Age ain't nothin' but a number

So, MMM was being his usual smug married self, and explaining his theory on aging to Kaia and I. In short, his position is your life is over at 25. After that, you start working, paying rent, having real responsibilities...etc.

Well, with all due respect (however little that is), Kaia and I whole-heartedly disagree. To Kaia, 25 is when you first start gaining a sense of self. To me, numerical age isn't what makes you old...it's what you do and when. Allow me to explain.

At 25, martamack became married martamack. At 29 (give or take a year -- I wasn't really listening) married martamack became Al Bundy (that is, married with child(ren)). Well, this, my friends, is what makes you old. Marriage is the end of your single social life (which is vastly different from a couple-d social life). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say an engagement and/or giving away your milk (you know, euphemistically living together) is the end of your single social life. It's the end of great stories like Snowflake, and Drunk Natalie, ooh! and remember the guy that was gay but didn't know it? and other such entertaining nonsense that goes on. It's probably the end of meeting new and interesting people. (Unless, of course, you go about meeting couples). And then kids. Well, that's the end of a social life altogether. Have you ever seen someone with children stay out past midnight or so? Because I haven't.

So, I'll thank you not to call me old. I still have my single social life perfectly intact. I don't have anyone that I have to check in with, and make sure I go to the A-bar with my road dogs. And for that matter, I still have road dogs. So yes, while being single can be stressful at times (i.e. when I need a date for the wedding, when the guy you're dating is being a total girl and giving you the silent treatment (ahem, that means you boxer!!!), and when you're in the mood to go to a romantic restaurant but can't find anyone to go, the list goes on); it's the life I'm into right now. And really? It's keeping me young. (Of course, at some point I will be too old for such nonsense. Now is so very not that time).

There's a reason why the saying is "young and carefree" and NOT "old and carefree". There's also a reason why people keep calling ages the "new" decade. (50 is the new 30, 40 is the new 30, 30 is the new 20). Because people are feeling younger later in life -- which happens to coincide nicely with people waiting until later in life to get shackled...er....married and have babies.

Eat your heart out...I'm still young!!! ;)

Secret Agent (Wo)Man...

As it turns out, I did not get to flex my double agent muscles this weekend. But it was a heck of a lot of fun leading up to it. Here's what happened:

So, as many of you know, I am/was embroiled in a disagreement/reverse/island-kicking-offing moment with the boxer. I am also in the process of platonic/romantic/platonic-again relationship defining moment with bottle-service guy (who will be henceforth known as Snowflake). Well, this weekend, I attempted to elevate my level of pimp-tress and scheduled dates with both of them on Friday. (Yes, yes I really did attempt it).

First, the boxer and I re-established communication on Thursday. In an effort to make myself more available, and less neurotic, I suggested we get together after he left work on Thursday. I was even going to drive to meet him. (I know, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, alright?). But, because I am an early to bed kinda girl, it didn't work out. As an alternative, he invited me to meet him out with his friends on Friday. So I agreed...and then I enlisted Kaia to go with me, so she could also take advantage of the boxer's potentially cute friends.

A couple hours later, I receive a text message from Snowflake, letting me know he had dinner plans in my approximate side of town, and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up afterwards. Well, I texted back that I already had plans, but if he got out of dinner early enough, I could probably do both. Naturally, I only told him the part of the plan where I was meeting up with Kaia (I left out the part where Kaia and I were going to meet up with the boxer and his friends).

Well, as per usual, Snowflake flaked out. (Hence the new name). I was kinda sad about that, because I couldn't be a double-agent as previously planned. However, I still had the pseudodate with the boxer. (HA! Remember pseudodate? I wonder whatever happened to him?) Anyway, that also failed to happen! Now, the boxer has never failed to follow through. He's given me the silent treatment, and other childish things, but never flat-out flaked. This time, though, I called him and asked where he would be. He said Leona's for dinner, and then out to Wrigley. I told him I would text him when we were on our way. Well, I never found out where in Wrigley they were. He never texted, and never called.

Of course, I got really annoyed as the night went on. But my irritation was tempered by the fact that Kaia and I ended up at the bar where Afroguy works, and he was there! Hooray flirting with increasingly-adorable-with-alcohol Afroguy! He totally recognized me, which was surprising. He asked Kaia and I to stick around and party at the A-bar when he got off work, but honestly, we weren't that down.

Anyway, the boxer and I exchanged text messages the next day. He alleges that he told me 50 times which bar they were at. I potentially didn't get the texts, because the very same night, Snowflake claimed to have sent me 4 texts, but I only got 1. So now, the boxer and I are embroiled in another disagreement, but I have no idea what to do about this one. Do I bother making an effort (if for no other reason than to have the last word), or do I just cut my losses because it will probably always be difficult putting up with this dude's ego? Knowing me and my track record, I will probably end up calling or texting again, just because I have to have the last word. If I'm going out, I'm going out making sure he knows exactly how right I am. (Such is my fatal flaw ;}).

The Reverse

I am a HUGE sucker for the reverse. As you all know, I have had island security escort the boxer to the dock. As you also know, I suck at the clean break, and therefore there was probably going to be a reversal of my decision. But, this did not occur.

