When I go to my parents’ house I kind of just want to lie on the couch all day and veg out in front of the Food Network, reading or nodding off when it fails to hold my attention or someone turns the channel to sports or Modern Marvels. Today I was bribed to venture out “for lunch,” which turned into “the honey store and then lunch,” which turned into “be ambushed by chat with high school friend’s mom at the honey store and then eat lunch at a place where I used to work and where a high school classmate’s sister is now waiting tables.” All of this is merely to say that I wish I’d put on makeup and maybe not ventured out with such disastrous hair (due to the hard water, I think). But whatever, at least when they ask, “Is there anyone special?” and I answer, “No. Lots of false starts,” they can attribute it to my lack of makeup and my fluffy hair in need of product and my general state of going downhill and perhaps lack of trying instead of whatever other reasons there really are. Well, in addition to those other reasons, maybe.
I don’t know why it bothered me so much today, but it really did. I feel like my education doesn’t matter down there, nor do my great friends or good job or nice little apartment — it all comes down to “significant others” and “little ones,” and that’s just not a game I’m hoping to win (or really even play). It’s okay. I’ve got mascara on now, and my hair is almost good, even, and I’m headed out to set the record straight.