The big 3-0 has arrived and I've gotta say, it's not nearly as bad as I was anticipating. The days leading up to The Big Day were tough. I had my final breakdown on December 14 at approximately 2:00 in the afternoon when I drove home from work, opened a bottle of sweet red wine and drank half of it (straight from the bottle) as I sat alone in my front room. I vaguely recall texting my friend and asking her if this was "rock bottom". An hour later, I corked my wine bottle, put my big girl pants on and came to terms with the end of my 20s.
In my blog from November about my feelings on turning 30, you may recall my ridiculous fears I had about that huge milestone: uterus and other various parts drying up and falling out, mom jeans, 50 lb weight gain... Turns out that when I woke up on my birthday (and every day since), my boobs were still in place and if anything, my muffin top is shrinking, so my jeans can remain below my belly button for now. Whew!
That said, something interesting DID in fact happen once I entered my 30s. I became perfectly content with my life as it is. I suppose the process of becoming content began about 6 months prior to my birthday. I had put dating on hold, deleted my online dating profile for good, and felt good about just being single for a while. And I had accepted that, although I wasn't married, I had accomplished a lot in my 20s, including having a little boy who changed my life, starting a darn good career, and buying our first home - on my own!
So what's the problem with being 100% content, you ask? I've become set in my ways and completely comfortable with my life as a single woman and mom to the point that the thought of changing anything causes a feeling of dread to wash over me. And the thought of making an effort to be dateable just makes me sleepy. My thought patterns regarding a dating life have changed significantly since last year, as demonstrated below:
29: I wish I had a date.
30: Ugh, I don't want to pay a babysitter $20 so I can go have a mediocre conversation with someone who will end up being a waste of $20. Unless I get Red Lobster. And dessert....the kind that doesn't require me to shave anything.
29: I wish I had someone to cuddle with.
30: I don't want to shave anything.
29: Drinking wine alone just isn't the same.
30: I'm glad I don't have to share this with anyone.
29: I wish I had someone to look sexy for.
30: Fuzzy socks are awesome! And I don't want to shave anything.
I'm sure now you probably have this image in your mind of a smelly, hairy, bitter woman, but I'm really not any of the above. Don't get me wrong, I still love "love" and romance. I still watch John Cusack movies and secretly wish that he was holding his boom box up to my window, or that I was Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal was my best friend who falls in love with me (say what you want.....that man was a fox in 1989). I just lack the motivation to make a conscious effort to be date-worthy or go out and meet a potential date. I feel like I owe it to any man that I date to be well-groomed, interesting, and selfless. Unfortunately, all of those qualities seem to have slowly disappeared in the past few months. As I told a friend of mine who is just as set in his ways as I am, I don't have the energy or patience to fairly share myself with another person right now or in the near future, aside from Isaac. My worry is that this feeling won't pass. Before, I worried that I'd involuntarily become a lonely cat lady. Now, I worry that I'll not only become that person, but I'll be content even THEN.
And what a waste of a runner's butt when I'm the only one who will get to see it.
