I put on a pair of yoga pants tonight and realized I’ve had them since 2002.

One of the longest relationship I’ve ever had is with elastic-waist lounge wear. (Actually that is pretty apropos considering my commitment to lazing.)

Meanwhile, today in Facebook updates:

  • friend living in Hawaii with 3 kids
  • friend vacationing abroad with almost 3 kids
  • friend purchasing 2nd home

5 years ago these friends had 0 homes and 0 kids.

But 5 years ago I had my yoga pants and I still do. So that’s…something?

(Wo)Man Up

I am facing an epidemic of p-word men. Men are not supposed to be high maintenance. Go drink your scotch and grunt somewhere. I have enough time keeping myself together, I can’t worry about stroking your ego.

The past week has featured two separate p-word situations. I’m sitting back and observing, because I am not going to jeopardize my content solo life surrounded by pets and pillows if I’m expected to put in work before the first date even happens.

Scene #1: OkCupid

Message exchanges begins and goes very well. Witty, casual, shared interests. Without fail, responds within 15 minutes of every message, but reliable is nice sometimes.

Then comes: “Not sure if this is too forward, but I thought maybe you might be open to chatting on text. Here is my number if that’s ok with you.”

You’re not asking for a kidney. Just exchange the numbers and carry on.*

Accidentally on purpose I text a few days later.

“Oh it’s so great to hear from you. I assumed I had been too forward and felt bad for giving you my number.”

If he feels bad about giving me a phone number can you imagine the trauma if he was late to dinner one night?

Needless to say, he has not mustered the courage to schedule a date. He has referenced his diet and the gym on more than one occasion. I even know where his gym is located. And I know what he bought at the grocery store to “keep it tight. Girls don’t want any roundness.” I was not aware of that but fine.

He has referenced things we could do on a date:

What kind of food do you like? If we went on a date, I’d need to know.

Yet, no dates. And I’m neither holding my breath nor keeping it tight in anticipation. I’m keeping it cheese.

Scene #2: I didn’t meet this guy online.

I repeat: I DID NOT MEET THIS GUY ON LINE.

Automatic first place. A real person interesting enough in real life to exchange numbers/accept my number thrust at him.*

Except then the multiple texts by the time I got home from the bar.

“I’m so grateful we talked. I’m just kicking myself for not having the courage to come up to you myself and talk”

(Pro-tip: Avoid revealing weakness and lack of self-confidence in the first text. Really, withhold all emotions until the 6 month mark, and even then save the gratitude for things like pizza.)

He did manage to set up a date relatively soon, and follow up without assuming my scheduling issues were an outright rejection. Unfortunately the actual planning of the date involved multiple messages requiring multiple 3/3 screens worth of text. No restaurant in the zip code was left unsuggested. I seriously almost cancelled, nervous he would pee his pants when I walked in the door.

Once we met up we really had a nice time. No sarcasm. He was gentlemanly, easy to talk to, and lighthearted. A red flag or two but a good time. He went along with petty bar theft and wanted to bet on football. He wins and his prize was a 2nd date with me. Adorbs! Flirtation AND Gambling.

Get home and again a text from him. This time assuring me that he wants a second date but he wants me to know I don’t really have to follow through with the bet if I don’t want to because I shouldn’t ever have to do anything I don’t want to do but it would be really nice to go out again because (^&@&^#$%*&)^$@()!*&^#$.

I assured him I’d be happy to go out.

Few days later I ask how the rest of his weekend was.

“Saturday was the highlight. I had sweet dreams all night after meeting a wonderful lady: you! I hope to be able to relive the night.

And no date request since then.

I’ll go out with him again, despite risk of barfing. But a 44 year old needs to figure out on his own how to ask for a 2nd date without reciting a sonnet.

I don’t do high maintenance. No one should have to. Sexist or not, you need to man up.

*Just ask for my number. Seriously. Don’t make me do the work!!

+0

I saw this article this morning right on the heels of getting a guest-free invite to one of my closest friends’ weddings. In another state. On the weekend something else major in my life is happening.

The comments I read on this article were almost universally outraged. It’s the bride’s day! It’s not about you! Suck it up for a day! An extra person is so expensive!

All of which are true. And I’m not going to go through and dispute the anti-guest reasons as the article does that well. But I still don’t want you arbitrarily deciding whether I get to come to your wedding with a guest.

Why are you having a wedding if you don’t want to have your friends around having fun? And why does etiquette tell you it’s ok for me to be forced to show up alone but you have to invite a girl you’ve met twice because she’s living with your friend? I get that you don’t want a random person at your wedding and in your pictures, but I’m pretty sure the people whose wedding I was at in 2005 because I was seriously dating their friend aren’t happy I’m in those pics, yet they weren’t going to not give him a +1 because maybe we would break up some day.

