I am at the age where I'm "supposed" to be an adult. Right. Tell that to my Cat in the Hat footie pajamas, of which I am wearing right now. They even have pockets. I know, you're jealous. Anyway, I digress. I'm also at the age where a very large majority of my friends are in long term relationships, married, are pregnant/having kids, or some combination of the three. I am just about the only single person left among my group of friends, which gets really old after a while.
Me: "Want to come hang out?"
"Oh no thanks, we can't get a sitter."
"Oh it's date night."
"Oh sorry, we're having couples trivia night."
Fine. I wanted to sit here and watch the new season of My Little Pony on Netflix while I drink beer and crochet anyway. Because I'm a bizarre combination of tiny child, old lady, and 20-something. Truthfully, I'm really ok with this most days, but every so often it nags at me. I'm running out of single friends to do things with, and the energy to even leave the house to want to do something.
I got a random text from one of my married-with-children friends last week that said, "Hey, hubs has a thing tonight, would you want to hang out?" I of course accepted with great enthusiasm, because my social life is about as exciting as a snail race through molasses. At some point during the evening, my friend said, "You know I'm really glad you could come over, I assumed you'd be busy." I laughed. Me? Busy? Right. I told her, "Nah, I rarely doing anything besides work and go home." (Sad but true) She said, "I just always assume that single people are out doing exciting, fun things all the time." And then the epiphany came. Why wasn't I out doing fun, exciting, single-y things? Besides the fact that I'm totally introverted, painfully awkward at making conversation with people I don't know, and broke as hell? No idea. Regardless, I mentally made the decision that I should probably start acting like the young single person I am instead of the old lady I keep (only half) jokingly telling people (and myself) that I am. Or at the very least try to not become a crazy cat lady before I'm 30.
If nothing else, it should make for some good stories.
In true stereotypical fashion, the first thing I decided to do was sign up for a cooking class. I'm actually super excited about it, I've been wanting to do a cooking class for forever and just never have. The class is in three weeks, but they fill up so fast you almost have to book your spot a month in advance if you want to make it in. This one is going to be taught by the owner of one of our local pizzerias so I'll learn how to make dough, toss it, make sauce, etc. I mean come on, who doesn't like pizza? This could very well be the undoing of my 30 pound weight loss...or the start of an epic pizza diet. Only time will tell.