So, I turned 23 March 15. WooHoo ...
I wasn't really looking forward to the big 2-3, but I wasn't dreading it or anything, either. That is, until two nights before my birthday.
Since I have grad classes every Monday and Wednesday morning, I usually stay in Jonesboro Sunday and Tuesday nights.
March 13 I was at a friend's house, and we were talking about my advancing age when her mom chimed in.
"Oh girlfriend's got a birthday, huh? How old are you Brookie?"
It was as if shock and pity came to her eyes. "No way, why aren't you -- MARRIED -- you don't even date anyone, do you?"
(Keep in mind the friend whose mother just broke my heart had just turned 21 and has been dating the same guy for over two years. Yes, she makes me sick.)
I was really taken aback by the statement, but what I said seemed to shock mommy dearest even more. "Well, I don't know ... I'm not ready."
"Oh whatever, you old spinster," she said, laughingly.
That was it. That was all it took. Even though it was sort of a joke, the question kept me up all night wondering, "Is there something wrong with me? Seriously, Brooke, you don't even have a prospect?"
Don't get me wrong, I do want to eventually get married. And I'd be lying if I said that I haven't thrown myself more than one pity party lamenting my loneliness.
But, I've got a lot on my plate right now. I am working on my master's in journalism while working full time as a newspaper reporter. To do this, I'm forced to drive over 300 miles every week. Plus, I have a wonderful family of friends that I must maintain quality time with -- whether it be staying up watching "O.C." reruns until 3 a.m., two hour phone conversations or going dancing on the weekends -- it is crucial.
Then there's the whole issue of finding the right guy.
Now, I'm not always attracted to typically handsome men. For some unknown reason, I'm drawn to emotionally twisted skateboarder wannabes who have to constantly flip their shaggy hair out of their eyes. Believe it or not, though, this type rarely has what I'm looking for.
I'm extremely dry and sarcastic, so he must click with my humor. He has to have ambition, be good with kids, appreciate '80s hair bands, love sports (by sports I mean football, baseball, college basketball and even golf as long as its not on the TV), love the beach, gladly scratch my head at my heart's desire and love the Cardinals. And if he plays the guitar that's a definite plus.
But, there's still me.
I'm a closet book nerd and a punk rocker wannabe who cries every time I watch "The Notebook." I still watch The Disney Channel. I love GNR, Keith Urban, FlyLeaf, Def Leopard, Tom Petty, Nirvana, Britney Spears, The Beatles and old school Garth Brooks. My favorite color is pink, and my two favorite pairs of shoes are my vintage checkered Vans and red, patent leather stilettoes. I love the beach but am mesmerized by the Manhattan lifestyle. I wear my heart on my sleave. And, before I die, I must learn how to play the guitar and surf, live on the West Coast and have my own column in a fashion magazine.
That's me -- hard to put it all together, huh?
I know. I'm still working on trying to figure ME out. But, once I do, maybe then I'll be ready for that next step.