In aught but a few short days, I’ll be thirty-three. It’ll be a day just like any other and the only thing I’d like present-wise is Kushiel’s Avatar – not because I’ve loved the series so much I can’t put it down, but because I’d like to finish the trilogy seeing that I’m slightly OCD about things like that and now I’m half-way through the second book. (I know there are about a billion other books in related trilogies, with Phedre’s daughter and so on and so forth, but let’s not go there, kthxbai.)
So turning thirty-three doesn’t really mean that much to me except it’s my scary age – you know, the age that every girl decides she’s going to get married and have kids by. Not that I ever really wanted to have kids while I was growing up (I used to play endlessly with horses and not dolls…) but I thought somehow by the age of thirty-three, my life would magically work itself out, and I’d have two feet firmly on the path of family hood.
Except what actually happened was, I got engaged at 21, married at 24 and divorced at 28. Now at the ripe old age of 32 yrs and 359 days I’m a slave with no out-clause in my ‘contract’ and rarely a day goes by that I don’t wonder:
“Is this right for me?”
I’m sure if I were married with kids, I’d probably be thinking the exact same thing considering the grass-is-greener phenomenon comes fully into play with stuff like this, but still, the thought goes through my mind often enough to really make me wonder what is right for me.
Sometimes I really get tired of the ‘being kinky’ thing. Not only is it, a lot of the time, like swimming upstream against a raging current for me, but it really complicates everyday matters. Life is filled with land-mines like trying to find a collar-friendly workplace, keeping work/vanilla friends separate from kink friends, hiding the St Andrew’s cross when the lawnmower man comes, keeping my kink identity and my vanilla identity separate, having friends who I can only call by their screen name on Fetlife and who I know nothing about, having five million email addresses, a nom de plume and the list goes on. Sometimes I really can’t be bothered to do it all, I just want to live without worrying about all that stuff and the simplest way to do that, is funnily enough, to be vanilla.
I think a lot of my problem is that I’ve always gone out with older men. They’ve always tended to have ‘been there and done that’ in life. They’ve had their adventures, been through several relationships and have checked lots of things off their ‘to do in life’ lists, whereas I still wanted to climb the mountains just because they were there, without being told not to bother because there was nothing at the top anyway.
I’ve tended to shy away from guys the same age, or younger because I’m a big fan of maturity and it’s good to have a guy with his shit together, but I can also see the attraction of a younger guy now. The adventure is still there and you can discover stuff together. I’ve often thought I would of liked to have been with Master twenty years ago to share in some of his adventures and have some new experiences together. It’s very hard now to find something that’s new for him and many of his ideas and thoughts are set hard in concrete. I’d still like to be able to enjoy my fleeting youth and have some fun, but it’s not quite as easy as that.
So yeah, my scary age is upon me. What I’d really love to know though, is why I’m having to research anti-wrinkle creams, since I’m of that age now, but I’m still dealing with zits??!!?? Whose sick, twisted idea of a joke was that???