Instead, the boxer pulled the reverse on me. You know this move. First, you are sooooooo bitter and angry and ticked and such. Then, you express that bitterness in one way shape or form. So then, the person who is the object of your anger does not respond properly with remorse and or apologies. And then, this is the killer move. Then they, as if by magic, are angry at and or ignoring you! Sometimes you don't even know why. So now, you're all kinds of distressed and wanting to know what you did. And boom! Thus shifted the power in the relationship. You have totally lost the game of chicken you were previously winning.

As always, I totally fell for this move. And the boxer is currently winning the game of chicken by a full touchdown. I am dying to know the meaning of his last text message. And he blew off my last phone call; and so I still don't have an explanation. Arrrgh! I hate the reverse. Someday I'm going to find the anecdote for it... :). Until then, I have no clue what I'm gonna do. Do I call again? Do I text again? Do I cut my losses and wave goodbye to the boat?

Oops I did it again...

I have a shopping problem. This is not new to anyone who has known me for more than 6 minutes. But, the holidays are a time for me to use my powers for good rather than evil. So I can spend hours upon hours in a mall shopping for the perfect gift. A gift I've always enjoyed giving. But, the holidays are also a time when evil retail empires mark things down to ridiculously low, can't beat it, must have it prices. So, I always find something I must purchase for myself, and I can't just ask for it for Christmas because I already turned in my list and I have no one on my roster who has that kind of cash to drop on a present for me. So, I resisted this weekend, but I very nearly purchased a fabulous top for myself this weekend. And I totally would've bought it. But they were out of my size. Phew! Close call. I can't promise that I won't be tempted again. But I'm going to try really hard to avoid it by not going to the stores. Unless it's really really necessary. ;)

/\ /\

Today, I saw the weirdest looking makeup job ever. I've never really understood why some women shave off their eyebrows and then repaint them with an eyebrow pencil. Well today, I stand completely confused. This chick on the eL had not only shaved off her eyebrows, but she also drew some on in a color that was more charcoal than black. And, they had a little bit of a stretched-out-upside-down "V" vibe to them. And then, on top of that, she drew them all the way into her nose area. It was so freaky! Man, people are so weird.

Nextel. Done.|

The boxer is so very off the island. Not officially. Officially, he is standing on the local dock, awaiting his transportation. Why? Because he PISSED. ME. OFF. Here's what happened:

Yesterday, we had our third date. We hung out at my house and watched (yes, actually watched!) a movie. When he first got there, he told me he didn't think we were spending enough time together, in order to get to know each other. I told him this was the most time I'd ever spent with anyone I was dating (for the most part), since usually I was dating someone who lived in a different city than myself. Anyway, I found this all incredibly adorable.

So today, in an effort to offer him more of my time as requested, I txt'ed him to ask him if he wanted to go to dinner tomorrow. His response is "Are you cooking?". In my head, I'm thinking "Are you effen kidding?" What I say instead is, no, but how about coffee. So he says, and I quote, "Lol. No, dinner is fine. I don't drink coffee nor am i a baller sweety. [sic]" Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me. First of all, we split the bill on our first date. Second of all, I offered to split on our second date. And third of all, I bought his @#$*%! dinner last night. So, thankyouverymuch, suck it up and pay for dinner tomorrow. Moreover, what kind of place do you think I would want to go to? Fogo de Chao? Anyway, I'll be d***ed if we fall into the habit of all our dates being "hanging out" at my place. This is the early stages, and YOU should still be courting. Anyway, all of that wouldn't fit in a text, so I said, "what kind of golddigger do you think I am? I just wanted to go out rather than stay in."

And you know what? The more I thought about it, the more ticked off I was. So, in an effort to not cuss him out, I opted to cancel our date for tomorrow. Far be it from me to spend someone else's money. Frickin' A. He was doing so well too. At any rate, I just have to figure out a way to get him off the island, and by that, I mean how to push him off. As we all know, I'm not so good at the clean break, and I'm easily talked into giving extra chances (See, the young'n, the ninja, the engineer, the bottle service guy). *Sigh*. I can be such a pansy sometimes.

Un-retirement

This is an essay on "why I decided not to retire." So, as I said many many months ago, I had already decided that if I didn't make either of the dance teams I tried out for, I'd go ahead and hang up my dance shoes, and be a real adult. Naturally, my mother tried to talk me out of this. My friends tried to talk me out of this. And most of the less than perceptive people in my world made many suggestions as to what I could do instead. (Grant it, they were just trying to be helpful -- but it was less helpful and more annoying).

Anyway, what actually changed my mind was an article I read in a local trade journal. It was about a lawyer who had a hobby of writing plays. He too, attempted to just keep it in the background -- something he did as a kid and in college. But eventually, he decided to just give in to the hobby. What he said, which rang true to me, is that a person cannot give up that which they loved to do as a child. For him, that was writing. For me, it's dancing. And gosh-darn-it, why should I fight it?

Besides, why retire before you're forced out? Well, I've got 7 months to get my act in gear. Darn shame I thought I was retiring...it'll be like starting all over again. (Including the 10 lbs I must have gained since the finals. *Sigh*. Why wasn't I born naturally skinny?)