After fifteen years of parties neither of us wants to go anymore

We had the conversation on a Wednesday, on the couch, halfway through a frozen pizza. He said it first. 'I don't actually want to go on Saturday. I don't think I've wanted to go in about a year.' And I sat there and realized I'd been white-knuckling Saturdays for about the same amount of time. Fifteen years in the scene. Started in our late twenties at house parties in Brooklyn. Moved through clubs in Berlin, the Cap a few summers, the regular crew in Manchester. Hundreds of scenes. A dozen friendships that still matter. We're both 40s, no health stuff, sex life between us is actually decent. It's not the body, it's the appetite for the social part. The performing. The texting in advance, the photos, the playlists, the small talk at the bar. The pizza was cold by the time we finished talking. Neither of us made another. We just went to bed. Anyone come out of a long break and back into it changed.