets for the fourth time hoping a parking space is suddenly going to appear out of nowhere. Or when I’m standing in line for movie tickets. Or in line to get into the movie. Or in line for the ladies after the movie. Having to wait in line at all is generally not my idea of good time. I expect to do it at the supermarket or the ATM, I don’t really want to do it repeatedly on what’s supposed to be a fun night out. And it doesn’t help when the movie turns out to be so dull that I struggle to stay awake, although I can admit that’s probably not Saturday night’s fault. Then there are the smokers. I don’t actually have much of a problem with smoking. I don’t particularly like it but, as with most things, I respect people’s right do it. I do like that they can’t smoke in restaurants though. At least I like it when I’m in the restaurant, not so much when I’m attempting to walk down a restaurant-heavy street that’s littered with groups of people blowing their smoke in my face and waving their cigarettes in the general vicinity of my eyes. Does everyone suffer from this? I do wonder if it’s a height thing, perhaps being short puts me right in the line of fire. Literally, in this case. So by the time I’ve dealt with parking, crowds, multiple lines and dodging smokers I’m really not in much of a socialising mood. It reminds me that even though I may feel guilty turning down a social invitation from people I really do enjoy spending time with, sometimes I should do it just to save them having to put up with me and my unsociable ways. I suspect they might secretly appreciate that too.