It’s a common assumption that I am younger than I actually am. Which is twenty-eight. I look younger and, to be honest, I feel younger than that. I’m not certain precisely what twenty-eight should feel like, but my working theory always used to be that kids or plans for kids were involved at that point.

(Thank God they’re not at present.)

I know that twenty-eight is supposed to feel grownup, but it is a difficult concept for me to grasp. And yet when I was asked if I would be interested in “grownup drinks” last night, I was happy to answer in the affirmative.

I am a creature of cozy, of beers (or, with increasing regularity as of late, pinot grigio) and jeans, and most of my friends are the same. I like it that way. It’s comfortable. The prospect of a chance to switch to martini glasses and heels, resultingly, made me feel giddy and, well, beautifully grownup.

I received a text in the evening that told me to “get fancy” quickly, as the night would soon begin. At the time, I was sitting on my couch in hot pink silk pajama paints and fresh-out-of-the-shower hair.

“How fancy?”

“A ballgown would be overdressed.”

The sender was clearly male. I mean, there’s dress pants fancy and there’s “I’ll deal with potentially icy sidewalks for the sake of rocking these heels” fancy. There’s South End fancy and there’s “rest of Boston” fancy. So I laughed, called him a jerk (naturally) and got ready without knowing precisely where we would be headed.

As it turns out, our little band of three made our way to Top of the Hub. I was thrilled, as this has been an item right near the top of my MicroVation List. Besides, if you’re going for a fancy feeling, you can’t ask for a better backdrop than the city of Boston spread out before you on a brilliantly clear night.

It was delicious: the cocktails, the food (margherita pizza, creme brulee), the jazz band, the service and the city. I wanted to savor it all. And I did.

Absolutely delicious. If this is grownup, at least on occasion, I certainly enjoy the concept.

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