12 Signs You Are Going Out Out. Dad Style.
12 Signs You Are Going Out Out. Dad Style
For fellas whose social lives, since little ones came on the scene, have frankly been turned nappy-side-up.
Most importantly, huge apologies in advance to my loving wife who has done more than her fair share of holding my hair back over toilets over the years.
Make sure you book not only the morning but the next night, the day after and the previous three weeks off. This is the amount of time you will need to be nice to your dog. (You will be sharing its house for at least the next 48 hours).
If by chance, you stumble into your bed at the end of the night, you are bound to be met with a cold shoulder, “Bloody hell what time do you call this?” and “You stink, you’ve been smoking haven’t you?” Make sure you steel yourself against this by heading straight to the spare room. Don’t get this mixed up, and definitely not with the kid’s bedroom. If, god forbid, you accidently wake them, by stumbling into their room, your significant other will greet you in the same manner as if you had admitted to being Jimmy Saville’s wingman.
OOTD (that is youth speak for Outfit Of The Day)
You can wear trainers but don’t unless they are old school ones. Don’t imagine you will look good in some multicoloured hi-teks, skinny jeans or anything that looks like it comes from Topman or Jeremy Clarkson’s wardrobe. It doesn’t matter what you are wearing because you are going OUT out! Not just out. Settle for the universal dad uniform of smart work jacket, jeans, and a shirt. Everyone else will, and you will feel left out if you don’t.
Knowing One’s Limitations
The more pints you down, the more trips to the loo you are going to need; when you hit 40, your bladder shrinks – fact. Gents toilets (especially in busy weekend pubs) are rancid hell-holes. Why would you want to spend any more time queuing up, having your shoes covered in p*ss and being barged out the way by coked-up meatheads? Don’t do it. If you can stick to bottles or shorts, do so. Less volume means fewer loo stops.
That All Important First Drink
Who cares as long as it’s not your round? Well yes, a few years ago that would have been the case. Now, pubs are full of poncey foreign beers and pale ales that no one has ever heard of, being drunk by hipsters with beards. Get to the bar first and suss out the options. That way, you are not stuck with a pint of something disgusting that your mates keep buying you because that’s what they think you’re drinking these days.
Keep it old school with proper mates, not workmates or NCT buddies or anyone that will fold under questioning. You want ‘the Inbetweeners’-like group social dynamic that you had when you were at school or uni together. Also, anyone born after 1980 is automatically barred for fear of ruining the inevitable drunken “Do you remember?” conversations.
The General Public
The majority of the general public are kn*bheads, especially when drunk. The older you get, the more your tolerance levels diminish. Consider that you will be doing a lot of tutting. Tutting about how stupid most blokes around you look with their beards and skinny jeans and most importantly tutting about how skimpy/glam/slutty the women look. Alongside this, you will, of course, continue bragging about how many of them you could still ‘pull’ (if you actually wanted to, which you don’t). Obviously, you are not going to, because deep down inside, they terrify you. But male ego, social convention, and beer won’t let that compute.
Don’t. The only cocktails you should drink is a lemonade top if the over-priced beer is a bit gassy. Maybe, if you can carry it off then a White Russian. Saying that ‘The Dude’ drank White Russians in ‘The Big Lebowski’ and nobody f*cked with him, is not an excuse. You are not him and will look stupid.
You will spend at least 2 hours convincing everybody that you should go to a club. Don’t. Just try and find a half reasonable pub with a late license. Somewhere you might be able to have a sit-down and not subject the world to your dad dancing.
You will spend 60% of the night arguing with your mates that everything since the Stone Roses split, is shit, asking “why is the DJ is using a laptop rather than vinyl?”, and listing the reasons that Simon Cowell should be put on trial in the Hague for crimes against humanity. However, no matter how bad the music gets, it is unacceptable to ask them to turn it down. You may need to consider smoking again so you can hang out outside where it’s slightly quieter.
Time to Go Home?
Inside you are screaming for a cuppa, but you’re in the process of telling your best mate just how much of a massive c*ck he is for wanting to go home. This means you can’t bail-out for fear of losing face.
Time to Go Home
You’ve lost track of whose round it is and seen your mate try to show his best moves to the table full of twenty-somethings sitting opposite, only to be so hideously burned that he needs a skin graft to patch up his wounded pride. Time for the Jeremy Kyle Green Room that is the cab rank. The place where dodgy kebabs, regrettable one-night stands, the “You staring at my…” punch-up’s and cheap perfume go to die. When finally you get a cab you will do the following:
- Forget your address.
- Argue with the cabbie about not getting ripped off.
- Pretend you are not p*ssed by making slurry small talk. “Had a busy night then mate?”
- Try to act sober and fail by puking down your smart work jacket.
If the God’s are with you, you somehow manage to get home. You slam the front door, trip up over one of the kid’s roller skates and wake them up.
The Next Day
Get Dignitas on speed dial, because you will feel so bad you will want to end. Constantly having to say “Oh did I?” and “Sorry about that – it won’t happen again. It was (insert best mates name) fault you know what he’s like. I know you never liked him.” and “I won’t see him again.”
To any wives or girlfriends reading this, please be assured none of it is true.