29

I struck up a conversation with a 29 year old girl last night at a different watering hole, one that's not so filthy nor divey. When I found out she was 29, I quickly did the math in my head and realized this ain't going anywhere, but so what, conversation is fun anyway. Most of the conversation revolved around her not being able to find a guy that was worth it. What she wanted out of a guy was some stability, not employed “hunting gophers at a golf course.” I told here that was a cool reference to Caddy Shack and all I got was a blank stare. Ok...the meme but not the film survived.

“I'd like to find a guy, ya know...stable. Perhaps move into together.” In my head I said, 'Wait for it' and it came.

“maybe marriage...and I saw a house in Rehoboth that's sooo cute!” she says. There it is, the same ol' Princess fantasy.

She goes on.

“I look at the friends I have who are married and they're so happy.”

“Whoa, stop right there. You're making a wrong comparison.” I tell her.

I tell her, marrieds, like anyone else in a public setting, will put on a public face to advertise. “You can't know what's going on behind those closed doors and I'll tell you, that secret is more closely guarded than missile codes. They want you to think they are blissed out 24/7. It ain't that way! 20 Something marrieds have to prove everything's all fine and dandy, that it's succeeding...and it's worse if they're social climbers bent on maintaining an image.”

She agrees but it's that agreement to shut an older adult up, like teens will do to stop any more inquiries. She wasn't a bad sort, just hitting The Wall at 29, freaking out and making the mistake of comparing her life to others. The fact is life doesn't end at 29, but tell her that.

“What about you?” she asks. Oh Jesus, I think I can't condense all these decades into five sentences, but I try. As I tell her, I lock onto her eyes for about three to four seconds to see if there's any change in the pupils. There was, that instant widening. I think to myself “she's ready to go' either in a few hours or a week if I worked at it. But to tell the truth, I wasn't in the mood anyway to lead her on about any future she imagined. Plus, when I drink now, it's valium to me, I just further slump into the chair I'm sitting in. I lose energy! Add to that I wasn't entirely attracted to her to begin with. All I wanted this night was to meditate like sloth in a tree, with algae growing on me because I've slowed down so much.

After a bit, she gets up, and finds the girlfriend she was with to have that consultation. Those quick glances towards me then back to themselves was cute as it always is. “Gee, Sandra...how old is he?” I imagined that was one of the questions discussed. No matter, when you haven't put the money down on a particular pony, you don't care who places first. She finally came back to talk some more but the dynamic changed to Dad/daughter. I don't mean in the creepy sort of way but more of her wanting to know what to do. Ok, fine, I've lived that life since I was 13 pretty much. “Ok, here we go again, take charge, save them from drowning.”

“You know what happens when you turn 30?” I ask her.

“What?” As if she's waiting for some revelation.

“You turn 30, that's it.” I say.