Dirty Thirties
My twenties were amazing. And horrible. At the the same time. I lived in New York with no money, too many roommates (and roaches!), chasing my dreams and breaking my heart. Like most, I was riddled with insecurities, fearful of the future and flat broke, but, looking back, that was half the fun. My friends and I were undignified, inappropriate and a hell of a good time.
One particularly memorable night, while heading home, two guys pulled up asking one of my roommates and I to hang out. It was 3am. I think we all know what kind of “hanging out” they had in mind. After denying them several times and walking away only to be followed by their car, my friend, many drinks deep, blurted out, “You wouldn’t want to hang out with us we’re… we’re… THIR-TY!”
We were twenty-five. But, apparently the most offensive, repulsive deterrent she could think of at the time was that we were the big 3-0. Not married, gay, had boyfriends, infectious diseases… Nope. Thirty.
Fast forward ten years and we are well past thirty. Comfortably settled into our fourth decade, no longer roommates—those roles are reserved for our brave husbands and new little, milk-devouring, drool-drenched tenants— but still the best of friends.
We met up the other day for lunch and a play date. Navigating the streets with our strollers and fussy infants, was quite the departure from our previous hijinks. Still menaces to society, this time taking people out with our overly wide wheels instead of shaky heels. But not one look our way, at least not in an affectionate way. The glances were reserved for those of irritation or pity.
Me in my maternity jeans (Yes, still. They’re comfy! And I can eat more! Moving on…) with dirty hair and dark circles, her looking fantastic but with a 20lb. adorable appendage strapped to her front. Not necessarily the open invitation.
Neither one of us had trouble getting attention in the past. It wasn’t always from the highest caliber of suitor but it was attention nonetheless. Even when I was pregnant, a time you’d think I’d be at my utmost man-repellant-ness, I attracted a certain demographic. But now, a new mom and nada.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve never been less interested. Perhaps I’m just being kind to myself and my haggard looks.
Whatever the case, it appears my friend had it wrong all those years ago. She shouldn’t have said we were thirty, she should’ve said we were MOMS.