HAPPY NEW YEAR!
…she begrudgingly typed into the computer on February 28th. It’s true that we at The Struggle have disappeared once again. Sorry my sweet friends. I was on a month long production in LA which means that my hours were crazy, I completely fell off the wagon with my workout routine, and I was able to sneak off with Whit multiple times to eat crispy rice salad while attempting to not fall asleep from pure production induced exhaustion.
My project wrapped on Friday the 17th so I decided to stay in LA over the holiday weekend. After four solid weeks of production I kicked off my wrap with a five hour karaoke session alongside Whitney and some of our friends. While the karaoke was just what I needed to unwind, the subsequent Jamo (when did we start calling it this – I hate it) and ginger hangover on Sunday kicked off a shame spiral so deep that I almost forgot I was hungover. But then the nausea hit, and the spins, and the oh dear god I’m going to die I’m serious sweet angels above if you cure me I will never sin again-pleading.
This is when I had my very own Jewish version of Come to Jesus – come to Moses? – realization about my age. I’m about 3½ months out from 30 and I can FEEL it. I know age aint nothin’ but a numbah but said number is climbing and I am not the sprite 21 year old I once was. It got me thinking about the last decade and the changes I’ve been through, for better or worse. I’m so happy in my life but sometimes still shocked at how much has really changed in the last decade. I’m sure that right now you’re thinking some combination of:
- Duh, you’re 10 years older. Of course things have changed
- Seriously, this is the most obvious thing ever
- Please write better blog posts
- Is today over yet?
- Did I turn off my straightener?
- Shit, I really don’t know if I turned off my straightener
- Someone should invent an app that reminds you turn off your straightener
- I’m going to steal this straightener idea
And to this I respond – please don’t steal my straightener idea, I may have just struck gold. Also, yes it’s obvious that a lot has changed over the past decade as this is one of the most basic truths about life: things and people and situations (and weight) change over time.
So without further ado, here’s a list of shit I am too old for. Thanks for the inspiration Roger Murtaugh.
1) Overwhelming and false declarative statements about drinking
I am never drinking again is one of my most uttered phrases. Normally it’s whispered between gulps of red Gatorade and shameless gluten consumption on the cold floor of a bathroom. I don’t have a drinking problem; I have a not knowing when to STOP drinking problem. At the end of the day I am not an alcoholic, I rarely drink more than once every week or two, and I have never been someone who needs a glass of red wine to unwind from a stressful day. I drink socially and for celebration but I am recognizing that I need to cool it a little. While I’m not going to go cold turkey, my plan is to be much more mindful of how much I consume. Nothing good happens after 4 drinks. Nothing.
2) Going on dates with guys who don’t at least offer to pay for my drink
I am a feminist through and through. I always offer to pay for drinks and am fine splitting the bill. It’s empowering. But a guy not even offering? That’s messed up and you KNOW it Kirk. I like fancy meals as much as I like dollar tacos and I can appreciate a nice cocktail in the same way I’ll drink a rum and coke at a dive bar in Bushwhack. I don’t need fancy – I just need an attempt. Try and wow me just a little bit dudes.
And to clarify, offering to pay for a pickle back shot at the end of a two hour date does NOT count as an attempt at romance. Seriously Kirk: you’re 30.
3) Wiping the slate: Makeout Edition
At one point in my 20’s I developed the mindset that if I had a dating mishap, I needed to actively wipe my slate clean. For instance, if I went on a bad date I would need to go on more dates until I proved to myself I could go on a good date. If I kissed someone and they made their tongue into a weird point and jabbed at my teeth for 20 minutes*, I needed to have a romantic kiss in the rain at sunset. You get the point.
Here’s the problem with that mindset: it meant that for every bad date I was setting way super lame expectations on the next date(s). Instead of meeting someone new to potentially grow a relationship with, I was meeting someone new who I hoped wouldn’t grope me in Roberta’s after making a bad Jewish joke*. I don’t need to clean the slate – I just need to date and hope for the best.
* Both real. Both disappointing.
4) Sleeping on a couch
I’m not saying I’ll never sleep on a couch again but as a rule, I think I’m ready to move past that point in my life. My old bones need a couple firm pillows, a pillow top, and a box spring for me to really function the next day.
You know what’s worse than waking up with a brutal hangover? Waking up with a brutal hangover while wedged between two couch cushions, struggling to breathe because you’ve wrapped yourself in a throw blanket, and trying to stand up without knocking over a coffee table covered in whatever leftover food and/or drinks are still camping out from the night before.
5) Uncomfortable shoes
Nope. I live in a city where my iPhone informs me I’m walking a minimum of two miles a day. I’ve done enough hobbling in painful, cheapo flats to last me a lifetime and I am ready to walk away from that life (high five for puns!). I am prone to a special type of foot ailment my roommate likes to call “bubblewrap feet” and yeah, no explanation needed.
Alternatively, I need to stop buying expensive shoes without trying them on in the store. I always do the quick shuffle to the mirror, check to see if my legs look good, check to see if the only hot guy in the store is looking my way, etc, etc. But I rarely do the more important shoe test. If I’m going to buy a pair of nice shoes I need to be able to haul ass to the train in filthy Manhattan while carrying an oversized gym bag, a shopping bag, 2 grocery bags, and whatever jacket I left at work the week prior during a heat wave. So if you see me sprinting across the Frye store in Soho – you’ll know what’s up.
6) Dating dumb dumbs
I’m currently preparing a document for Betsy DeVos that showcases the astonishing amount of dudes on Tinder and Bumble that can’t use the correct version of there/their/they’re or to/too/two. I used to think “hey” was the most offensive opener on a dating app but have come to realize that “hey their” is much worse.
I am not the smartest woman in the world but I can hold a conversation. Please be able to do the same. (Also in the process of writing this I misspelled “write” 3 times so maybe I’m the problem? No, no. It’s them.)
7) Music Festivals
I went to Gov Ball in 2015 for the first and last time. Listen, I get the music festival thing. Where else can you wear a ton of glitter and show off your new nipple piercings while simultaneously trying an exciting new drug cocktail that definitely won’t kill you while drinking $15 dollar beers while an ex frat boy who totally has your best interest in mind mouths along to a 12 minute Black Keys set?
The answer is nowhere my friend. But it’s not for me. A friend of mine recently brought me to a Tove Lo concert on a Wednesday night and I’m pretty sure the median age was 12½. See that glowing pink and blue picture above? Right in the middle you may notice a giant, illuminated vagina adorned with a cross. I’m good. Sometimes I want to go to a concert and sit. Sue me. (But actually please don’t sue me because I’m pretty busy and don’t have a freelance gig lined up and am super interested in this volunteer thing I’m working on right now, so…)
I’M OLD CHELS!