A field guide to growing up without growing apart
I woke up this morning to an email from an old… flame, and I… I don’t really know how I want to process it. Really long story sort of short (read: remember that data project I was working on?), he and I became close during […]
The other day my husband wanted to tell me about an “interesting conversation” he’d had with a coworker. Apparently, during a casual conversation about their religious and cultural differences (Christian/Western vs. Muslim/Arab), the coworker had asked my husband if he would ever consider marrying a […]
It’s my birthday! And Cindy’s birthday! And we’re turning 25. Holy. Crap.
This time last year Cindy wrote a beautiful ode to our twinship, explaining how learning of our shared birthday has become such an important part of our lives since. This year I wanted to return the love, taking a second to express my gratitude to the universe for allowing me to share a birthday with a friend, especially her.
When I was younger my birthday was the best event of the year. My creative parents allowed me to dream big, putting together epic pie baking events, dress up performances and jewelry box decorating bliss. One year we had a scavenger hunt at the airport, running from terminal to terminal to find a purple suitcase or a photograph of 4 or more people and another birthday we rode the light rail train in circles while we played games and got to know the big city. I even remember my dad making me a PVC pipe teepee for my Pocahontas-themed party one year, my mother helping us make our own fringe covered purses to tote around proudly. Back then birthdays were things to be celebrated, excuses for all your friends to come together to celebrate you (and the Spice Girls), but once you hit high school all that changes.
Suddenly it is no longer cool to plan birthday adventures, and even if you do, good luck getting all of your friends to agree to join in. Jessica can’t stand Brittany and Katie would never have fun doing that, besides, Sally doesn’t have any time anyway. In high school I’d be lucky if I got four or five people together to see a movie and go get ice cream, much less trap all my friends in one room to do something really awesome.
And let’s not forget the added pressure we feel as we’re taught to apologize for getting ‘older.’ All we want to do when we’re younger is grow up and become the people we’re meant to be, but with little warning that optimism is crushed, unexpectedly turned on its head as people remind you again and again that aging is bad. Sure you want your driver’s license and to be 21 so you can go to those cool concerts, but you also know that it’s all downhill from there – birthdays only bringing you closer and closer to the end of your youth ( i.e. the end of your happiness). In high school you learn your birthday is no longer an accomplishment; instead it becomes something to avoid, something you’ve done wrong.
I had low birthday expectations when I moved away for college since my birthday came around only a month in, leaving me with limited time to build my friend group or hope for any type of celebration. Had Cindy not taken me in and allowed me to crash her party my day would have gone something like, “Hey, I’m Booty, want to be my friend and celebrate my birthday even though we just met!?” Instead we ate funfetti and had our first twin competition (wii tennis is intense!), bonding over much more than a shared day of birth and our love of basketball. It was the day I knew I’d found friends I’d have for a while, a turning point in the way my life would go from there on out, a birthday I love to remember.
Ever since I’ve found myself looking forward to our shared birthday, excited to know that no matter how the year went I’d always have someone to celebrate with. And celebrate we did, taking groups of friends out to dinners and bars, exploring arcades and running through city fountains. We stayed up until midnight to buy our first bottle of alcohol together and even stayed in to paint our stomachs on our 22nd just because we’d always wanted to. With Cindy by my side we recreated those birthday adventures of my youth in even more wonderful ways, allowing ourselves to dream big because we had a guaranteed partner, a guaranteed reason to celebrate.
The year after we graduated, Cindy’s soon to be fiancé asked me to help him propose on our birthday, planning an elaborate scavenger hunt and flying in from out of town to surprise her with a ring. I agreed wholeheartedly of course, though admittedly there were moments I was worried that this new anniversary would infringe on our special day. We were already feeling the pressure of graduation and moving forward with out lives, would the loss of this connection make things even harder?
But everything turned out perfectly, because his elaborate proposal allowed me and Cindy (and Snow) to share a day of adventure that I’ll always cherish. When I think of that day, I think of all the fun we had running around Seattle following his clues and enjoying each other. I think of the beautiful photos I got to take of my friend on one of the happiest days of her life. I think of how much I love her and how grateful I am to be her twin.
This year I miss her more than ever, but without her I’ve realized how important it is to ask for what I want on my birthday. No longer do adventures just fall into place, and no longer can I settle for a lame high school get together full of drama. So instead I made the choice to turn 25 in style, spending last weekend in Seattle, visiting Snow and catching up with college friends. Last night I organized a birthday dinner with some old friends who I never get to see and I leave to visit my cousin in Denver tomorrow. It is definitely an overwhelming week, but if not on your birthday when else do you do the things you want?
So thank you world, for giving me a beautiful reason to look forward to my birthday. My twin is an easy reminder that I’ll always have someone to celebrate with, that getting older will always be an accomplishment and that birthdays are a great excuse to do the things you’ve always wanted. I’m so glad to know her. Love you Cindy.
