Thursday, September 29, 2005

Maybe it is pathetic. But I'm still not over him after almost 9 months. I get disgusted with the idea of him sometimes, so maybe that's progress. I am also, however, disgusted with the prospect of dating, touching, engaging or becoming physical with any man except for Jason on General Hospital. Which doesn't really sound like progress, but more like one of my crazy aunts who sleeps with a cheese knife under the mattress and is in love with Mario Lanza, who still croons to her from an LP. I am after all, at age 35, the propper age to be inducted into into the old maid trainee program. Which I guess is OK because I think once you're a member, you're allowed to blow up like a house and watch a lot of lifetime television, and that suits me just fine. It sounds almost as good as my Camp Cupcake fantasy, in which I can both get even with my ex and catch some rent-free R&R. But living in NYC you can't really progress by those traditional aging standards. Eligibility requirments to become an 'old maid' is up to like, 82. All the would-be members are taking strip aerobic classes, revealing their never distended belly buttons, still holding on to the hope that they'll meet a nice divorcee. Just like me. But I'm almost ready to retire. My ex constantly reminded us that "40 is the new 30." So why, still, am I uncomfortable with the fact that each day that passes since my 35th birthday brings me closer to the big 4-0? I mean Demi Moore is great and all, but honestly I just don't have the energy anymore, you know? I mean I'm a normally aging 35 year old. I have forehead wrinkles and a bursitis.

As a sidenote, if he said that 40 is the new 30, does that mean he couldn't date a 22 year old because she'd really only be 12?

Monday, September 26, 2005

Well, this past Saturday would have marked our 6th year anniversary. Since we started dating, that is. Most people don't get to celebrate the anniversary of their first meeting. They have to settle for boring wedding anniversaries. Not me! Now that I think about it, that seems a little pathetic; celebrating another year that'd gone by where he successfully avoided marriage and that I successfully hung in there without a commitment. And to tell you the truth, he was the one who made such a big deal with the sappy card every year; I would always be one day off.

Since he left the relationship with pretty much no (rational) explanation-a few nuggets- "Happiness just isn't enough for me...I just don't want a girlfriend anymore ...sooo, do you need cab fair?", I couldn't help wondering if I would recieve a call from the most recent ghost of boyfriends past. I mean, he always came back before!? Ouch, I know that was pathetic.

Anyway, I'm still not over him. Went on one lame-o date in the past 8 months and that's it. No funny business at all , much to some of my girlfriends' horror.

So I went to a bachelorrette party this weekend that was being thrown by a self-proclamed sexologist. The bride to be had organized a celebration of women that included burlesque-style strippers, sex-toy demos and of course, dirty bingo. I attended the party with a group of women from work varying in all ages and backgrounds which of course made for some borderline uncomfortable moments. "What was the last one she called?" asked the sixty-something year old receptionist. "Butt plugs, Dot. She called 'B - Butt plug'. Did you fill in your free space?"

I don't think I have to tell you who the winner was. When I went up to claim my vibrator, the sexologist, who also happened to be a client of ours, explained in graphic detail how to position it to get the most bang for the buck. When I quipped back that my prize will come in handy for my bursitis, the room went silent. Not only was I , I was also an ingrate. Oh and the best part- the thing also has a remote control- just in case .... well just in case I don't know what.