1. Even though you say “I don’t care anymore” when the topic of breastfeeding in public comes up, guess what? I still do.
2. My sister texted me to complain about how our parents are too busy to come down and watch her child for a weekend so she can “get a break.” Let me rephrase that so you better understand, how dare our parents lead their lives so selfishly and not want to spend hundreds of dollars to fly to her house and spend their weekend babysitting her kid. What’s wrong with them? Lets rephrase again, how about what’s wrong with YOU.
3. Moms go everywhere and expect things. I need more napkins, more water, do you have a bag for my stuff? Can’t you see I’m holding a child?
Actually I can see that you are indeed holding a child, my question for you: how long have you known that you had that child? A while now? Couple years maybe? So you usually can’t carry things if you’re holding him/her, is that correct? Maybe you should consider a bag of some kind? Call me I don’t know, crazy or something, what do I know being just a single gal.
4. Your sleep deprivation is an excuse for everything. I don’t feel sorry for you.
I am consistently getting weird hours of sleep, having fucked up dreams, working two jobs and very much looking forward to the end of the night where there is a glass of wine and a bed, but that excuse isn’t good enough unless I’m juggling an infant.
5. This child birthday party thing is madness and it is bullshit. Some older folks I’ve been talking to are like WHAT? YOU were invited to a child’s birthday? How come? I never thought I would get affirmed from someone in their 60’s about non-mother etiquette, but they appear to be the ones with their heads on straight.
Back in their day, the people that attended a kids birthday party were other children and then parents who have the said children whom are attending, and then grandparents, and other family members. Unfortunately recent trends are that friends in general are being invited to children’s parties, regardless of the zero children they have, regardless of their zero interest in attending, and regardless of the fact it’s being held at ten am on a Saturday morning when clearly single folks will be hungover and only interested in nursing coffee and Tylenol on the couch.
The kids birthday party thing is probably what’s pissing me off the most right now. I have been invited to two kids birthdays inside this past month and a half. One I did attend just because the mom though it was SO FUCKING CRUCIAL that I went. Eh, there was a cute boy there, I survived. The second one was a stretch. I think I’ve met that kid a handful of times and talked once, and WHHHHHHHHHHY.
When the moms are upset that I wouldn’t want to come is when I just want to lose all my shit. This is the moment that I screw up and call all kids stupid and tell them that their kids head is shaped funny and where the mom and I ultimately become enemies, because I literally can’t comprehend why I should be forced to go to something that doesn’t apply to me and I REALLY can’t comprehend her attempts to guilt me into it.
I tried to talk to a kid at Pete’s coffee today, I tried to compliment her dress, I really tried. She ended up showing me that it wasn’t a dress but instead a shirt and skirt, as she flashed me there at the condiment car. It was important that I see the separation between the two garments, both a hot pink I might add. I tried to comment further and just got lost calling the outfit a dress again.
There are some days kids are just the worse, then when moms get involved who think that the world spins around them and their motherhood, and this is when I want to start ignoring kids and their mothers all together.
Oh I’m sorry were you talking about your 4 year old’s bounce house? Count me out, bye bye now.
For some of us single folks, we can have drastically different groups of friends and within each set we can take on very different roles. This can make separate nights bizarrely different from one another.
Last week I had two nights so drastically different from one another it’s comical.On Wednesday night my roommate and I hit the local bars for a bonding night and on Saturday night I attended my married friends barbeque.
Wednesday, when my roomie (yes, the stripper) and I sat down at the bar we had shots within the minute and before I could even pay for my beer there was a second provided to me. My roomie and I learned within the first few minutes there that she loves fireball and I love tequila and how throwing limes can become a fun game.
Saturday at the barbeque I made my best efforts not to open up the wine immediately. The game of pretending that you’re not impatiently waiting for that bottle to get uncorked is long and tiresome. Going through the motions of small talk and making kindly remarks about new pieces of furniture in the house, it’s almost like you have to earn that first glass of wine.
Back at the bar, older men sitting down a ways are buying my roommate more shots, while the bartender is pouring her more drinks, while I start to wonder where the hip hop music is because they advertise Wednesday nights as Hip Hop Night. Are they playing Jewel? This will not do, bring Drake out.
Back at the barbeque we are all talking about different car accidents we’ve recently been in. Different insurance policies cover different things, and your deductible sounds high! Who is your provider?
At the bar I have now become the DJ. I’m now playing all the hip hop music you could ever dream of because the bartender who was supposed to DJ is too busy hitting on and pouring drinks for my roommate, and has decided to let me do whatever I want because I’m her roommate. It’s all about who you know right?
Still on the subject of cars back at the home of the married folks, the wife is explaining to us how the husband got a red car, but red was not on her list of approved colors. The colors she would accept were black, white, grey, or blue. However the wife explained to us that the color is growing on her and we all did our best to compliment what a nice red it is.
The people at the bar are really responding to my song choices. Or maybe I’m just assuming they do since I’m having such a good time dropping it low while holding onto my bar stool for support. I’m trying to ask my roommate what my DJ name should be but she is too busy confessing to the girls sitting near us, that yes she works at a strip club.
We’ve begun eating back at the house and we all rant and rave about how the beef is cooked to perfection. Not too much pink, but just enough.Very juicy! Added just the right amount of sauce. The grilled veggies are also just delightful and it’s apparently a favorite side of theirs to make and there are not too many ingredients involved.
Cut to me now twerking on the bar.
