My friends and I used to always go to the same club on a Friday night. We used to feel like we owned the place, we had a laugh there, some of my mates met their girlfriends/boyfriends there, and we were there in times of financial affluence and at times of financial peril. There was laughter, tears, high fives, fights, man-hugs; you name it, and we always went back because we felt part of the crowd, people saw us and were encouraged by our presence.

But - and this is a pretty big but ? I hadn?t been for a while, maybe about six months. I?d got engaged, moved quite far away and have changed my lifestyle dramatically. I was not the only one, my friends have also had some pretty big changes in the last few months, babies, engagements, new jobs, moving house, everything our parents said would happen.

After a few miserable emails and phone calls, we all decided it was time for a night out at ?our club?, so babysitters were booked, hotels arranged, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends and others were told ?don?t wait up? and we were set for a night out of titanic proportions?

Titanic was certainly the right word as it felt like we?d hit an iceberg. Walking into the club you?d have thought we were on wedding dance floor. Little ?kids? were running around, screaming clutching bottles of luminous blue liquid, the music was unrecognisable, the prices were crazy, their was pools of sick in each corner and people would not stop bumping into us, emptying the contents of their glasses over our backs. Worst of all; No one remembered us.

We spent a good few minutes cowering in the corner of the club, wondering what had happened to our legacy, and completely unsure about what exactly we were witnessing. It was like an oompa-loompa convention. Everyone was about a foot shorter than us, with hair like Amy Winehouse. The music was barely audible over the shrill voices of these seemingly, pre-pubescent 18 year-olds.

Building up the courage to move toward the bar, I felt like a giant walking through an ant-farm. The bar ?man? was younger than the stumble I?d grown that morning and made my day by referring to me as ?granddad?. Returning toward my friends, I could see they were feeling the same as I was; the confidence we once had was gone and each of us were wishing that we were ?snuggled? with our loved ones on the sofa watching repeats of ?Friends?.

We didn?t last long enough to have more than a couple of drinks but by that time, texts were getting sent to be picked up, hotel rooms were getting cancelled and I was calling the missus to get the bath run after my night of stress.

What happened to us happens to everyone I guess, I know that now I prefer the finer things in life, a glass of wine with a nicely prepared meal, as opposed to a pot noodle and a can of beer, a nice flat rather than a grotty student hovel, and not having to worry that the girl in the club your kissing was the one your mate saw throwing up about two minutes ago.

I spoke about this to my dad, who said the same happened to him when he was my age, he said ?something just changes, your priorities and requirements in life force you in to realising your not a kid anymore.?

I hate to say it, but I think he?s right.