Ten days ’til Broad Street. The nerves are ramping up. I checked Weather.com and so far it looks perfect for the 4th; low 43, high 63, partly sunny, or partly cloudy depending on how you look at it. I’m just happy not seeing rain.
I’m starting to think about the expo. I have to go on Friday because I have a writing workshop all day Saturday and I won’t make it to the city in time. I want to run another 10 miles on Sunday, which means I’m going to have to get up early (on the only day I didn’t need to get up early) in order to fit it in before another outing at 2. But if I do it early, the rest of the day is mine. This is where I remind myself of the Facebook meme, “I don’t have to run. I *get* to run.”
Had an interesting message this week, from a 24 year old CPA in Philly who wanted to know if I’d be interested in a FWB arrangement, because “I’ve always had a thing for older women and I’m now trying to fulfill that fantasy.”
I can’t even begin to say how many ways this pissed me off. First, he’s 5 years older than my son. Next, he clearly has Mommy issues he needs to work on. Third, I AM NOT OLDER. Yes, I’m 47, but I don’t look it and I sure as hell don’t feel it, so having some CHILD point that out to me in the guise of, “I think it’d be cool to get laid with a woman twice my age” did not entice me in the slightest. It actually made me want to wash my hands in battery acid to make the icky feeling go away.
I suppose he thought I’d consider it a compliment to be seen as someone’s fantasy, but the one thing I will say for age and wisdom is, I’ve learned that more often than not, fantasies are psychological issues you need to resolve in order to face and appreciate reality. I don’t have fantasies anymore; I want the real thing. I don’t play Walter Mitty, sitting around wishing I could run a race; I go out and sign up and train for one, and then I do it. I don’t sit back wondering what it’d be like if (fill in the blank); I’m going to go f*cking do it. The other day I saw a pic on FB that said, “You don’t scare me; I run marathons.” I haven’t even run one yet but already I’m starting to feel that way. Yes, I’m scared spitless that I can’t do it, but that won’t stop me from trying. I’d rather try and fail than wish I’d made the attempt.
Something this young whippersnapper doesn’t know how to do yet. Forget the fantasies, child, and go get what’s real. Okay, so he’s trying to make his fantasy real, but fantasies are for vacations, and vacations aren’t forever.
But I did buy a bottle of hair color because while I feel like I’ve earned my gray hairs, they’re starting to take over. I don’t feel my age, and I don’t have to look it either.