The Balance Between Having Fun and Being Happy

I was a damn good time back in the day. My friends will attest that I reliably came up with good ideas and had the total lack of care for consequences to provide great memories for myself and those around me.

I am not a fun person anymore. Now my friends will attest that I truly suck as the things I did a decade ago do not even come close to happening these days. You won’t find me taking shots; instead, I’ll drink nearly as much water as I consume in alcoholic beverages. I won’t be the last one partying; instead, I’ll be the first one awake. I’ll probably go for a run, because my water consumption has led to me only feeling below average instead of horrifically hungover.

In short, I suck at fun.

Young me would be appalled at this turn of events. I mean, isn’t life all about having as much fun as possible? That’s what I thought for a long time, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned that the effort for fun usually isn’t what actually makes me happy. Sure, for big occasions, I go hard, especially if it’s prominently day drinking, because staying up late is a real hassle especially since I don’t have the availability or the charm to bring home a young vixen.

So now I just chill. And it’s actually pretty great. It’s not exciting. It’s not Instagrammable. But it’s good. I hang with my wife, dog, and child, and all of them bring smiles to my face. It’s the simplest things that now bring me joy. Getting a single beer at a brewery with the entire family is a wild time for me these days. Usually, it’s less exciting than that. Just watching my son eat meals is amazing, because he feeds himself, he gets a tremendous kick out of feeding the dog, and then I snack on his leftovers while his Mommy cleans him up. It’s a win-win-win-win. It would mean nothing to anyone else, and it puts the biggest smile on my face.

So I have come to grips with a life that leads to few fun activities and even fewer adventures. I’m straight up boring...and happy. So I’m good with it.