I’ve been 23 for ten months now, and all the shit I freaked out about has happened.
This is how 23 has felt so far. Photo courtesy of BlogHer.com.
In ten months, I’ve managed to:
-get my first big girl job
-find a love that I deserve
-model in a runway show in Chicago
-receive affirmation that my first book idea is a “good one” and at least one major group would be interested in funding it
-accomplish more than I ever thought I could accomplish in a year, let alone ten months
#23til23 and its aftermath has been pretty awesome.
It’s that time of the year where Christmas songs blast on the radio non-stop. Usually I’m caught up in the Christmas magic as soon as Halloween ends. Maybe it’s because we sort of skipped Halloween this year thanks to Sandy, or maybe it’s because I’m feeling extremely sentimental and bitter this year, but i just haven’t been feeling the Christmas magic.
I put up my tree last weekend, and I’m still (slowly) decorating it. I bought a bunch of non-denominational holiday cards to write out to each of my students, but I’ve yet to start filling them out. I’ve lazily sent people my university mailing address for holiday cards, but I realized today I probably won’t get any cards that are sent there after December 21st (not because the world is going to end, but because the post office shuts down for winter break). (I’ll be sending out a messaging revoking my address and giving people my parents’ address so I don’t feel awful about not receiving a holiday card in a timely manner. You all will probably be getting New Years cards from me.)
This was from a few years ago, but the sentiment’s still the same: I love torturing my dog. He puts up with a lot. Ho ho ho.
Maybe it’s just my single ass noticing this, but does it seem like the amount of couples and lovey-dovey crap has infinitely increased in the past 2 weeks? My Facebook newsfeed seems to be flooded with new relationships, engagement announcements, news of couples expecting an addition to their uber-cuteness (in both real baby and fur baby formats), and first house purchases. If my newsfeed is any indication, the economy is definitely picking up because people are leaping into big, committing purchases like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve seen more photos of new houses, new rings, new cars, new dogs, and new baby stuff in the past few weeks than I have all year.
You’re probably reading this and thinking, “Oh great, another bitter single girl bitching about life. Why can’t she just be happy for people?” If that’s the case, you’re probably coupled off, have children, aren’t in grad school, and aren’t the token single friend in your circle of friends. You probably haven’t gone from being surrounded by other bitterly single people to being the last one standing, and you probably don’t have to feign interest as people shamelessly ramble about meeting the parents/ how s/he put a rock on it/ baby names/ dog names/ blowing off family during the holidays for a romantic getaway.
I know I sound bitchy, and I’m perfectly fine with it if you’re rolling your eyes at me. For those of you who know me, you know I’m a chronic first dater. I’ve gone on countless first dates in the past year, and I’ve rarely made it to a second date. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I don’t want to be the one making all the effort. I usually arrange the first date, text for date confirmation, text a follow up message saying how I had a nice time, and send the obligatory smiley face agreement after I get a text back saying we should get together again. Then I wait. If I arranged the first date, the second one is in your ballpark. (I also don’t want to set a precedent and be the only one communicating early on in the dating game. That could be a problem if something were to come out of our dating.)
Despite all my issues with dating, I really do want to be partnered off. I want to meet a girl, not necessarily the girl of my dreams (although that would be nice), but a girl who has potential of being in a committed, long-term relationship with me for at least a few years. In an idealistic world, I’d meet a girl in a bookstore. She’d sweep me off my feet, buy me coffee, and the rest wold be history. I wouldn’t make the mistake of jumping into the lesbian cave immediately (I’m looking at you, friends who I haven’t heard from in months because you’re wrapped up in coupledom!), and I’d insist on maintaining separate identities. Even when I do eventually get married, I never want to be Kailynn-and-Enter-Wife’s-Name-Here. I want to be Kailynn and occasionally her wife’s name here. I’m 22 years old. I turn 23 next month. While I haven’t really talked about the number 23 much here (yet), it’s a significant birthday for me. In the next few years, ideally I’ll get my own place, get married, start a family, and get a dog. Until then, I’m stuck being bitter, the token single friend, and (with a rare perk of being single at Christmas time) having more money to spend on myself.
Happy holidays, folks! How many of you are sick of the Christmas lovey-dovey crap?