Aunt Skelly had a Date

I went on a date tonight.  Your Aunt Skelly went on a real live date with a breathing man who asked her.  I laughed at the right moments, I answered questions in a witty yet still self-depricatingly human way....and all in all if I were to be given a grade by the dean of dates, I sure as hell would have made his list and passed with flying colors.  And ya know what??? It was freakin exhausting- and by the way...it's only 11:22 PM.  I am 25 years old and I should feel young and carefree. I should probably be dancing on a bar somewhere or exiting a cab with my beaver hanging out for all of the Meatpacking District to accidentally glimpse.  I shouldn't have to even answer to a dean of dates...I should BE the dean of dates.  But I can't.

It's kinda how I feel on New Years Eve - making it the worst night of the year.  I'm not here to ramble about the usual complaints like the clusterfuck in any given city or the debacle over who you are gonna press your mouth against at midnight because you're single and everyone at the party is taken or gay.  I don't like New Years Eve for the same reasons I don't like Friday and Saturday nights.  I'd rather be in my bed with a Manbooker Prize-winning novel and a bag of M&Ms.  I'd rather be watching an ironic cartoon in my flannel pajamas, but yet I feel pressure.  I don't want to be a sex kitten at a club competing for the guidos' attention.  I can't stand first dates with men who picked me up at an underground hipster bar named "Home Sweet Home" ...a place that looks more like the den of the guy from Silence of the Lambs than a place to get buzzed with over-privileged 20-somethings.  And YET. Sometimes...most times...I feel totally alone in my anti - young-fun-time sentiments.  I just want to be 79 years old so I can watch Boy Meets World re-runs in peace and not feel guilty for wasting my perky breasts and small wrists on a gallon of ice cream and Ben Savage in all his 11 year-old prime.  I AM A SQUARE. Maybe next time I'm tempted to accept an invitation to an overpriced bar with a man I met while ironically dancing to the hits of the 80s like they are our jam...like we can actually remember rocking out to them while pooping our diapers and teething...maybe I'll be more inclined to be myself and tell him no.  Tell him that I like my retainer too much and I have to take my fish oil pills by 11 -- that I'm halfway through Season 2 of Bob's Burgers and even though I watched season 3 first, I'm still super invested and super busy.

btw...if you're reading this and any of the above sounds remotely attractive to you...hit me up.  I have a fantastic list on goodreads.com we can chat about and a Hulu Plus membership I mooch from my homosexual ex-boyfriend.