Party all night long!

By Kirstin Buick
12 August 2013

Our dating blogger worries that at 46 she may not be able to keep up with her 27-year-old date when he takes her out partying.

This weekend I had a date with a 27-year-old. Milkshake Boy (remember him? . . . ). And no, we didn’t go to the Spur. We went to a dubstep concert. Which immediately caused cries of concern among my friends.

“What’s a dubstep concert? Is it like two-step? Is it sakkie-sakkie? Or is it like a rave concert,” a worried friend (WF) asked.

“Ha-ha man, it’s just dance music – only dubstep has heavy base. It’s very cool.”

“Heavens, Erla,” WF says. “You already sound like a 20-year-old. You’d better watch out – mixing with milkshake boys can turn you into an airhead. Wait until three in the morning and your milkshake boy will still want to dubstep and all you’ll want is your bed. You’ll be finished, old girl. Remember, you’re a middle-aged woman.”

“Speak for yourself!” I retort. “I can do it. If I could get up to breastfeed every two hours when I was 32 and if I could stay up until three in the morning writing a book, then I can definitely dance until the small hours. How hard can it be?”

But come Saturday afternoon I’m so tired after my late-night conversation with WF that I’m having serious second thoughts about my dubstep date. Especially when told the actual concert only starts at midnight.

Midnight? How on earth will I stay awake until then?

“Vodka and Redbull!” Milkshake Boy announces.

Do people still have that, I want to ask. But then bite my tongue. Vodka and Redbull it will be. When I was in my twenties it worked so I was sure it would do the trick again – only this time I’d have a double shot. No problem. But my heart nearly stopped when Milkshake Boy arrived in his bakkie – complete with blaring music – vodka and Redbull glass in hand.

“I hope you’re not drinking and driving!” I scold – and immediately feel like his mother.

Well, you could be his mother, a little voice in my head says, but I get into the bakkie anyway. My thoughts are immediately obliterated by the thump-thump-thump of the music.

“No, Babe, this is for you!” he replies.

I can’t remember when last I drank booze from a plastic cup in a car. It feels strange yet familiar – just like when I was young. And that would become my line for the evening. Just like when I was young.

The long car queues, the grass fields doubling as parking areas which I know will change into a mud bath if it starts raining, the green plastic portaloos where the smell of urine hits you between the eyes when you open the door, the girls in their hotpants, their legs blue with cold, the boys with their tattoos and attitude.

Just like when I was young.

But not quite. Firstly I was the oldest person there. All the people my age were sitting in their cars with the heater on, listening to 5FM while waiting for the concert to finish so they could take their kids home. I felt like dragging the old fogies from their cars to come and join me, because this was so much better than when I was 20!

This time I was fearless. I knew exactly what to expect. The drunk guys falling over you, the unsavoury characters who’re hanging around, waiting for an opportune moment to lift your cellphone from your back pocket. And even better – unlike the kids around me I knew this evening would one day become a memory. And that evenings such as these can’t last forever and are eventually replaced by suburban braais and boring kiddies parties. Which is why I could with the benefit of an older woman’s hindsight enjoy the evening that much more.

We left at three in the morning. And I’m proud to say I stayed on my feet, dubstepping, thanks to the Red Bull that gave me wings. Afterwards we went to Milkshake Boy’s friends’ flat. Perhaps not the wisest of decisions I realised when I woke up on Sunday on a mattress on the floor in a noisy flat on a noisy street with no water or cooldrink in the fridge and no clean glasses in the kitchen.

That’s when I realised: It had been a fantastic blast from the past. For one night I was Cinderella with Red Bull wings. But a middle-aged woman can only take so much, then she wants to go back to her double-door fridge and king-size bed.

-      Erla-Mari Diedericks

Erla-Mari Diedericks is the author of the book Sin, Sushi & Survival and her latest novel, Still Standing, is now available in shops countrywide as well as at

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