31 on 30

Last week I celebrated my (ugh) 31st birthday. Though, not QUITE as dramatic as my 30th, it was still blog-worthy. For starters, I was suppose to have a birthday date. I had met a guy previously, and although I really didn't know him he said to me one day "hey, I would love to be at your birthday party if you're ok with that." I responded, "first of all, kitten, me sitting alone at a bar drinking whiskey is not a birthday party count." He laughed, like a good boy, and said he would be there.

If you're a fan of irony you won't like this next part. If you're a fan of the predictability and the horridness of my love life, then I probably don't even need to tell you what happened next. But, in case you aren't that smart, he was a no-call no-show. Around 9:45 I finally lost hope that he wasn't going to come. I remember, I was pretty drunk by that time and could feel the little tears starting to come to my eyes and I quickly and forcibly pushed them back. My birthday may not be a festival of fun, but I sure as hell wasn't going to cry over one more loser.

A few friends stopped by to say hi. Granted, they were going there anyway so nobody really showed up to see me specifically. Truthfully, I couldn't care less. I'm over so-so friendships, flakiness, and just people in general. I am just as happy sitting by myself as I am in a group of people. It is not embarassing to me nor is it something I'm proud of. I am alone, and there isn't any change in sight. It's just easier to accept it.

What gets annoying is people, younger and older, constantly asking me "why are you sitting alone?" Why aren't you? I've gone beyond wanting to tell people the story of how I ended up in Memphis at the age of 29, and that question generally is followed by that story. I get annoyed by the pity in their eyes and their voices as my solitude. It is very hard to make friends after this age. People are set in their ways and have too many things going on in their own lives to have time to really get to know someone knew. It's just the way it is.

If you make the decision to move somewhere alone at my age there is one thing YOU MUST be comfortable with and that is being alone. You have to be prepared to not have closeness and companionship for a while when you first move. It is scary and sometimes depressing. But the allure of being a new person in town is quite exciting. Once that wears off though, that loneliness hits like a bad cold on a January day. If you are not comfortable being alone, then it's not for you.

Why are so many women my age terrified of being alone? I don't understand it. Trust me, life is about 50 times more difficult for daily tasks. Hell, I've needed to have oral surgery for months and haven't been able to do it because I don't know anyone who can drive me back after anesthesia. If your car breaks down, you have to be prepared to spend an entire day in a shop to get it fixed. I'm not saying it's not an awesome thing to have someone in your life. But 1: don't take it for granted, I get sick of listening to people complain. And 2: I believe you need to learn how to be alone at some point, because life has a funny way of making you learn things you don't want to.

I find it reassuring that I, as a 31 year old woman, know not only what if feels like to be alone, but how to make being alone my bitch. However, here's hoping my date actually shows up to my 32nd birthday.

It's What's on the Outside that Matters

Yesterday, I came across a post in a Facebook group. It was posted by a girl who, although overweight to an extent, was actually very pretty. At least in my opinion. She stated that she had gone to a club with friend and was dancing and a man came up and started dancing with her. She was having fun until she realized that he and his friends were secretly making fun of her appearance, laughing and pointing. It had obviously hurt her feelings. Some ass-hat decided to post a comment saying something to the effect of "it's what's on the inside that counts and inside you're beautiful."

At first I thought "well, that's sweet." Then a second later I realized that no is is actually a horrible thing to say to someone. First of all, no, the inside very rarely counts for shit when you first meet an individual. What immediately attracts people is looks. You can be the most funny, intelligent, and amazing creature on the planet. It doesn't matter. You have to actually attract the person first. I'm sorry to ruin hopes that people in this world can see beyond that, but I am proof that they don't.

I didn't grow up very pretty. I was never asked on dates and my date to the prom is what I called a "pity-date." It wasn't until I became and adult, and lost over 70 pounds that I started to be considered pretty. I was suddenly being asked out by attractive men, and getting hit on at clubs all the time. It really confused me because I, like every other not-so-pretty girl, had been told that it was what is on the inside of your heart that really mattered. It is absolute horse shit. Looks count in every major aspect in life. Attractive people are considered for employment more often than those who may be more qualified.

What causes me to do face-palms the most isn't the fact that beauty is so regarded in this world. It's that we try to convince less attractive people that it isn't. I won't lie, when I was younger and naive I fell for that. Then, I grew up. I actually had a friend in high school who was the first to tell me the truth. I told her how ugly I felt and that I was just going to be alone because of it. She looked right at me and said, "someone will see past your looks to who you really are." At first, I was angry that basically she just agreed that I was ugly. Now that I'm older and wiser, I feel thankful that I had someone in my life who was honest.

I see pictures posted on social media of two individuals standing next to each other: one has some horrible genetic defect and the other is clearly a model. The caption underneath reads "like if you think both are just as beautiful." It absolutely disgusts me. You can't say one thing and do another.

