A Perished Past

I’m beginning to wonder if you guys are required to join WordPress in order to “like” or comment on a post. Or maybe I have zero “likes” because my posts just suck ass.  Both options are plausible.

Anyhoo…Out of the five gents you saw yesterday, we are now down to three contenders. One disappeared on me, I eliminated one because (yawn) 😴. I also ADDED a new dude, but gave up on him after he asked me whether I prefer “spit, swallow or face paint”.

We’re getting closer! Hell- I may get laid this year after all!

Let’s see…what else is new in my world?

Thursday I leave for a four day junket to NYC. My friend Renee and I need to get the duck out of Fodge, so off we go! We’ll be staying in Manhattan and I managed to book us a last minute deal on a condo. The catch is that it’s only one bed so unless I get upgraded, we’re gonna get to know one another really well.

I like Renee a lot. She’s one of the rare “real” people I’ve found in the area we reside in. Many of the moms here are quite snobby and pretentious. Don’t get me wrong- I’m a total snob when it comes to certain things, like my choice of handbags, cooking implements and jewelry, but those are items that I don’t consider to be “disposable”. And unlike most of my wardrobe, they’ll last me FOREVER and won’t reject me if I get fat.

But yeah- these bitches wouldn’t dare take a shit unless Gucci made toilet paper.

But Renee is different. She’s a straight-shooter and she has a great sense of humor. She’d be a helluva backup in the unlikely instance of a bar fight (which I no longer participate in. I’m not 25 anymore, lol). Our daughters are best friends, and our sons get along pretty well when her kid isn’t face-planted into a keyboard. We’ve vacationed together as families, most recently to Florida for Spring Break. Next year, we’ll all head to California together.

Long story short, this trip seems like a good idea.

Except…

Renee is stuck in her heyday. Every time we go out, she tells me all about how she was the center of the bar scene with boyfriends up the wazoo. She was popular and sought after and oh! the places she’s been! I’ve heard every story 10 times and they get more exaggerated each time.

And Renee LOVES New York. She used to go there with her fiancée (now husband) at LEAST once a month before they had kids. So now I get to visit Renee’s version of New York 🙄.

Dude, I’VE been to New York too. Several times. Both alone, and with my family. I have no interest in hearing about how she fucked Alice Cooper in a deli bathroom, or danced on the tables during Lent or whatever crazy shit she’s done. It was 20 years ago- GET OVER IT.

Then again…

Maybe I’m jealous. Not because I had a boring life, but because I don’t wish to revisit those years. They weren’t all that great for me. I was part of the bar scene…I partied with professional athletes and participated in my share of debauchery. But I had terrible, awful experiences during that time as well. To me, it isn’t worth remembering. In fact, I’ve all but blocked it from my mind out of a sense of self-preservation.

So yeah…maybe I wish my 20’s had been more “electric”. Perhaps I long to remember them fondly and to smile when I recall “the good old days”. Maybe I envy her because she has that.

Or maybe I feel sorry for her because she just can’t seem to let it go. She strikes me as very unhappy with her marital situation (which is very similar to mine), and perhaps that’s why she clings to a time when she felt fulfilled and relevant. I mean, as much as one CAN when they’re hanging upside down from a chandelier.

Today I was asked to recall a happy childhood memory and it occurred to me that I don’t have any. Not one. The closest thing are memories of my grandparents and how loving they were.

It’s like I’m trying to pretend that I hatched from an egg when I met my husband and my “past” began around age 30. Actually, I don’t even go that far back.

My life, my story, began when my children were born. The Hornet (my now-deceased Mother in Law) ensured that any time prior to their births (and a short period thereafter) was a living hell.

That’s fucking sad, yo.

I wonder if my kids will feel the same way. I pray and pray that they have SOME happy memories to cherish. Stuff they recount to their children and laugh about for years to come. The stories I tell my kids are about how I met their dad and how I felt when they were each born. How much I loved them before I ever saw them or held them.

What the hell else should I tell them? That their grandma was a racist and a terrible human being? That my dad is a passive-aggressive narcissist with a God complex? That their mother has scars from shit that was out of her control?

Yeah, right.

Maybe it’s better to live in the present. After all, I can’t very well appropriate someone ELSE’S past.

Plus I’m far too fat to hang upside down from a chandelier.