The wife is now getting rather tipsy off her two glasses of wine and we’ve spent far too much time discussing how screwed up the school district is.
It is now nearing midnight back at the bar and I definitely have work in the morning. My roomie is just obliterated with free drinks while I have finally sobered up.
Several glasses deep back at the barbeque and it’s just getting good because my friend and I are doing some mild story telling for the entertainment of the married folks. Unfortunately the tipsy wife is beginning to look really sleepy.
At the bar I try to get my roommate to leave with me. We had said we’d just go out for an hour and now it’s two and a half hours later, but she doesn’t see my logic. She grabs the bartender and gives him a big hug while informing me that this is who she is getting a ride home with. I look at the bartender knowing that he is pretty proud/surprised that he managed to pull this off.
At the house I’m coming up with excuses to leave so wifey doesn’t pass out while were still there. As I’m departing, the married couple chats with us for a bit about getting a dog. What are the advantages of a big dog compared to a small one? Aren’t labs the best?
I had left the bar and was cozily sleeping at 2am when my roommate came home. When I heard her come in I thought about what a fun night we had bonding over drinks and dancing to 2Chainz, and that was when I heard the sure and not so subtle sounds of my roomie bonding with the bartender on our couch.
I mean how different are these nights? One ending in debate over Labradors and Retrievers and the other in debate over whether to do it on the counter next.
When you’re telling one party about the night you end up tweaking it just a tad. Telling my married friends on Saturday about going out with my roomie that wednesday, I mentioned nothing about shots, or DJing, or bartenders coming back to our place, but I did mention how I thought it was cool that the bar had Newcastle on tap.
Same deal when I came home from the barbeque. I can’t tell my wild stripper roommate that we sat around and talked about insurance policies, so I lead her to believe that we went through certainly more than two bottles of wine at this barbeque and that the conversations about car accidents were way more interesting.
I prefer to think of this not as lying but protecting others from truths they cant handle. You’re welcome?
Hi, you’re 19 years old, you know nothing about the sea.
You haven’t been around long enough to really see the sea, you wouldn’t know the sea if it crashed over you,
DO NOT TELL ME I’LL FIND FISH IN IT
This god damn mother fucking phrase.
“Plenty more fish in the sea”
It’s just not true, it really isn’t.
When your male 19 year old coworker informs you that there are plenty more fish in the sea go ahead and inform him that his head is stuck in his ass. Or go ahead and give him this speech/rant that I thought up after the fact:
This finding fish in the sea business is like trying to find a red solo cup that someone hasn’t drank out of already when you arrive at a party after 2 am. Whatever cup you are picking up at that point actually belongs to someone else (referencing the act of cheating) or you search high and low for a damn cup and you can’t find one so you grab a bottle and drink straight from it (referencing the act of binge drinking instead of sitting sober and alone in your apartment).
Looking for a red solo cup after 2 am and looking for “fish” in your mid 20’s result in the same sad drunken conclusion and the only thing you’ve found is a couch to pass out on.
Here is the thing, people mean for this phrase to be encouraging, and that’s sweet, but it’s also really dumb. People who don’t even know anyone who is single at your age still state this pathetic phrase to you. Want to trip them up? Ask for an example. Watch them scramble around in their brain trying to remember someone who is not in a relationship.
They’ll usually reach the same person in the end, someone you have all known for awhile, who works at blockbuster and lives with his mom and you just go right on ahead and let that friend know that that is not a fish they just mentioned, that’s the moss growing on the side of a rock. If you squint too hard while underwater it could almost look like the shape of a really round fish but lets be real.
And then your friend will say oh come on! There are plenty of guys out there.
Feel free to then tell your friend about all the guys you’ve met recently.
The guy at the grocery store who seems to be stocking things every tuesday night when you’re there, and you chat it up with him occasionally. Guess what? He’s married.
The guy who always wears plaid shirts and grey sweaters and smiles at you and gets his coffee around the same time as you, has a kid, and is trying to work things out with the kids mom, as you learn when he tells the barista.
The guy who came out with a friend of a friend and was cute and ordered the same beer as you and then ordered another when his girlfriend arrived.
The guy who lives below you in your new apartment complex looked cute from a far until you heard him bang his older and extremely overweight girlfriend at all hours of the night and then also you see him up close and you were wrong about the cute part.
The techie guy who you recently made first attempts to flirt with fills you in on how he has been married for years and is younger than you.
That customer who bartends nearby and always chats it up with you has recently been bringing up his new girlfriend and how he is cleaning their apartment to impress her parents.
That hipster guy who is in your friends band liked one of your pictures and then posted a picture of the rose he was giving the “girl of his dreams”.
Hey I’m just saying, you give your friend all that to chew on I guarantee they will never use that phrase again.
These are just a handful of examples of the “fish in my sea” that aren’t fish at all because they are not available to be fished.
Maybe when you’re 19 though and you’re meeting people in your classes, at parties, through your retail job with other 19 year olds, and in your dorms and student-filled apartment complexes, there’s too many fish to know what to do with.
Like you have to divide your fish out. Salmon this night and some eel this weekend but then come monday I really gotta see about that trout (how often do people really eat trout? Do I know anything about this?) and your sea is full whoop-de-da-de for you.
But the fish have been plucked when you’re a post grad in your mid 20’s.
That’s something that a 19 year old wouldn’t know and apparently not my mother either.
Though she has stopped it with the fish line and has now reverted simply to just “you could meet someone tomorrow”
I sometimes almost reply back with “I probably will, and he will probably be gay.”