We all know what happens when someone starts a story with something like: When I was 17… Zzz…
This is the part where you switch off and begin to mentally color-coding your T-shirts. Everybody does that, right? No? Well I do.
Anyways, this week my Instagram, Facebook and Twitter feeds have been blown up with a fact I’d be happier not thinking about “Monica and Chandler’s twins would be 9 this year, Phoebe’s triplets 14, Ben 18 and Emma 11. Let’s all take a minute to let that sink in”.
Wow. Seriously? Remember listening to Gangsta’s Paradise and feeling sorry for Coolio because he was 23? And wondered, just like him, if he would live to see 24?
And here we are. The 90’s are literally over a decade away. The millennium has come and gone and still no Y2k, but lots of MB’s. Time is flying and there’s no way to stop it. We are old. Embrace it. Don’t try to fight it. You’ll just look silly like those parents that we see at parties and wonder why they aren’t off asleep somewhere…
Wait…
I dragged Superdad to a party this weekend. I insisted and put my foot down. I will not submit to the senior citizen inside. I will not sit in bed and catch up on the Vampire Diaries. I will put my dancing shoes on and go out at an ungodly hour.
And so we did. I put the littles to bed, grabbed my heels and went to the door with Superdad begrudgingly treading behind me. We got to the party and all I could think to myself was who the hell are all these people? Why is everyone so skinny? Are sunglasses at night still in? Why is the music so loud? Why are there no lyrics to these songs? Why is she wearing a dress shorter than my shirt? Does her mom know she’s here?
And so we awkwardly stood around. People watching. Waiting for one of us to admit to the other that perhaps we belonged at home… or perhaps in some chic restaurant with our fellow suburbanites? Somewhere we could actually talk to each other and enjoy the company.
But I can’t! I won’t! I don’t think I could ever put away my dancing shoes. I don’t want to. I’m sure there were people there at the party who had children just like me, right? I couldn’t have been the oldest person there, could I?
Unfortunately for my social life, that just isn’t my scene anymore. I would rather be wrestling L Boogie off Z Money’s toy pony. I would! I would rather be sitting here all alone writing to you. I would rather be sleeping. Believe it or not I would actually rather be watching 90210 as I play Candy Crush Saga on my phone. (I mean seriously, how else could anyone watch 90210?)
Perhaps it’s time to accept the inevitable. I’m just too classy for the “hip” scene.