“Watch a film or two. Have that snack you’ve been craving all week. Put on your comfies, and don’t feel bad about it. Tie your hair up, get that make up off, and have some you time. Heck, spend your wild night in however the hell you want.”

There’s nothing I love more than having a good old fashioned, cosy night in. Add some chocolate, a good film and a big blanket and I’m just about in my element. Because nights in are the new nights out – and they kind of always have been.

You see, I’ve always been a greater fan of nights in than nights out – despite temporarily forgetting that fact whilst at uni (as you do). I’ve always been a bit of a home lover, and more of an introvert than I’d like to admit. My home is my comfort zone, and after a long day in the office, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than to just get back into the place I love most, indulge in some ‘me time’ and c h i l l  o u t . 

Prior to heading off to Uni and starting a brand new (largely alcohol fueled) adventure, I would have the odd night out here and there. Of course, you only just turn 18 before heading off to Uni, so the opportunity to go out prior to that is slim to none. That being said, the classic pepsi parties called, followed by a step up to pre-drinks of WKD before a fab night out (note: sarcasm at its finest) in possibly one of the worst nightclubs around – the perks (or downsides) of living by a very small town which had just one nightclub to its name. 

I’d always lived in the same area growing up, and in the same house too. It was safe. I went to a small town high school, where everyone knew everyone. It was surrounded largely by fields and not a lot else going on. You can picture the scene. And, as a young’un living on the outskirts of that very small town, the village I actually lived in had even less to do. So, invariably coming back from school meant I didn’t venture out at all that evening, unlike most of the town kids who had much more to occupy themselves with, and a lot more people around too – the lucky devils.

When 18 hit and school was over, I moved out of my home home to the big world of Uni. And things changed. I embraced freshers, and continued to go out several times a week. And so on, and so forth. It was completely different to home life, and I loved that. I’d well and truly hit that stage when you’re 18, you’ve got a new found freedom, you feel like you’re on top of the world, and you’re suddenly so mature. Alas, you soon realise when you’re in your final year just how young freshers really are – but hey ho, we’ve all been there!

Ultimately, this change in lifestyle suited me. I no longer wanted nights in on the trot and I thrived off being around people all of the time – trying to spend as little time in my room, on my own, as possible. It was all about gatherings in the kitchen; to work, to chat, to cook, to laze around – the lot! And, if I wasn’t doing anything at the weekend (or heading out), I was bored out of my brains.

This phase was short lived in the grand scheme of things – after 3 years of partying and living away from my family home, nights out suddenly didn’t appear quite so appealing anymore. After finishing my placement year (year 3 at Uni, and possibly the funnest one I had), heading back for my fourth and final year (albeit a year older, and feeling a lot wiser), I was more focused on working than partying, with cheap and boozy nights out seemingly losing their thrill factor. I no longer fancied going to the same places freshers would be (and I don’t mean that disrespectfully!), but I somehow felt like I’d outgrown these places after heading there consecutively for 3 years. Clubs no longer seemed so exciting, and my idea of a good night out was heading out to a nice bar for a few cocktails and prosecco, to actually do that crazy little thing called chatting. It somehow appealed a little more than spending the evening shuffling back and forth on the dance floor all night long next to your friends and leaving the club with a mild form of tinnitus. God, I feel old before my time. 

Anyway, the reality was, I’d grown up. At the end of my placement year, I’d found myself a boyfriend (oooh get me) and I was determined to get a First for my degree (despite averaging a 2:1 heading into my last year). I was living with other like-minded girls off my course (which was a massive help when it came to doing essays) which was a blessing in disguise. It meant we all had breaks together, and motivated each other to go off to our rooms and crack on with some damn work when we really didn’t want to. I looked forward to seeing Harry one night during the week, and my weekends were spent at his, from Friday night through to Sunday night. I was truly happy.

Despite the numerous fun memories I have of boozy nights out, and as brilliant as partying until the lights came on was, to then freeze my butt off trekking it to McDonald’s at 6am in the morning, the small-town girl soon found her way back out, and I easily slipped into a more chilled out routine, remembering just how nice it was to have a night in, rather than a night out. And you know what? I didn’t miss it one bit.

Since then, this love for staying in has grown even more (dare I admit it) since Harry and I have moved into our own place. But, I think this is pretty inevitable. Take age out of the equation, and I still think this holds true. When you have your own house; a space you call home, and a place you’ve spent time to make your own, of course you’re going to enjoy spending time there – doing just that. And as much of it as you can! It’s a weird thing, being emotionally attached to a house. But it feels so good. And as much as I love my home home and that’s never going to change, I really love our space here in Birmingham which is just ours.

You see, nights in always win over nights out (in my book). You’re in true comfort mode. You can spend time with the people you want to spend time with, and not a load of strangers constantly bumping into you whilst you’re at it. You can do what you want to do, without anyone judging. Where’s that slab of chocolate gone… You can pass the time in whatever which way you want. It’s your space. Have a wild night in soaking in the bath tub whilst catching up on YouTube. Watch a film or two. Have that snack you’ve been craving all week. Put your comfies on, and don’t feel bad about it. Tie your hair up, get that make up off, and have some you time. Heck, spend your wild night in however the hell you want.

Yes, I’ll be the girl who would rather stay in on New Years Eve than to head out. Boo you whore. I’m the kind of girl who definitely does not experience FOMO thinking of everyone out out when I’m tucked up in bed with a cup of tea in hand. And I’m the kind of girl who much prefers a night in, over a night out. And you know what? I don’t care who knows it!


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *