I like to think of my life as being a lot like Jesus'.
Well actually, that's a lie (which kinda makes me pretty un-Jesus-like right off the bat). I guess when it comes down to it there aren't really many concrete comparisons of any substantial resonance you could make between our lives. I guess what I meant was more akin to the fact that my life has been divided in a fashion that mimics His own, in a way.
Kind of like with Jesus' life you have BC and AD, for my own holy existence (holy as in full of holes—no need to be blasphemous after all) you have PC (pre-college) and AC (after-college). Similarly (enough), my time in college mimics Jesus' own lost youth in that it is not on record. Technically I guess I'm still in college but we'll just accord that with the glaring inconsistency that Jesus' mom was a virgin. This introductory anecdote is starting to get away from me, so I figure I should probably get to the point.
Getting older sucks, and not just because it makes people like Nate DeGraaf proffer their opinion on the nation's politics and economy…in an internet humor column. (Seriously?) Getting older suck for a wide variety of reasons. Today, though, I am going to focus on one in particular: parties.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, parties. Just say that word to yourself aloud for a second: Paaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrtttttttttty. Now mouth it: P-A-R-T-Y. -Whoa, no need to be a pervert about it. What comes to mind for you? Do you think of Jagermeister, keg stands, and cheap domestic beer? Maybe Spring Break, replete with bikinis, beaches, and boats? Or perhaps something even more frat-tacular like jungle juice, beer pong and flip cup? Well being as that's all so fan-fucking-tastic and I'm super happy for you, let me give you an idea of what it brings to mind for me: a table of people arguing over how to split a dinner bill.
We have now created a situation where women have to repeatedly find legitimate reasons to purchase new outfits.That's right, when you get older, birthday parties transition from legendary liquor-fueled ragers into…dinner. You might wonder why this is, in which case I'm more than ready and willing to tell you it's because of: dresses.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, so allow me to contextualize for you.
As responsible adults with real jobs you can't get drunk just to…get drunk. Crazy, I know, but the thought of going into work the next morning, a possible DUI, or even a kid sleeping at home can all complicate things in an awful hurry when it comes to drinking on a whim. Furthermore, it just isn't socially acceptable to get bombed on a weeknight for no apparent reason. Generally speaking, alcoholism is surprisingly looked down upon in society once you graduate from college. Beyond that, though, circles of friendship tend to go through an incredible metamorphosis after school ends.
Social groups die out, cleave off, and completely re-adjoin themselves in the most peculiar and uncontrollable ways. Most of the realignments are the result of serious relationships and this is because the lifestyle of a true adult only really sets in after you sign your social death warrant by moving in with a significant other. This lifestyle difference between partnered vs. unpartnered people, or however you would like to term it, marks the proverbial line in the sand when it come to social activities and how they are perceived AND ordained.
And so, even though no other primate in the animal kingdom would ever participate in such an utterly unnatural and unevolutionary act, because of the delightful concept of "one partner for life" that our society has so willingly embodied—at the behest of a book written by an old man with a white beard who hates gay people—we have now created a situation where women not only have to repeatedly find legitimate reasons to purchase new outfits, but are also wholly empowered to manifest these events in the guise of birthday parties seemingly at will.
Your dress is really pretty, where did you get it?
That's a colorful flapper you have, who's it by?
What a stunning Kitty Foyle that is, Lisa.
This is why the utter awesomeness that we once beheld as birthday righteousness has been destroyed. For billowy frocks and pleated skirts. So a bunch of partnered people can begin the process of designating the differences between couples and the unpartnered in the name of Chanel and Dior.
Party on, party people.
More Like This