I remember this time, not too long ago, when everything just felt… buzzing. Like, seriously, my whole world was just one big party. I wasn’t really gunning for anything serious, you know? Just chugging along, doing my thing, job was alright, nothing to write home about, but steady. My weekends? Man, those were packed. Every single one. It was always a big cookout, or some mate’s birthday bash that turned into an all-nighter, or just us lot piling into some beat-up car and heading off to who-knows-where, just to see what kind of trouble we could get into.
I was always out. Every night, seemed like there was something going on. New faces kept popping up all the time, too. Friends of friends, folks from different teams at work, even just random blokes and lasses I’d bump into at some gig or market. It was easy, dead easy, to just strike up a chat. There was this proper vibe, this energy bouncing around me, and I was just soaking it all up. I felt good, you know? Like I was right in the thick of it, surrounded by belly laughs and good times. Like I was on top of the world, for real.
Then, as it always does when you’re not even looking, people started appearing. Not just mates for a pint, but like, potential somethings. You know the drill. There was this one character, right? Super charming, always had a cracking joke, made me proper laugh. We’d hang out, just the two of us sometimes, but mostly always with the whole crew. Never really just on our own, if you know what I mean. Then another one, completely different sort, really intense, loved a good deep natter about life, the universe, and everything. But again, always at the same gatherings, never really a one-on-one kind of deal. And then a third! This one was just pure madness, in a good way. Spontaneous, always up for anything, no matter how daft. It was a proper whirlwind, honestly. My head was spinning.
I thought, “Bloody hell, this is the life! This is what everyone bangs on about, ain’t it? Being popular, having choices, just riding the wave.” I was really feeling myself, feeling like I was the center of some mad social universe. Every single week, it was a different mix of these people, sometimes all of them jammed into the same pub or party. We’d be sharing rounds, spinning yarns, laughing ’til our guts hurt. It felt like something out of a film, honestly, one of those rom-coms where the lead character is just living their best life, surrounded by good-looking people and endless fun. It was brilliant, or so I thought.
But then, after a few weeks, maybe a month or two of this non-stop shindig, something started to feel… off. It was subtle, real subtle at first. I’d trudge home after a night out, and the buzz would just fade, leaving me with this weird… emptiness. Not gutted, not sad, just like I’d just run a marathon of small talk and surface-level banter. I’d try to dig a bit deeper with one of these people, you know, really try to talk about something that actually mattered, and it just wouldn’t land. Or they’d get distracted by someone else. Or the chat would just somehow swerve back to the group activities, the next party, the next laugh. It was frustrating, to be honest. Like trying to catch smoke.
I started clocking how much I was putting on a show. Like I was performing for everyone, including these people I was kinda, sorta, dating or getting to know. I was always trying to be the loud one, the funny one, the easygoing one, the one who didn’t stir up any trouble. And they were doing it too. Everyone was just… happy-go-lucky. On the surface, mind. I started properly thinking, is this it? Is this what love is meant to be? Just a never-ending party with a revolving cast of dance partners? It felt a bit hollow, a bit like cotton candy – sweet, but no substance.
I’d find myself weighing them up against each other. One was ace for a laugh, another was good for getting my brain working, another for just quiet company, but never all rolled into one. And none of them felt like they were really seeing me, the me that sometimes just wants to hole up at home with a crappy book, or the me that stresses about daft little things, or the me that doesn’t always have a sharp comeback. It was always about the gang, the atmosphere, the fleeting fun. It was all a bit much, a bit overwhelming.
One particular evening, after another massive get-together, I was just knackered. Proper drained, both physically and emotionally. I scrolled through my phone, seeing all the pictures, all the grinning faces, including my own. And I just thought, “What is this actually leading to?” It didn’t feel like a foundation for anything real. It felt more like building a house of cards on a bouncy castle. Any strong breeze, and poof, it’d all be gone.
I started pulling back, bit by bit. Missing a party here, choosing a quiet night in there. And what happened? Some of those connections, the ones that felt so rock solid when we were all together, they just… faded. No drama, no big arguments, just a quiet vanishing act. They didn’t bother to reach out. I didn’t either, not really. It was like the only thing holding us together was the group setting, and once that was out of the picture, there was nothing left. It stung a bit, I won’t lie, but it wasn’t a shock.
It was a strange feeling, going from always having plans, always being mobbed by people, to suddenly having proper quiet evenings. But in that quiet, I started to actually think for myself. I started to feel what I was genuinely feeling, not just what the crowd’s energy was telling me to feel. I realized that while all that fun was grand, and those people were decent enough folk, what I was calling “love” or a “love outcome” was more like a celebration of superficial connection, not necessarily deep, meaningful connection. It was like drinking fizzy pop when you actually needed a good, strong cuppa.
It was a brilliant chapter in my life, don’t get me wrong. I learned a ton about myself, about what makes me tick in social situations, and what I thought I wanted versus what I actually needed. It taught me that sometimes, the “outcome” isn’t a single person or some grand romantic gesture, but an experience that shows you what you’re capable of, and also what you might be missing without even realizing it.
And “true love”? Well, that period definitely wasn’t it. It was a wonderful, bubbly, exciting chapter of friendships and flirtations, a right good laugh, honestly. But real love, the kind you actually put effort into building, the kind that sees you on your rough days and not just your party nights, that felt like something completely different. Something that asks for more than just a good time and a few cheap laughs. Something that actually sticks around when the music stops and everyone else has gone home. That’s what I started to figure out I was actually looking for, past all the glitter and the good vibes. It was a proper lesson learned, that much is for sure.
