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Dirty 30 and The American Dream

I’m back after a brief hiatus. It’s been a crazy few weeks. I went to Las Vegas the weekend before my 30th birthday. It was pretty good times. We were VIP at DJ Alesso at Lights, woke up the next morning and had Dunkin Donuts, went to some pawn shops, went swimming in the lazy river at Mandalay Bay, and I got on the list to see Killswitch Engage at the House of Blues. Topped it all off with a trip to McDonald’s in a fancy dress.  Not exactly the trip I was expecting, but I am liking Vegas more and more each time I go, and I’m thankful to have such awesome friends to share it with, and friends who hooked me up with things to do that I enjoy. So if you are reading this and you were a part of that, thanks again!

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My actual 30th was kind of depressing. I think every woman goes through a mini freak out right around 30. I’ve watched it happen to a number of people and was expecting it myself.  I’m sure it mostly has to do with not being exactly where you expected in life. At least for me that’s what it is.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve been able to do things in California that I would have never imagined doing in a million years. I’ve made something of myself with my two businesses. My career is something I can be and am very proud of, because I know I worked my butt off to get where I am. The rest of my life isn’t so bad either. I’ve partied with rock stars, swam in the playboy mansion grotto, hiked 600 foot high sand dunes, gone skinny dipping in the pacific ocean, bought myself a brand new car, learned how to make sushi, been in a band, and adopted two amazing dogs. amongst hundreds of other cool things. Heck. I get to live on the beach.  I have a DAMN good life.

But…

There is that biological clock that somehow went from ticking impatiently and quietly in the background to screaming at me. I’ve been single for 4 years now. My dating life since then has just been flat out crappy. I compare everyone to him. Most of the people I ended up kind of liking, used me, which totally was lame. I’m not saying that to be dramatic either, I’ve just had pretty much the worst luck. To the point where I am literally afraid to like someone.

 

I grew up in a small town. In my mind,  you date, get married, you buy a house and you have children.  I just kind of assumed that by 30, I’d have all 3 of those things. The realization that out here in southern California, people grow up and get married way older – if they do at all-  has been one I’ve fought with for a few years now. I wasted my 20’s loving a guy who had no intention of ever having a relationship with me, when I should’ve been meeting new people. I’m so jaded about relationships now.  I might never have kids.  I will probably never own the house I would want.

I’m absolutely sick of being alone.

FYI: If you’re married and reading this, and thinking “oh whatever she doesn’t know what married life is like. it’s SO hard and we struggle all the time.” Seriously. Keep your mouth shut. I am extremely sick of hearing that argument.  I know married life isn’t all roses. No relationship is. But it’s gotta be nice having two incomes, and to know you have someone there to help you when your car breaks down or if you’re sick. Or to have someone to hug when you’re feeling down, or to make you a cake on your birthday. Just because you got married or had a child it does not mean that you know everything there is to know about the world.

So yeah, my birthday was kind of a tough emotional day and I felt pretty alone.  I was going to go to work, but I was just so depressed that I needed a day off. So I sat and cried for an hour or two. And then cleaned my house furiously. And then got drunk with my neighbors and my two friends that came over. They sang to me over a single candle stuck in ice cream, just before midnight.

I realized that this is what you are supposed to do on your 30th birthday. It’s a reality check, and a reminder that I probably needed. Life is never what you expect.