The Dating Diary

Week 1: The Countdown To Thirty

This weekend marked the start of my 52-week countdown to thirty, Spent Friday night completely plastered, waving my hands in the air as my family and friends surrounded me in celebration of my day of birth. The night was going by smoothly enough until nosy relatives started throwing me pitying glances and asking me if I've had enough of the single life yet. What about me dancing with no shoes on and screaming "I will survive" at the top of my lungs indicates that I'm not enjoying being single?

Your birthday is supposed to be a time of celebration and it was..until the tenth drink of vodka that is. That tenth one always gets me. (I'll admit, sometimes it's the fifth or second.) No matter how happy I am at the beginning of the night, like a pesky ex-boyfriend, vodka always has the ability to alter my mood from really happy to an emotionally unstable idiot. I don't always cry but when I do it's when I'm drunk and for absolutely no reason.

Friday night was no exception.

That tenth shot suddenly catapulted me into a state of misery as I sprinted for the washroom. I'm not sure why I was crying, It may have had something to do with the vomit projecting from my face or the fact that the waiter had just called me ma'am. Yes. I think that's what probably did it.

There is so much pressure on us women for our age. What am I supposed to do about it? I can't help that I'm getting older. Or that I haven't found some "love of my life" to plant a seed inside of me for the sake of everyone else's happiness. When did life become so stressful? It went from everyone telling me for years that "you're so young, you have your whole life ahead of you," to "oh wow you're almost thirty. Well you look great for your age. Better get a move on though you old gal." How exactly am I supposed to look at 29? Since when did being 29 suddenly mean that you're supposed to look like an old lady? And why does everyone just want me to settle down with any guy who is deemed as "nice" or "normal"? When I was younger, family and friends preached that I shouldn't waste my time on just any odd guy because I deserved the very best. So if he didn't have a lot going for him even if he was nice that meant he wasn't good enough for me. And yet now apparently any nice, normal guy will do because hey, I'm almost thirty. It's really all a load of bullshit.

Thankfully my bestie Nicole wasn't far behind and consoled me by showing me her latest match.com suitors- Nothing like looking at a bunch of uglies preaching about their "psychological healthiness" to put me in a better mood. On the way home to my place, we stopped by a Pizza place and grabbed a large to go. Nicole and I passed out on the couch immediately after devouring the entire pizza. At least it was Veggie. You see- not all of my life choices are bad.