Hey there Princesses, I’m alive! And hello there to all you readers of our little blog that helps us 20-somethings stay in touch! It feels like our audience has doubled in the last few weeks I’ve been off the grid and though we get little […]
My first year of marriage was freaking awesome. Seriously, it really seemed like things couldn’t be better. We both had jobs we enjoyed, we had plenty of money, we traveled to more than 12 different countries, and we spent a ridiculous number of hours cuddling. […]
Oh brothers. But this time I’m not talking about the kind you think.
This post is about the non-kin kind, the kind of brothers that felt so alien when you were younger but now seem like your friend’s twin, the kind of brothers you’ve never really had a conversation with and yet you know more about them than their Facebook page could ever say, the kind of bothers that are so attractive that when they stop by to pick your friend up for Thanksgiving you’re not sure how long it took you to stop staring at the door after they left. I’m talking about the kind of brothers that are way more complicated than your own, because how on earth are you supposed to interact with a human who your friend both adores, hates, looks up to and is entirely disgusted by – especially when said brother happens to be flirting back.
Chances are you’ve come upon many a brotherly flirtation over the years, awkward interactions at sleepovers, passing the platter at dinner, bonding over your friend’s hysterical quirk. These are the boys you’re supposed to ignore, tease or despise and yet I can’t be the only one who has trouble ignoring my favorite qualities in my friends that also happen to come in a nicely packaged xy-chromosome exterior. Doesn’t falling for your best friend’s brother make perfect sense?!
We all know I’m a crusher by nature, so really it is undeniable that the siblings of my friends would end up on my radar. It is no secret that I can’t wait for Cindy’s youngest brother to grow into a stud and that I think my friend’s brother Simon is the most attractive thing to ever happen. The only brother I think I’ve managed to avoid crushing on is Charlie, the one whose twin is my oldest friend. The three of us grew up together, and I’ve been told I should end up with him so many times that just this weekend when a family friend asked me when we were going to get to together I knew just what to say to change the subject. I love Charlie and I can’t deny that whenever he seeks me out to catch up I’m thrilled, but it’s not fun to crush on people you’re told to, especially when every other one of your friends has fallen for him at one point or another.
On the whole I can usually keep my emotions in check when it comes to brothers, keeping my crush in the realm of a joke or the unreal because they’re usually just that, attractions that I have no intention of genuinely pursuing. But interacting with brothers is a delicate balance and it’s really too bad that the one person you want to discuss it with is your one friend who really doesn’t want to hear it.
So this weekend when I hung out with one of said brothers, it was pretty much a given I’d have all sorts of conflicting emotions.
I’ve gone camping with him and his sister hundreds of times and though it has been a year since I’ve seen either of them, we are used to picking right up where we left off. He’s grown up a ton in the last few years, jumping from angsty teen to active, optimistic, 20-something in what feels like a matter of seconds. So it was nice to get to know this older, awesome version of a kid whose homemade fireworks I used to run from, especially when he made it clear how highly he thought of me and my family (he called us the salt of the earth) and how undeniably awesome he was when it came to doing the things around camp that needed to be done. Out of all of us this weekend he was the rock, the one that never complained and always put a smile on our faces. His attitude and energy level just blew me away and he went out of his way to make me and everyone feel appreciated. I am so proud of him and how far he‘s come.
So at first it was great that he and the awesome friend I brought along hit it off. They bonded over everything, looking at the world in many of the same ways and sharing an affinity for hiking and skiing. I was glad that she’d settled in well to our group, and even impressed at how easily they flirted. But as the hours turned to days I found myself incredibly and uselessly jealous. Jealous of the time he kept her away from me, jealous of the attention she kept him from giving me, jealous of the way they looked at each other while I was sitting alone.
I think that was the biggest problem; I was watching an all too familiar adventure from the sidelines. River trips are magical weekends, throwing together people for days on end without technology or real life to distract us from what makes us happy. When I was 17 the older (much older) cousin of my friend came along on one of our trips and he and I became inseparable. He’d seek me out when I was sitting alone and throw me over his shoulder when we were playing touch football. Over campfires he told me I had my whole life ahead of me and under the stars he was the first guy to tell me I was beautiful. That trip was a pivotal moment in my life, showing me how I could be and giving me many of the tools to make it so.
That same magic happened again when just last summer I got to the river and my friend’s younger brother was suddenly 20-something and taller than me. He was mine all weekend, flirting and teasing in ways that were way more fun than the sibling-like teasing we used to do. Every time I’ve seen him since that same tension is still there and while I know we won’t actually work out, I can’t deny that the dream of our merged families is fun sometimes.