My solution to this problem is simple: stop with the bullshit. It is condescending to someone who not only feels ugly, but has been told over and over again that they are to say such things. Be honest. If you were born less attractive than others you have to work twice as hard. Things will not come as easy to you, and you may not find prince charming. THAT hard work and determination despite a lack of blessings in the looks department is what is truly beautiful.

Chemistry Lesson

I remember an episode of Friends where during a blackout Rachel and Ross are talking about relationships. She realizes that she's never had such a connection with someone where the desire and chemistry was irresistible. She asks Ross, "do you think there are people who go through life never getting to feel that?" To which he replies, "probably." That dialogue has always stuck in my mind and I never knew why until very recently.

I've had passion and heat and all that, but I've never met someone where instantly the chemistry and heat was there and intense. That is until recently. I saw a guy from across the room. He was very tall, and talking to a girl much shorter than he. Every time I looked over their direction, she was talking and he was looking at me. I remember thinking how attractive he was, but kind of put it out of my mind. That is until he walked over and introduced himself to me. From the minute his face was two feet away from mine and I shook his hand I was intrigued. I felt sparks INSTANTLY. That has never ever ever ever ever happened.

Now, let me tell you about Audra and flirting; it's not pretty. I am a horrible flirt. In fact, one of my male friends told me once that my flirting is "different." It takes a highly intelligent man to pick up on it. And you can imagine how often that happens. But this guy picked up on it instantly. He complimented my eyes and said that was why he was staring at me. I normally don't hold eye contact when talking with someone but this time I did, and I felt comfortable with it. The conversation wasn't forced, I didn't feel self-conscious and within five minutes I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. That is not like me at all. It was the first time in a very long time I had felt anything.

The evening wound down and he walked me to my car. While there he asked me if he could kiss me. My brain was saying no, but my head instantly nodded yes as a girlish smile came across my face. So, he did. The sparks just got more intense. I've kissed a lot of men. And he is right up there at the top of the "Best Kissers" list. Holy hell, I was in trouble. For a few brief moments the type-A control freak I am lost complete control and enjoyed the moment.

I had to literally push myself away and get in my car to leave. I'm not the type of girl to go home with a stranger at all. As I drove home and when I woke up the next morning it was the first thing I thought about. I never thought heat and chemistry like that could ever happen instantaneously. That was a first for me. I ran off so fast I'm sure I left him a little stunned and confused. Hell, I was stunned. I'm not sure if I'll ever see that man again, but I can at least say that at least once in my life I got to feel that.

The Stages of Break Up Grief

Recently, my long distance boyfriend broke up with me. It was because of the distance (at least that's what he told me). However, it got me to thinking about my relationships in my 20's compared to now. What I've realized is that until JUST NOW I really haven't matured that much when handling break-ups. And this is one of those situations where I truly wonder if it's just me, or if every female does this.

There is always a little bit of denial when I get my heart broken. I'll say to myself "he's just mad, he'll call tomorrow" or "he'll realize he made a mistake." Though this has happened sometimes that denial is what drives my further actions. I usually try to bargain with the man, and to be honest, have humiliated myself in the process of doing this. This bargaining process can go back and forth for days or even weeks. And I think one reason this occurs is because men never like to completely slam the door in someone's face. I believe the little assholes like to keep their options open for future endeavors. This is something I really didn't catch on to until very recently. It was literally like a light bulb came on above my head and you could see the clarity suddenly in my face. Isn't is sad that a highly intelligent female didn't realize something so minimal until her 30's?

Generally sometime after feeling depressed and sad and pretty much like it was all my fault I eventually reach the point where I start to feel angry. I HATE anger. It is my least favorite emotion. In fact, I never properly learned how to convey anger. Anger forces me into the next and most important stage of action that many find questionable. I bail, like an inmate on a free pass. Out the door I go. I rarely can stay friends with someone I care very deeply for. I just am too selfish with my own feelings to do so. I have gone years without speaking to exes merely because it is the only way I know how to move on. Sounds a little childish? I don't think so. I just think I should do it much sooner after the demise of another fairy tale.

Mostly the people who tell me these actions are childish are the men themselves. Sorry, I don't feel the need as an independent adult to stick around and play childish games. I leave for a while, sometimes months, sometimes years. When I return and am finally able to speak to them again, I'm over it. When I decide I am done with something, there is absolutely no changing my mind. I can kill feelings very quickly and easily.

I am almost 31 years old and I have zero desire to play the games. I've been there, done that. If I am ever to be in another relationship (which will probably be a very long time from now) I'm not going to negotiate the way I have in the past. There are things I want, if you can not give them to me, please move on and don't waste my time with your emotional immaturity and inability to commit because "there might be something better" out there. I guess when you get to this point and you're my age, an amount of apprehension should be expected from the one you're courting. Cynicism should be tolerated, as well as the fact that you might just have to try a little harder.

