I'm only 25. I just want to put that out there into the universe before we even get started. Twenty. Five.
A few years ago I put the brakes on my fast-track post college life and moved back in with my parents. It was a temporary thing, just so I could take a little breather and figure out what it really was that I wanted to do with my life. It was the best choice I could have made for myself at the time. Unfortunately, that's not what my grandparents thought.
Both my mom's and my dad's parents are still alive and kicking. I'm so blessed, right? They've watched me grow up, from diapers and dolls through awkward adolescence straight through to adulthood. And they've had something to say about it all.
While I was on my hiatus from responsibility, my dad's very German parents paid me a visit at the 'ole casa. Did I mention they are German? And very very old school. Things were going fine...until the first morning of their stay. As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, I was greeted by the sounds of both my parents and my grandparents enjoying their breakfast around the table. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, pinched my cheeks for some color, and braved the entrance.
Trying to avoid conversation at the ungodly hour of 9:30 (What? I was on a break, remember?), I quietly poured myself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a few eggs from the fridge to make an omelet. The grandparents immediately pounced.
"Why are you making an omelet?" (Because they're tasty.)
"Why would you make something like that for just you." (I'm sorry, did you want one, too?)
"Oh it's such a shame that you have to cook for yourself. That's what happens when you live alone." (...crickets...)
In just 10 minutes my morning had gone from regular old eggs to YOU ARE ALONE AND DOOMED TO SPINSTERHOOD WHERE YOU'LL GET OLD AND SHRIVELED AND THEN NO ONE WILL WANT YOU.
You see, I have dealt them the ultimate blow. I've failed at the one thing they've prayed for, the one thing they've looked forward to since that hot day in August when the doctor said "It's A Girl!" and held me up like Simba in The Lion King. I have yet to snag a wealthy guy, get married and have babies. Oh the horror.
That was in 2007. I've since moved to Nashville and started an awesome new chapter in life. I'm still single, and the comments have only gotten louder. Loud enough for me to feel the need to broadcast them on the internet. So here are my stories of "living alone" and everything that comes with it - navigating the dating world, forging a career path, remodeling my old house, and enjoying my social life (even if it sometimes means being a plus one).
Full disclosure: I don't actually live alone. Quite the opposite, really. My house has three bedrooms and all three are occupied. No, not by my cats. I don't even like cats.
A few years ago I put the brakes on my fast-track post college life and moved back in with my parents. It was a temporary thing, just so I could take a little breather and figure out what it really was that I wanted to do with my life. It was the best choice I could have made for myself at the time. Unfortunately, that's not what my grandparents thought.
Both my mom's and my dad's parents are still alive and kicking. I'm so blessed, right? They've watched me grow up, from diapers and dolls through awkward adolescence straight through to adulthood. And they've had something to say about it all.
While I was on my hiatus from responsibility, my dad's very German parents paid me a visit at the 'ole casa. Did I mention they are German? And very very old school. Things were going fine...until the first morning of their stay. As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, I was greeted by the sounds of both my parents and my grandparents enjoying their breakfast around the table. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, pinched my cheeks for some color, and braved the entrance.
Trying to avoid conversation at the ungodly hour of 9:30 (What? I was on a break, remember?), I quietly poured myself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a few eggs from the fridge to make an omelet. The grandparents immediately pounced.
"Why are you making an omelet?" (Because they're tasty.)
"Why would you make something like that for just you." (I'm sorry, did you want one, too?)
"Oh it's such a shame that you have to cook for yourself. That's what happens when you live alone." (...crickets...)
In just 10 minutes my morning had gone from regular old eggs to YOU ARE ALONE AND DOOMED TO SPINSTERHOOD WHERE YOU'LL GET OLD AND SHRIVELED AND THEN NO ONE WILL WANT YOU.
You see, I have dealt them the ultimate blow. I've failed at the one thing they've prayed for, the one thing they've looked forward to since that hot day in August when the doctor said "It's A Girl!" and held me up like Simba in The Lion King. I have yet to snag a wealthy guy, get married and have babies. Oh the horror.
That was in 2007. I've since moved to Nashville and started an awesome new chapter in life. I'm still single, and the comments have only gotten louder. Loud enough for me to feel the need to broadcast them on the internet. So here are my stories of "living alone" and everything that comes with it - navigating the dating world, forging a career path, remodeling my old house, and enjoying my social life (even if it sometimes means being a plus one).
Full disclosure: I don't actually live alone. Quite the opposite, really. My house has three bedrooms and all three are occupied. No, not by my cats. I don't even like cats.
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