So I was rummaging through my dresser drawers as I hopped on one leg trying to finish shaving because my best friend reminded me that my legs were starting to look like the rain forest, and I realized a few things. I have some pretty awesome bras, that I bought a few years back, and it’s seriously time to update them. They’ve been through the ringer and look the part of a badly abused victim of the washer. I remember the first time, ever, that someone bought me matching panties and a bra. It was at a Christmas party, and I had never owned such a beautiful set. (While I was wildly embarrassed to get them at Christmas from a cousin, I will always be epically grateful because it started this love affair with undergarments.)
So this year, after I survive back to school and the Holidays, I’m going to reinvest in the addiction that I seem to have neglected. This all started because I had this ridiculously long phone conversation yesterday about being a grandmother. Okay, so that wasn’t what it was about, but it was something discussed. I’m thirty-five, and a grandmother, who is dating, and trying to reintegrate into the society of the dating world, which is mostly made up of with 20 somethings, or creepy old men. I’ve wrote out these adventures for you so you can commiserate in my journey. The end game, as always, was to find someone I connect with on some cosmic level, get married, and ride off into the sunset… or at least a lifetime of good sex. I’d be okay with either because I’m flexible like that.
So I’m going to take my fabulous bras, with the matching panties and continue to explore this crazy phase I’m in, even if I am someone’s grandmother. Brian doesn’t care, pretty sure he doesn’t give two shits if his grandmother dates or not. That being said, I wouldn’t care if *my* grandmother dated. This is not an age thing, it’s a mentality thing. Just like I wouldn’t date that poor 21 year old (see Facebook), I’m not going to let the thought of getting older make me stop chasing what I want.
I would like to share my crazed interaction with “John”. John is a victim of society my friends. He spent at least an hour telling me how awful todays women are. The negative vibes rolled off his messages in waves that made me want to cleanse my soul. If I ever start to sound like I hate men, please God bring me back to reality. I never want to live in a world where everything sucks that badly.