I was having a bit of a stressful week, feeling overwhelmed and underappreciated, when my very darling husband offered to let me take a little break...Go to Chipotle and have a treat and read my book and basically be alone for a while. Bless that man, I really needed it, and I was able to come home feeling so much better because of it. But it was not just the silence and personal space that had me rushing in the door and scooping up my babies and excitedly preparing dinner for the family. When I walked into the restaurant, I spotted Those Girls standing in line just ahead of me. You know them...if you are like me, you used to be them. There they stood, a pack of three (isn't it funny how young people always seem to travel in threes? I never noticed until my mom pointed it out, then laughed every time Melissa, Tracy and I would go somewhere together...especially if we happened to meet up with the Micciches and Mike, and our trio would join their trio... I don't know why, but its a thing), fresh from the gym in their form-fitting shirts and capris, every part of their youthful bodies exactly where its supposed to be, not yet stretched from the growth of a child within. The young man making their burritos looked like he had hit the jackpot, as he flirted and chatted them up and took A REALLY LONG TIME putting their food together, distracted as he was. They tossed their hair and giggled at everything that was happening, so that I started to feel a little paranoid that perhaps they were laughing at me, the middle-aged lady behind them trying to stare or become too impatient. Because, of course, I remember when every boy represented a Possibility...maybe not The One, but someone with whom to spend some time, boost my self-esteem, make me feel special and beautiful. I remember the butterflies that made eating impossible (a real feat for me, let me tell you) when a Possibility was around, the hope and excitement of the unknown. As we sat to eat, Those Girls wound up within earshot, and again, I swear, I was trying not to eavesdrop. But then they told a lengthy story about their friend Rachel, and it was impossible not to tune in with my own name being mentioned so many times. See, apparently some girls were going back to their dorm room, but accidentally walked in on Rachel and a dude "hooking up hardcore". Cue more fits of giggles and exclamations, and, oh yes, I am remembering when I was the one walking in on a "hardcore hookup". Only I think we called it "getting all up on each other" or "like, totally getting it on". And Those Girls, bless them, made me so glad to be the me I am today, and not the them I was a decade ago.
Every time I sit through a movie or TV show where someone is getting married, and they are stressing about it being "the last time I fall in love" or committing to "one person for the rest of my life!", I have to roll my eyes. Because I definitely don't miss the stress and confusion and broken heart of young love. I like the stability of knowing that I am committed to this one man, and he is committed to me, and I know when I will have my next 10,000 kisses, and they will all be wonderful, because I know exactly where to put my lips and where to expect his to be, and I know what he tastes like, and the smell of him up close. I don't have to worry about if either of us has braces (or both! We'd be stuck together and the principal would have to call the police to separate us!), or terrible breath, or just really does not know what goes where. Surely I'm not the only one who had some bad first kisses? And its a relief to know that my husband has seen me at my best and worst, and can mentally do a composite of all those times he's seen me, so that he's not even seeing how bad I might look at any given moment (its a real thing, I heard it on Fresh Air), and certainly not begrudging me for some frizzy hair or dark circles. I used to try to look "perfect" every day in the throes of youthful obsession, and it is EXHAUSTING. I would much rather be myself, highs and lows, flaws and fabulous, than depend on a fleeting attraction to sustain a relationship. And the thing I love the absolute most about this moment in my life? I live with NO ONE else who is "hooking up hardcore". I never have to see a roommate topless on my couch with her boyfriend, or hear moans through a wall late at night...the only people getting some at this house are the ones sleeping in my bed. And that is such a relief. Because no one should have to confront another person about staying clothed in a common area, or see the genitalia of some other girl's dude. I don't want to know about anyone else's sex life, and I don't have to! And I will be so sad to leave this phase of life, especially if it means walking in on one of my boys "crashing" or "boinking" or whatever they'll be calling it in another 20 years (please, let me have this one).
Oh its good to be 30. Its good to be happily married. Its good to no longer be one of Those Girls.
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