20nothing.com

last night i went to a house warming for a friend who i went to school with.

she’s about 4 months older than i am and seems to have it all sorted out. she has the doctor boyfriend, the house, the mortgage, the puppy (who’s freakin adorable, but that’s another story) and the pathway towards becoming a wife, a mother, a great person… an adult.

i knew this wasn’t my party when one of her “married couple” friends arrived and announced that she had brought a plant as a gift. “It’s an indoor plant” she commented. Not only did I not know that there was a difference between an indoor and outdoor plant, the only gift that I had brought was a packet of chips, which I had stolen from my friend who drove us there. “Oh god,” my friend said as we stood back from the group and watched in amazement “the Freedom catalogue has come alive”.

i came home from the party (early, thank you!) to have a chat with a mexican friend of mine i haven’t seen in a long time who now lives in mexico city. he’d noticed on facebook (sometimes i hate the internet) that since my breakup i’d been doing a lot of partying.

“are you sure you’re not partying too hard?” he said to me in an accent that cannot be communicated through the written word. this is the guy who used to serve me fish bowl sized drinks and flaming shots that saw me end my night either in the bathroom or sitting on the side of the road eating pizza… he started me on my party path. He was Victor Frankenstein to my monster, but instead of flipping the switch, he handed me a flaming Lambourghini and gave me stamps all up my arm. I questioned how he, the purveyor of partying could have changed his tune… “Well I grew up.” he said to me. It was saturday morning over there, about six am and he had been up the whole night, not out partying, but sitting home listening to jazz and drinking a 2005 cab-merlot.

I went to bed and tried to sleep, but couldn’t, “am I 23 going on 19?” I thought to myself. I knew that I had been partying pretty hard since I was no longer involved, but wasn’t it just a stage? and if it was, was it time to move on? at what point do you say to yourself “hey, go get a girl, get your life on track and while your at it, steal that really cool puppy from the party”.

i don’t want a mortgage. i don’t want a house. i’m quite happy living in a rented premises. i spend my life either working or hanging out with friends (and yes, sometimes partying with them). When i’m home, i’m asleep or resting, or catching up on work. i’m quite happy with being on my own for the moment although i do get a little lonely – something fixed with the invention of blackberry messenger. and yeah, i like to party, but i know that if you go out on friday night and saturday night and sunday night, you’re not going to be well on monday. all weekend partying is for special occasions….. like the beginning of a new month. but some saturdays i’m home by 10.30 and some i sit at a coffee shop playing cards and drinking…. coffee till 1.30am.

as i lay in my bed pondering whether or not i was living up to my age i realised that the fight that was going on in my head as to what was right and what was wrong was something quite new for me….

it was adult.

post by dtm