I’ve never had a serious boyfriend at the time of a friend’s wedding so it’s sort of always been a bonus when I got a +1, and I’ve never taken taken a date anyway. But this invite came and I was capital P Pissed. There are 10 of us who are all really close and vacation together several times a year. 8 of us are married or in a long-term relationship; it’s already kind of getting to a point of discomfort when we’re all together, and this only emphasizes it.

If you’re 25, 26, even 30, that’s one thing. There will be a lot of single people at that event. That’s where your “making out with the bridesmaids” options fall. But when you’re 35, it’s a different story. First (and only) of all, we’re adults. There aren’t 5 of us carpooling and sharing a hotel room anymore. If I don’t have a date, I’m going to get to the wedding alone, stay alone, sit alone during slow songs, and go back to my room alone. All those married people with kids will chortle about how they haven’t been up this late in years(!) and go to bed right after the reception.

There’s a 50% chance your marriage won’t even work out, and you’re the one deciding whether my relationships are significant enough to bring someone with me? The fact is I’m not going to bring a random person to your wedding, but I should be able to choose, and you should be considerate enough to give me that choice.

PS:¬† They’re actively encouraging CHILDREN¬† to attend this wedding. So a date for me is too much of an inconvenience, but go ahead and bring your small, drunk humans.

Bitter or?

There comes a time in every young girl’s life where she has to look herself in the mirror and answer a question. (No, not “do I actually look cool in aviators” or “am I too old to wear this cutout dress”)

Am I getting bitter or are people just terrible?

You may remember my thoughts on bitterness from previous musings such as “I no longer care my friends are pregnant” or “no I don’t want to get in on the gift card to help the person having kids he can’t afford” or even “how dare you not invite me to your child’s 2nd birthday party even though I’ll just complain about being obligated to go.”

Here are a few recent for instances that had me wondering if it’s not me, it’s you:

  • a family of 3 sisters has a combined 11 children under the age of 7ish. They were actually pretty well behaved but still required the collective attention of all 6 parents and all strangers in the rows surrounding then. Why do you have so many children?! You don’t need free labor for a farm!
  • Teenagers. The end.
  • friend’s fb posts increase exponentially now that she has a boyfriend. Stage 1: Oh he seems like a nice guy. Good for her. Stage 2: wow there’s a lot of pics from her now but that’s sweet that they’re taking all these trips. Stage 3: um that’s not a trip, that’s the lobby of your apartment. Stage 4: No, you don’t have to post just one more!! Stage 5: STFU.
  • Engagement photos are dumb
  • YOUR CHILD’S NAME IS NOT A HASHTAG!!!!

I’m super jealous of my parents’/grandparents’ generation. Sure they had to use a phone book and might never get to find out who that guy was in that movie without google, but they only had to deal with other people’s annoying lives once a year in holiday cards. And they could make fun of them at the bar they went out to after they put the kids to bed, because that’s what parents did then. The real good old days.

Things People with Kids Say that Make Their Childless Friends Stabby

  • Yes! Babypalooza!
  • But let’s talk about [pregnant person], how are you feeling?
  • 7pm is a little late to go out
  • Anything about breasts
  • You’re invited to [child’s] birthday party!
  • I’m not drinking tonight (aka I’m pregnant again)
  • Wow, you slept in till 9 am? 6 am is a treat for me since I have so much to do! Ha. Ha.
  • Well your [hair, hips, privates, wardrobe] will never be the same once you have kids!
  • Maybe instead of going out in the city you just want to come over here?

Wah Wah*

Two of my very good friends have had babies in the past few weeks.

I don’t care.

I don’t want to see pictures, I don’t want to know anything about it.

I’m not an anti-kids person. There was a time I teared up over every pregnancy announcement. Siblings of friends, coworkers, high school classmates. I was buying baby gifts for every occupied uterus within a 5 miles radius, weeping through the baby clothes racks. (That reminds me: at no point in my downward spiral did I get tired of joking about babies wanting a “womb with a view.” That shit is timeless)

I’m just out of energy for being happy for other people. I hate being disinterested. I hate being the bitter, pitied single person. I hate being too selfish to care about other people’s milestones over my loneliness. But anymore, engagements and births aren’t exciting milestones to share with my friends–they’re an express ticket to adult life, where there are no openings for those of us who sleep past 7am on a Saturday and eat Combos for dinner.

Early on, people with babies tried to keep up with the childless, but then a) those people had a second kid and/or b) the parents hit critical mass and outnumbered us. Now if I want to see my friends it either has to be an event that ends at 9pm or the kids have to be invited, and if the kids are invited it’s fine, but I’m the only one without a kid and people ask why I’m at the event when I don’t have kids.

Older childless people I know have recommended literally getting an entirely new set of friends if I hope to maintain any social life. I haven’t made a new friend in 10 years!! Babies are going to force new friends on me!??

*the sound of both me and a baby whining