Yesterday I turned 30. I want to remember it like this:
I slept in, took Little Guy to daycare, and then got a back rub while watching the “Rocky & Bullwinkle” movie.
I went to work at the restaurant and worked hard because it was busy. I made some bucks. I finished eating lunch at 5.
I picked up Little Guy and went home where I found a card and a Hip Hop Party CD from Girlfriend Roomie. Upstairs, her boyfriend had bought me a cake made of chocolate cookie with a chocolate ganache on top. The kids and I went downstairs to have a dance party. I danced and sang. They didn’t. They read books under Little Guy’s bed. I drank a vodka tonic. Mommy needed a birthday drink. Tonic sprayed everywhere when I opened it.
I texted back and forth with someone I’ll refer to as “Young & Handsome,” or Y&H for short. He wanted to meet me for some dancing. Girlfriend and I planned to go out, since Guy Roomie agreed to stay home with the kids after they fell asleep. Girlfriend had homework to finish first.
After dinner, the kids and I had another dance party and we ALL danced. Then it was PJ time. I put Little Guy to bed, snuggled him, then waited for him to fall asleep.
Then Boyfriend called. And I told him that I didn’t want to feel tied down anymore. I want to see other people. I’m not ready for a relationship so recently after my divorce, and I had jumped into this one too soon. He was sad, told me he loves me, and we hung up. He understood. We may still hang out, but it feels tainted now.
Little Guy fell asleep just after 10 p.m. I texted Young & Handsome that I could go out. Free of child responsibility. Free of a serious relationship and any future guilt that may occur. I felt relieved, a little sad, and then liberation bubbled up and burst out like the tonic water had earlier. I smelled the 30 red, birthday roses in my bedroom, said “later” to Girlfriend who was still doing homework, and headed out.
I met up with Young & Handsome at the Highway and got in his truck. He smelled like grape lip balm and had styled his coarse hair into a short, spiky, upwards hairdo. He’s so young and pretty I thought. I complimented him on his hair.
We checked out the music scene down the road, then decided to head over the hill for some better and different action. We went to a bar in the town and had a drink while listening to a solo guitarist playing 90’s college scene music. It wasn’t what I was looking for, so I said, “You’re so young and pretty. Let’s go for a walk up the street.” I knew a good dancing place, and he’d never been there before.
We took a walk up there, and I had a couple more vodka-somethings and then we boogied to the live DJ spinning tunes that mostly he knew. We danced. We got jiggy with it. Ta-na-na-na-na-na. Okay, maybe not. We had fun, fun, fun, and Daddy didn’t take the T-Bird away.
He’s not the best dancer, but he’s not the worst. He’s way fun to dance with. We’ve danced together before. One night, he tried to dance dorkier than I do, but failed and gave the crown back to me. I am un-out-dorkable! Thank you, Sid, for teaching me some awesome moves!
It was an unforgettable 30th birthday!
