I always lost this game. And by lost, I mean, got drunk first. It seemed in the days where a drinking game like “Never Have I Ever” was played, I was a little more carefree and took great pride in my stories. This too proper, classy portrayal of an aging lady who writes this now has a past where she played games like “Never Have I Ever”… and sometimes drunk twister. And yes, there was also strip poker on a couple of occasions (err, once in high school). I also created a kissing game in elementary school with the die from a Scattegories game (yes, I was very unsupervised as a minor). But that’s what I used to consider “winning.”
And I try SO HARD to remember who that person was. It doesn’t feel like me.
I wonder, as I’m ticking off another year on the 30-something calendar this week, if I’ve become SO uptight that I’m unable to have real fun. In effort to shed some perceptions of me as a Party Girl, I’ve gone so far to the other side that even I think I’m boring. Is this part of aging, in general, where we wistfully remember “the good old days” of our youth and have fond stories to embarrass your future children? And what if you don’t have children — who do you tell, the neighbors?
I had a pretty bad quarter-year crisis; I’m wondering if I should expect another one before I turn 40. A few months ago, I attended a local event hosted by a life coach, and all my self-analysis during her session led me to write in my notebook the words: HAVE MORE FUN.
My mid-year assessment says “no, I’m not having more fun.” For purposes of perfect metaphors, I’m running away from all of my problems. And if there’s anything that I fear more than getting older, it’s getting complacent.
This post is part of Blogger, May I? — and its 30 days of prompts.