I really am one bad relationship from a special order being placed for a crazy cat lady starter kit.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

While at an outing a few weeks ago a few people brought their children along. Now, these people are younger than me, not by more than 2-3 years, but still, younger. I felt that familiar, should I have had children earlier pain a little but I just ignored it and thought about how much fun I was going to have getting drunk later that night. Until....

One of the females has multiple children. She stated out loud (breaking my trance) "I'm so glad I didn't wait until 30 to have my children. I can be young enough to enjoy them and won't be too old for everything." That snapped me back into reality. Another one chimed in with agreement. I felt the red start to hit my face, but no one seemed to notice it or my meager existence in the world at that time. I personally did not choose to wait this long to have children. When I was a teenager I assumed that I would be 25 when I had my first child. I was planned out to the T. 25 came and went and prince charming still hasn't shown up for our date. However, there are SEVERAL people I know who have waited until their 30's to have children. In fact (gasp) some have decided not to have children at all.

I can't believe that we're in the 21st century and evolution hasn't caught up to society. By the age of 35 a women's fertility is decreased by almost half. The risk of miscarriage and several chromosomal abnormalities increases. It's punishment for deciding to wait to have children, or not just having the luck of having them yet. I also can't believe that there aren't more people I know waiting.

What I do know for sure is that I thoroughly enjoyed my twenties and am currently enjoying my thirties. I answer to no one, and I control my entire life. And right now, that works for me. There are those times when I look at families while at a restaurant or a store and wish I had that already. But, it wasn't in the cards for me. Us spinsters don't go around insulting your babies or your family with such snide remarks like "I can't believe you had ANOTHER one. So, be cautious when you speak out loud to people. If you can't do that, just make sure your feet are clean.

The Doctor Will See You Now

Remember the good ole' days when your mom would take you to the doctor, they'd knock on your knee with a little hammer to make you laugh? Then they'd put you up against a wall, take your height and say "my, how you've grown." You might end up with a little shot, but generally the smiling face of the nurse who hugged you afterwards would dry your tears instantly. They'd hand you a lollipop and you'd skip out of the office ready to get the ice cream your mom had promised to buy you if you were good. Yea, those fucking days are gone.

Once you get older a physical becomes more traumatizing than witnessing your dad put the presents under the tree at Christmas instead of Santa. I had one this week. First, they throw you on a scale. There's some good news. I always hate it when the medical assistant is able to guess my weight right away. Bitch, I don't look THAT fat. Then they take your blood pressure and if you're me, it nearly comes with a one-way trip to the local ER. I've worked in healthcare and besides that, I'm not a total idiot. Perky med assistant asked me, "well, how are you eating?" Look at me, does it look like I eat perfectly balanced meals? (At this point I should add that no one in that office found my smart-ass remarks even remotely humorous) Then they jab a needle into your arm, and draw about five tubes of blood out. Yea, it's really not that much, if you remembered to eat that day.

The doctor then goes through your family history. They're mostly dead, I don't know what they died of, but I'm guessing it wasn't of being awesome. She lectures you about your weight, your blood pressure, and your mere existence in this world. When my blood pressure came up, I kindly told her that I had gained some weight since moving to Memphis but was working on trying to lose it. She has no idea that I had lost almost 70 pounds before moving here so I know what to do to do it. She simply stated "yea, ok. I'm still going to give you some medications for it." Total lack in faith. She rattles off the list of terrifying stuff that "happens as you get older" and what she's going to test you for. Now, if you're lucky, you don't have to go back to your own private self-esteem killer for at least six months. If you're me, you're back in two weeks. There's no lollipop, instead you get a whole prescription pad filled with medications you have to start taking. Skipping out of the office is now replaced with a quick stroll, so you can get the hell out of there before you cry.

Though most people will roll their eyes, a physical after the age of thirty starts to become a scary thing. You know your youth is slipping away and you need to take better car of yourself. You remember when you use to make fun of your grandfather for complaining about his cholesterol and now you cringe when yours is not so spectacular. You start to think of yourself as less than invincible and total capable of collapsing under the list of illnesses that can be prevented by lifestyle change. And I, immediately felt the need to change my lifestyle completely. There are still a million and a half things I want to do before Mr. Christ calls me to the pearly gates. However, even when I get there, I'm sure he'll have a few lectures for me as well.

Recovery Time

This morning I woke up with a pounding headache. One of those that is so bad you can't even lift your head off of the pillow. I was nauseated, knew I needed to eat to raise my blood sugar but couldn't get my fat ass out of bed because my head hurt so bad. One major negative about being in your thirties is one night of drinking requires more recovery time than minor surgery.

