salt and men.

(disclaimer: this is all over the place. sorry)

this past weekend was Mary Stanley's 21st birthday. I made the trip to Clemson to celebrate with her in her favorite place. while i had a blast, i also realized that i have become old. i remember, way back when, people saying "enjoy this age while it lasts, because before you know it youll be 30 (or 28, 40, 75)". i never in my wildest dreams thought that id be giving that same advice to my younger friends; much less giving that advice at the ripe age of 23.  then i started thinking about where i was just two years ago. a senior in college, unsure of who i was or where i was going, letting the same guy run all over me (and then back up and run over me again), and confused about life in general. at 21 i realized that my entire life plan, the one of finishing 1st place in the "ring by spring" race, had completely fallen apart. but even more confusing than not being engaged at 21 was the fact that i was HAPPY about it.

when the first of MANY, MANY, MANY friends got married i was 21. and it completely freaked me out. to the point that i didnt attend the wedding-- not because i didnt agree, because i do love them both. but because i couldnt imagine myself standing at that alter. so, instead, i traveled to Kentucky for the USC game, drank an abundance of tequila, fell for an older guy and got my heart broken yet again. 

thats right, my twenty-first year was salt filled, lime flavored and tequila marinated. and i wouldnt change it one bit. i learned that i love jose cuervo, and hate relationships. i learned that margaritas are stronger when on the rocks and that each and every guy you get involved with will screw you over in some way. and most importantly, i learned that while margaritas taste better with salt- they are still just as strong and great on their own; as am i.

i watched my mom go through shitty relationship after shitty relationship throughout my whole life. between the money-laundering-compulsive-liar and the early-onset-balding-douchebag i learned that settling for dick heads was not only inappropriate but a quick way to to become border line depressed. my mom is convinced that she is the reason i am bitter towards all relationships. she is dead set on the fact that my fear of commitment comes directly from her failed courtships. however, what she doesnt realize is that my fears result from my own experiences; and it is my independence that i got from her mishaps. when each and every one of those guys let her down, she kept going. that woman is stronger than any brand of tequila i have ever tasted. (and that happens to be a lot)

thank God i failed miserably at that race. i cant begin to imagine life at 23 as a wife. i cant even figure out how to get my cat to calm the fuck down- much less a screaming infant. i love tequila too much at this point in my life to give it up for 9 months. and the only bottle i want to be fixing has a slimy hallucinogenic worm at the bottom of it.

oh, to be young and 21 again.