Sex + Dating

Going Home Early Is the Best Part of Being in a Relationship

Illustrated couple at bar thinking up a way to go home and go to bed
GRANT KRATZER/THRILLIST

I used to think my distaste for being out late night came from the fact that I don’t do cocaine. But the truth is I’m just not all that fun. I think, on a scale from one to fun, I’m a Charles Grodin.

Look at that, I can't even make an interesting reference.

However, it’s recently occurred to me that my resistance to long nights out has been rationalized and understood by way of my relationship with a sweet girl I'd love to put babies inside of one day. It is through our mutual love of an early evening that I’ve come to realize that going home early is the best part of being in a relationship.

Illustrated map of an escape route on a bar napkin
GRANT KRATZER/THRILLIST

Beds are pretty amazing

Honestly, I don’t know why I hate staying out past midnight. Ask any of my friends, I’m a big glob of boring oatmeal when the clock strikes 11pm. When midnight comes around, I’m making overt yawning gestures and thinking of ways to get out of the bar without hurting anyone’s feelings.

I guess it could be because I’m always tired or have chronically cold feet that need the soft touch of a blanket to properly warm up. Maybe, it’s because I’m neither a morning person nor a night owl... which gives me a short five-hour window of daylight to enjoy life before I turn into a sluggy little guttersnipe.
 

There's no more sneaking out or coming up with excuses

When I was single, I was always called out by my friends for pulling the French exit and sneaking into an Uber at 11:30pm on a Friday night -- and I don’t blame them. Simply put, people just don’t believe you when you say you’re tired after you use that excuse for everything else in life.

Sure, it’s easy to use introversion as an excuse, but mostly I just think it’s nice to go home early and spend all night watching TV and eating rotisserie chicken in bed. Is that so bad? Eating rotisserie chicken in bed? I guess that’s the definition of being an introverted person.

Illustrated man in bed snuggling with a rotisserie chicken
GRANT KRATZER/THRILLIST

Being excited to go home together is beautiful

Everything changed, as most of my friends predicted. All the free time I used to have was suddenly converted into time I could spend with the human being who loves me and doesn’t mind physical contact with me. We discovered our shared dislike of nighttime through the act of simply asking one another, "Wanna go home?"

Unlike so many relationships, we never thought twice about the answers we’d give to each other and genuinely realized we just like being home in the wee hours of the morning as opposed to out at a bar. Being in a relationship gives you a lot of "built-in" things: best friend, advice, someone to split food with, someone to bounce ideas off of, and -- finally -- someone who justifies your sleepiness.
 

Trying to get laid no longer drives your nights out

When you’re in a relationship, you automatically have more say in matters than the lowly single chump who wants to rage on and go to that sweet bar in Bushwick that doesn’t open until 4am. We get it, you want to get laid -- that is where we differ -- I’m having sex no matter what.

Observers of the united couple might automatically (albeit incorrectly) assume it’s the woman who wants to ditch the bar for bed. It doesn’t matter -- use that knowledge to your power and you can remain confident that no one will question the decision at hand out of fear of stirring things up in the relationship.

Here’s what it all boils down to. Sure, I used to love going home to my television, chicken, and solitude. But now, I have someone I love and cherish. She’s my human-sized rotisserie chicken with whom I enjoy cuddling with as opposed to snacking on.

That’s why going home early is so great for me: I don’t have to stay out late chasing tail and I want to stay sober and alert so I can spend quality time in bed (chattin' or doin' it) with my partner. Plus, again, I don’t do coke.

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Jeremy Glass is a writer for Thrillist and really loves chicken.