The incoherent thoughts of a twenty-something
I think about it. I do. I’ll admit it. I think I’m old enough to think about it and consequently blog about it. I’m 28, will be 29 in a little over three months, and I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.
One of my friends from high school emailed today to announce that she and her husband are expecting their first child. In the midst of my happiness, I felt a pang of jealousy. Everyone else is having kids or adopting kids or being grown-up and here I am, unattached and watching Justin Timberlake thrust around at the VMAs (I mean, how can I turn down a man who offers to let me whip him if he misbehaves?).
I don’t date. I find it a waste of my time and his. That’s not to say I don’t think dating is necessary or important. It is, to a degree. But really, who has the time and drive to spend an hour or two with someone you probably won’t see again when you could be at home doing laundry, paying your bills, or catching up on your Tivo.
What’s a girl to do in a world where all the good men are either gay or married? What’s a girl to do when a guy’s idea of sweet talk is to shout, “HEY BABY!” as you leave the grocery store completely weighed down with goods? Or when most guys indicate that they prefer the ideal that is becoming more and more “common” and expected?
I’d rather be single, thank you. Even though I’d rather be single, it doesn’t stop the thoughts. Lately I’ve been going through the process of serving myself reality checks of the give-up-already variety. There are just some things I know will never happen in my life. I hate saying goodbye, I hate giving up on hope and dreams and all that idealistic bullshit. It’s hard. It’s hard when the thoughts won’t go away and when I’d rather just lose myself in them. Sometimes I let myself because these days, it’s like a rare treat to get so far into the thoughts that it all seems possible again.
Then reality knocks on the door and I go back to watching Justin Timberlake. I mean, a girl has to have fantasies, right?