It occurred to me lately that some of the things I used to relish, aren't as much fun now that I'm allowed to do them. For instance, last night I had a late meeting at work. I finished up at about 8:30 and was getting ready to drive home when I decided, "I want a beer instead." So I went to my favorite local bar and ordered a drink. And no one stopped me. No one pulled me aside and said, "Annie, this is a school night, you shouldn't be drinking!" and no one said, "For God sakes girl, your tummy, ass and thighs don't need a wheat beer--get an MGD 64 instead." No one. And as I snuck back to my apartment at around 10:30 at night, no one asked me where I'd been or why I smelled like construction workers, grease, and beer (which is basically how the bar in question smells). And then I looked at my little one-bedroom apartment, and I felt little lonely, so I texted my neighbor and asked if he wanted to hang out and drink yet another beer with me. Again, no one asked what I thought I was doing, staying up so late on a work late, or didn't I think I'd had enough alcohol for one evening...and it somehow made drinking on the balcony with my neighbor a little less awesome.
I remember in high school as much of a loser as I was, it still gave me a little thrill to be able to bend the rules or do somehting forbidden. I took a puff of the high school drama star's cigar (who I had a crush on at the time and has since, SUPRISE SUPRISE turned out to be a homosexual) at the cast party my freshman year of high school and I remember defiantly gagging on it, while others looked on shocked. The next couple of days I was afraid someone might "tell" and I would lose my scholar athlete designation (which obviously would have ruined the rest of my life) but it was a thrilling fear, though, like being on a rollar coaster or eating fish tacos from a street vendor. And I have to say, while I'm pretty glad I have a nice apartment all to myself, there is nothing like kissing goodnight a little too passionately in the car, the gear shift jabbing your spleen, and worrying your dad heard the car pull-up and is wondering why it's taking you so long to get inside. Now the only authority figure in my life is my cat--and while she definitely gives me accusatory glances when I come home late, mostly it's because she wants her cat food and not because she's capable of invoking Catholic-guilt.
No one tells you this about adulthood. The things you scheme and imagine doing when you're sixteen years old aren't actually the things adults do. And it never occurs to you at 16 that part of being an adult is buying a plunger at Walgreen's or registering your car at the DMV. AND even more upsetting, when you do do (haha do do) what you dreamed of doing it's not as much fun because there's no one there to tell you "no". I could literally stay up all night and eat dorrittos and little debby snack cakes except I can't stay up all night because I get sleepy at about 11 on weekends and I'd have a sugar hangover at work the next day.
But, just to prove I still got it--I wrote this blog at work. Take that establishment!
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