In our famous going-out years, we tried every combination of every alcohol on planet Earth. Sooner or later, all of it became boring to us, and the drink of our group became gin. Those were long ago and glorious times, when we didn't even need tonic. Give us whatever you've got — it can even be without a glass, let alone without tonic.
I remember one year in Vienna. Nina and I bought the cheapest gin we could find. The horror of that taste can only be compared to poison. We drank it without tonic. That gin travelled with us there and back and gave us some of the best drunken memories. Nothing from that trip stays in my memory as vividly as the bitter taste of gin that called us to dance and philosophical debates late into the night.
The drink of our group remained gin, but the group changed. Now we drink expensive gins, rarely, and always with tonic. Faceless and forgettable expensive gins with tonic will never leave the same impression as that cheap Vienna gin.
That's how growing up works. You no longer want someone holding your head above the toilet bowl at four in the morning, so you drink two overpriced cocktails and go home to shower and rest. You no longer analyze who flirted with whom while eating the tastiest, post-party burek.
I'm not saying this depressingly, and I'm not even saying it nostalgically. On the contrary, I actually like my "grown-up" life. I'm childish, and adulthood isn't really my thing — I mostly just gave up alcohol and nights out. I love going to restaurants and trying food and cocktails. I love spending evenings watching The Big Bang Theory with my boyfriend. I love board game nights, and sometimes I even love cooking and cleaning the apartment.
I don't want that time to come back. Only sometimes, when life gets hard, I wish I could once more drink that tonic-less Vienna gin with the same spirit, eat burek, sleep over at Maja's place, and laugh until sunrise about every adventure from our nights out while looking at the billboard we drunkenly stole in front of the cinema.