**Note: Recently an old friend inspired me to bring back blogging. I apologize for the hiatus and hope that you will keep me on my toes going forward.**
After renewing my interest in blogging, I decided to review the last couple years of my life via this blog. What I found was a startling irony that I certainly had not anticipated discovering. Despite all my best efforts since college to remain a care-free party girl with no intentions of growing up, I have indeed begun that process.
The one constant in my life post college graduation is that I have lived for the weekends. Mostly that has meant going out hard on both Friday and Saturday nights with my best single girlfriends as we navigated our varied goals of forgetting about the week, meeting up with our latest crush or just having fun together in the dive bars of Buckhead.
However, much has changed. Those single girlfriends have dwindled in number to the very last few, myself still included. My characterization of single has caught up with the rest of the adult world and is now defined as not married as opposed to not dating anyone.
My vigor for going out both weekend nights and even the occasional Thursday night has quelled in favor of one night out and one more relaxing night at home watching movies and having a glass of wine.
It's almost laughable to think back to the times living at Fort Buckhead where Roommate and I would bring home half the bar for late night because the 2 a.m. last call didn't mean the night had to end. Recently, even living in NYC where last call can be closer to 5 a.m., I can't recall the last time I wasn't in bed by 1 a.m.
The biggest change, however, is that I met someone. He's still new, and we're not trying to rush things, but it has at least occurred to both of us that it could be something serious.
Although this statement will likely cause him at least a mild level of panic, the concept of me getting married someday to someone doesn't plague me the same way it once did. I don't break out in a metaphorical rash or go into figurative convulsions just thinking of that level of commitment, although I still partly blame my attendance at dozens of weddings over the past couple years for numbing my resistance to marriage.
Even as I find my first few gray hairs (eeek! but true) and settle into a comfortable state of post-college adulthood, I am humbly reminded that some things will never change. Just this past Saturday night while visiting the new guy in Atlanta, I passed out fully clothed after going out to dinner and drinks so we could meet some of each others' friends. If my conception of true adulthood is true, then I am precluded at least to some degree because of regressions like that.
JLH
