LATE: a story about alcohol, adulting and a happy ending

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My god, I am too old for this shit…, I thought as I stared at my red, splotchy face in the bathroom mirror.

It was then that I noticed one of my fake eyelashes from the night before had made it’s way to the center of my forehead and was now stuck.

Perfect.

I was still in my fancy black dress and sweater too. Apparently I had come home after a night of dancing and drinking, scarfed down two lean cuisine meals and then promptly passed out fully clothed on top of my comforter. With all the lights in the house still on.

I was hurting. I was sleep-deprived. I was going to be late for work.

I’m 36. I’m too old for this shit.

Or … am I?

This is the question I ask myself often. I’ve been warring with this idea of what version of an adult I should be at this age for quite some time now. I’m 36, I’ve been married and divorced. I don’t have any kids. I don’t own a house. I’m single. And I enjoy vodka. A lot.

I’ve written about it before, but my timid life as a child in the church was further compounded by an 8-year relationship where I never felt free to grow or discover who I was. After I ended my marriage, my previously sheltered life changed dramatically. I moved to Dallas and started making friends. I found karaoke and dancing and all the bars. And I have loved it.

These last 5 years have been complete freedom and fun. So fun. But also … quite exhausting. Physically and emotionally.

I thought I would’ve been out of this ‘phase’ by now. I figured I would eventually tire of it. Actually, if I’m being completely transparent and honest …  I naively assumed I would’ve met someone by now. I figured on one of these happy nights out I’d see him, across the bar, twinkle in his eye and he’d come over, kiss me and change my life forever. And then my lifestyle would naturally shift to complement his. I figured we’d ‘grow up’ together.

Ugh, I know … how upsettingly old-fashioned of me to wait on a fictitious significant other to inspire change in my life. I’m an independent woman who prides myself on being this way. But still, I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been waiting on. The next chapter, the beginning of my future … signified by the person I hope to build a life with.

The happy ending.

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