I do not think 41 is old.
I already attend a poetry workshop where I am the youngest member. My good friend, Jack, is 68 and retired. I attend Stamping workshops every month with my mom, which is very fun, but all the other women already have husbands and children. So now I’m joining a book club with only one male member (who is probably either married or 73) and I’m just saying that maybe there are some single people between the ages of 28-38 who don’t feel like “showing me their grill” (seriously, have you guys heard that song?) and spilling their drink down my cleavage! Is it so much to ask? Doesn’t anybody sit around and read books and bake & eat massive quantities of food anymore?? What about board games…can we play Scrabble…or even Trouble…hell, I’ll even play Monopoly! Can’t we take a walk in the Metroparks without fearing that we sound too much like a personal ad (likes to take long walks through the woods...)? I promise I won’t hold your hand…I won’t even walk next to you if you don’t want.
Honestly, I don’t mind AT ALL that my best friends are my parents and my aunt and cousins who are all my mother’s age. In fact, I love it because they understand me and we always end up laughing…which happens to be my most favorite thing to do. And I think this outburst is stemming from the fact that I just watched “Pride and Prejudice” three times after having read it about five, and I’m convinced that there is no Mr. Darcy for me and I am going to be an old maid with maybe some cats and dogs and some kids that I conceived through artificial insemination.
And I love all my friends who ARE my age, but my need for a shift is overriding my want for a night of intoxication and dancing with strange men in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I want something. Else.
And while I’m listing the things that I want, I might as well go ahead and tell you that I want Lent to be over right. now. Because I want a double cheeseburger with no onion from McDonalds. I’ve been wanting one for awhile now and just thinking about it makes my mouth water. I have a new appreciation for Pavlov’s dog. I’d like to think his name was something special…like Bert.