Well, this is it everybody; festival season is officially upon us. The first weekend of Coachella kicks off in a mere 5 days and a plethora of others are hot on it’s heels. Soon our social media feeds will be bombarded with flower crowns and vintage shades.  Captions like “BEST CREW!”, “Coachella babes”, and “desert vibes ??” will slowly but surely outnumber “brunch with my bestie” and “WTF, Toronto – you call this spring??”.

While a few years ago, this would likely have induced a very serious case of FOMO for me… I now feel nothing.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I am officially completely indifferent to partying.  This is not a matter of passing judgement on anyone; I’m not bashing ‘the scene’, and I certainly don’t think I’m all of a sudden “too cool” for wild shenanigans.  The truth is actually very simple: the circumstances surrounding my life at the moment have created a road block that just does not allow me to enjoy parties the way I used to.

Let me explain:

1. My patience level has been worn down to the point that it is impossible for me to survive in a room (or field, or piece of desert, or whatever) full of drunk people for any extended period of time.  Case and point: I physically cannot handle people yelling and spitting in my ear anymore.  How did that not drive me totally mental before?

 2. I have officially lost the ability to pretend.  I can’t do the double-kiss charade with people I don’t like, I can’t make small talk with air heads, and I can no longer pretend like it’s all good if you step on my toe with your Sky-High Platform Louboutins.  Once upon a time, I would have stifled the pain and been all “Oh girl, don’t even worry about it,” without missing a beat. Now I would probably just cut my losses and send my ass home.

 3. My wardrobe is no longer a party wardrobe. Almost entirely devoid of fringe, lace, flower crowns, and wide-brim hats, my closet is all grown up. I strongly believe in buying quality, which translates to, “bitch, don’t you dare spill that vodka-cranberry on these shoes!”  Don’t get me wrong, I think “festival gear” is actually totally adorable.  But the problem is that the only gladiator sandals I like are by Laurence Decade and cost $1,800.00 – they are amazing, but that’s a party-purchase that both my conscience and bank account would have a hard time handling. I’ll take a dope (yet classic) leather bomber instead, please.

 4. An occasional night out here and there is one thing. A little dinner, a few drinks, then home to bed. But festivals – festivals are like party marathons, and let’s be real here: if I don’t feed my kid within a 12-hour time span, I have to pump… Which is, hands down, the most effective buzz-kill EVER. I actually consider it cruel and unusual punishment for having a good time.

 5. I am lazy as hell now. Really. I have recently reached a level of laziness that I was not priorly aware of. The thought of going out at midnight literally makes me feel like I’m going to puke. I’m too lazy to track down event passes. I’m too lazy to organize a babysitter. And I am always too lazy to take off my makeup after a night out and I can’t deal with waking up with raccoon eyes anymore.

 6. Since I’ve been spending a lot of time entertaining at home (’cause my baby’s holding me hostage), I have gotten accustomed to drinking good scotch, and as a result, bar rail now tastes like cleaning products to me. How did I ever drink bar lime or Absolut Vodka? Remember when we used to drink coolers?? Were our stomachs made of steel???

But, what can you do – that’s just the way life goes. It’s always moving, changing, evolving. You remain the same, but your relationships with things transform, just as they do with people. As for me, I think I’ve managed to make peace with the recent changes in my relationship with parties and the crazy times of days past. We were hot and heavy for a while there, but the spark is gone, so it’s probably best that we just move on; however, I take comfort in knowing that just like with any ex, we’ll still always have Instagram to creep on each other should curiosity strike.

This post was originally published on April 13, 2015.