I had a birthday last week that saw me edging even deeper into my 30s. So I went out and drank way more than I could handle in the company of a bunch of friends that I have known since university. I don’t see these people very much anymore, especially not altogether, and it was fucking excellent.
As we sat in the Indian restaurant being rowdy and eating our various biryanis and bhunas, talk got around to people’s various marital statuses. At the table, there was: married, mortgage, child and plans for child 2; there was married and mortgage; there was long-term girlfriend living together; there was engaged and pregnant fiancee; and there was married, mortgage and 1 child.
You can see why it’s rare for this group to get together all at once – they’re busy impregnating their wives, planning weddings, and purchasing properties.
After the dust settled on my mate telling us his fiancee was pregnant, the focus inevitably fell on me. And let me tell you, I got a fucking grilling. I don’t know if it was because I recently watched the movie “Goodfellas” or whether it was the bottles of Cobra coursing through my veins but my reaction was something akin to an Italian mobster from New Jersey. Picture hands flailing upwards, shoulders shrugging, eyebrows raising, and phrases like “What? What do you want from me? Come on! I don’t know why I don’t have any of that!” Etc and so on.
It was all good natured and good humoured really but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit left out/behind. The fact is I don’t have an answer as to why I don’t have any of the things my friends have, my path since we all graduated has just been completely different to theirs. When they were getting jobs, enrolling in pension schemes, and setting themselves up for the next 10 years of their lives, I was travelling the world. A lot. I guess that plays a part. Oh and that I’m fucking dreadful with women. I can’t rule that out as a factor.
I’m halfway through the probation period of a brand new job that could go either way so while they’re deciding on wedding centre pieces or whether they’d prefer their kid to have a brother or sister, I’m either at work trying to prove that I am worth hanging onto or sat at home wondering whether I should give The Wire another go even though I couldn’t get into it first time around.
Suffice it to say, we’re not so much on different chapters as we are reading different books when it comes to the whole adulting thing.
Aaaaaanyway, my plan is still to just go out more and do more shit socially this year. Shamefully, I’ve only managed to do that once so far in 2018, which is a poor showing. The problem is that the most common events to go to and the ones that enable you to meet a lot of new people involve ludicrously overpriced drinks in bars and clubs with terrible music and dance floors – and this is just so not my scene. And if that makes me sound old, sue me. I’m fresh out of shits to give.
I get on really well with one of my work colleagues. Even though I do think she’s hot, she’s not someone I would ever date but we do make each other laugh all the time but I’m moving to another office now so I’m no longer going to be working with her which is a real shame as I won’t see her again. It’s so rare to click with someone at work in that way but they’re the sort of conditions I need to be able to build a relationship – whether it’s a friendship or something more. Not some strobe lit, vodka soaked hellhole with half the people in there being individuals I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire.
So I need to find other things to go to. It’s just so tiring, isn’t it? Meeting new people and trying to make new connections at my age? On the one hand, I cannot be arsed but on the other hand is a lifetime of solitude and boredom. So, yeah, I have to be arsed. Otherwise we all know what will happen. It’ll be back to online dating.