I remember when I was in my early twenties I could stay out until four in the morning, slamming shots and beer. I'd get two hours of sleep and wake up and go to work. Sure, I didn't feel great, but I could make it. Now, if I drink more than three drinks of any type, I have to reschedule any plans I had for the next day. It's almost not even worth it to have those drinks. I never use to lose track of time or black out in my twenties, and now it has happened at least three times to me and I do not drink anymore than I use to. In fact, I drink a lot less. I love when my friends come up to me the next day and say things like, "all you could talk about last night was how Stephanie Tanner was your idol as a child." I generally have no memory of such conversations.

I'm single, I answer to no one. If I want to stay out all night pounding drinks I should be allowed to. However, my body does not give one fuck what I want. It thinks I should be a stay at home mom drinking one glass of chardonnay a night. It's quite depressing in fact. I find myself being more content sitting at home watching reruns of my favorite shows on Netflix than going out and living the single life. How the hell am I suppose to meet Mr. Right(now) sitting on the couch in my jammies?

If I could give advice to anyone in their twenties it would be to get it all out of your system, because the day you turn 30 you body flips a switch you never knew existed. I love to sit at bars and watch the twenty-one year old girls come in. They have one Smirnoff, maybe a shot of tequila and start yelling to their girlfriends about how much they love each other and love girl nights. Inevitably, one of those slutskies ends up in the passenger side of a car with some guy who "just wants to cuddle" for the night. It makes me smile and reminisce.

A few months ago I had a run in with such a group of girls. I was going to the bathroom and as I pushed the door open something stopped it. I could hear giggling inside so I pushed harder. This six-foot tall big ole' girl poked her head out of the door. She said, "we don't know you, but I guess we can let you in." I took a step back and lunged at the door with all my might, knowing it was going to take some force to take out this heifer. Once in, I looked up at her and said, "sweetie, this is a public restroom. I don't need your admittance." Her and her two twig-like friends hit the wall. I'm in the restroom and they go back to talking. It went something like this:
Dumb girl 1 - "Jake is probably going to text me tonight. I'm just not sure if I want to see him."
Dumb girl 2 - "You know you'll get drunk and go over to his house if he asks. How long have you been seeing each other?"
Dumb girl 1 - "A while now. He says he isn't ready for a relationship..."
at this point I butt in because I need to impart some wisdom
Me - "Let me guess, he only calls you late at night and any texts you send during the day get short answers?"
Dumb girl 1 - "He works a lot and he really likes me. He's just scared."
Me - "You're a booty call. That's it. Have a nice night."

That is one thing I don't miss about my twenties. Sitting in a bathroom with my girlfriends over-analyzing and over-dramatizing some little shit-head's behavior. If I did that now my friends would smack me upside the head. And I would do the same for them. If there's one thing I know about men it's this: if he wants to be with you, he's going to make it happen. End of story. Yes, I still wish I had the tolerance and the stupidity to do body-shots and dance on a table at times. However, I can sit in a bar by myself and enjoy a drink without the insecurity of needing three fake friends to accompany me. Nonetheless, I now need those friends to insert and IV and administer a fluid bolus the next day. That's no fun...

Am I the Only One?

When I turned 30 it must have been like watching a surprise party for a cat: everyone is excited, but the cat just ends up sitting in a box the whole time, occasionally looking at flies on the wall. I had exactly five people show up to my birthday (before the cops did, but I'll get to that later) and all were married, with children. Thus, they had to be home at a certain time. Also, they were all bartenders I had gotten to know as I moved here. Grateful to have friends there, yes I was. Grateful to be turning 30, hell-to-the-negative. It wasn't exactly the ho-down I was looking for.

Not going to lie, I was depressed. Here I was, 30 and single. I had accomplished none of the things I had hoped by that time. Well, I had accomplished one: moving out of Indiana. But, that was it. I felt bad because I eventually drank enough to disarm my feelings and tell people I was depressed. They felt bad, but didn't and COULDN'T understand what that felt like. Then, the cops were called because someone there had a warrant out for their arrest. Indeed, the fun-filled evening had ended.

What did hit me the most the next day was how much faster my thirties were going to go compared to my twenties. See, your twenties are all about self-discovery. No one goes into this period knowing exactly who they are and what they want to be. That's what your twenties are for. Well, that and having the best tolerance ever for alcohol and bullshit. I get on Facebook daily and see pictures of the people I grew up with. They show photos of their children going off to school, new houses and DIY projects that I neither have the patience or finances to complete. I wonder, am I the only one?

Am I the only one who has somehow managed to escape the cliche that you need a man and a family to be "successful?" At first, I believed yes. But now, as I'm approaching my 31st birthday I am learning that I get to live a life and experience things in a way that my peers never will. I am also learning that people treat you differently as a single, thirty-something female. And finally, I am learning that simple-minded people sometimes need to be put in their place. That is what I will continue to write about, as well as challenging the ideals I held in my twenties.