09.07.09
10:52 a.m.
I wore all black on Friday to mourn the loss of my twenties. They were awesome and will be sorely missed.
I'm officially 30. I've been in a funk about it for some time. Recall my obsession with a 23 year old boy? Yeah, that was a little bit of a mini midlife crisis. On Friday, my birthday, we spoke on the phone and in the middle of the conversation it just dawned on me that I am fucking out of my mind. A home-schooled Catholic boy? A 23 year old? What in the hell do we have in common? NOTHING, of course.I do still think he's adorable. However, it kinda clicked that it's not an appropriate relationship in any way, shape or form and I am no longer going to pursue the poor boy.
I sort of get the feeling that he feared for his soul when he was around me. I'm the devil tempting him to do immoral things. Though, I thought about those immoral things often, I would've never acted on them. Proof: I spent Saturday night in bed with a male friend - while I was completely drunk - and nothing more than sleeping occurred.
See. I'm virginal, too!
Anyway, now that the 'official' day is over, my anxiety about being 30 has subsided a bit. I'm grateful that nothing more than my mini boy toy crisis occurred. If you recall, when I had my quarter-life crisis at 25 I quit my job and went to college full-time. I had planned on 30 being much worse. I'm glad I didn't end up married to a Catholic boy, barefoot and pregnant with his Catholic baby.
Phew.