This time around as I watched my friend flirt with the guy I know is wonderful, it was odd feeling torn between two jealousies. In many ways I wanted another experience like the ones I’d had before; he’s a great guy and there is no reason we wouldn’t work. But in other ways I was on the other side of it, watching my friend make a move on a guy I think of as my brother, feeling slightly betrayed and not altogether okay. I watched as she drew him in, and suddenly I didn’t trust my friend with my almost brother’s emotions. I know it’s all good, both of them are going to be in my life forever whether or not they end up dating and they’re both grown ups – I know they can take care of themselves, but is that how all my friends feel when I flirt with their brothers? Why did it hurt so much to watch two people I love share their happiness? Why do I want to have not only all his attention but also hers? Isn’t knowing we’re all friends enough? Does this come back to the best friend problem?
I shouldn’t be surprised, there have been plenty of moments when my actual brother has sought out one of my friends over me, leaving me thoroughly heartbroken in the process. It’s always something useless, like sharing a link on Facebook, but it still hurts when two people I love share a moment without me. I don’t get that way with his other friends, or even his girlfriends, but people who were ‘mine’ first definitely come with a different set of boundaries. Any idea why?
Mostly everything is fine, we all had a great weekend and I had plenty of beautiful time alone with everyone. I know this particular brother thinks well of me (his sister told me that on their way to the tent one night he said, if there were more people like [Sleeping Booty] in the world it would be a better place). He even got my number from his sister and texted me the next day to make sure we’d promise to hangout more.
I just wish I could figure out how to deal with this mystery that is the brothers of my friends (hug or no hug upon greeting?!) and why it is so difficult for sisters to really be totally okay with their friends and brothers becoming more.
Oh Brother. Where, oh where to start. I’ve written here and there about him on this blog already but writing an entire post on my favorite (and only) brother seems ridiculously daunting. He and I go way back, back to when he was born and […]
I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and I knew from a young age that meant setting myself up for a lifetime of relatively low wages and under-appreciation. But you don’t go into teaching because you want to make money. Still, when I was offered […]
So I’m single. I have been for a while. And in my day to day life it is most often not an issue. I have great family and friends and I don’t feel I lack love in any way. I even find ways to get my fix of butterflies by smiling at grocers and flipping my hair for garage sale men. It is all good. But upon waking up this morning I found Facebook had chosen today to remind me that maybe I’m slightly too casual about this whole not needing someone to love thing.
As of a few hours ago one of my crushes is officially engaged to his adorable girlfriend of 3+ years. Both their Facebook pages are ablaze with likes and comments and while I want to be happy for them, I just can’t quite believe that they never broke up. A year or so into their relationship one of our mutual friends confessed to me that she didn’t really see this particular couple’s compatibility, that she worried his shy girlfriend was holding him back, that he’d become less himself since they’d gotten together. As wonderful as his girlfriend was, she said, this girl just wasn’t right for her friend. Those words stuck with me because it was true, this boy wasn’t the same one I’d crushed on before they’d met.
I’m not delusional enough to think that he should have broken up with her and ended up with me; he and I are even less compatible than he and his fiancé, but their engagement has made me think; am I reaching the age of Where Have All the Good Men Gone? What if that is a real thing and all the good ones are actually gone?
Up until now I’ve largely thought of boys my age as just that, boys. Most 24 year olds are still kids who need a few more years to grow up before they’ll be life-long mate material. But have I just been kidding myself? Will I wake up one day and realize I waited too long, that other more forward women came along and snatched away my still maturing perfect matches before I deemed they were ready?
This boy is an awesome person, one that I am positive would be happier and more compatible with someone other than his fiancé. Sure he’ll be fine, but how do we accept a fine life for our friends? What does that mean for us and what we’re willing to settle for?
What if, by waiting for the right time, I’m actually missing the right guys?
So, ladies and gentlemen of the internet world, I have a confession to make. I am 23, and I have never been kissed. Is this weird? Isn’t that something that is supposed that happen to you when you are sixteen? If not before? Somehow ‘sweet […]
This month the naughty princesses were asked about the words they live by. When you’re going through the twenty something condition–what are the thoughts that keep you going? What is your Motto for this stage of your life, and how is it helping you get […]
On Saturday I went to a Mormon Wedding.
Okay so that is a lie. I’m not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints so I am not physically allowed in the temple to watch the secret ‘sealing’ service that magically binds a man and a woman together for all eternity. I have no idea what goes on inside that room, and for all the secrecy that surrounds it, I think I’m content for it to stay that way. But though I made it to the reception, I do feel like I’ve missed out on seeing a part of my friend, of seeing a glimpse of how she is when she’s alone with her love. Watching a couple walk down the aisle and look into each other’s eyes as they promise their love is a way for me to really feel like I know someone. I’m not saying it isn’t possible to understand a person if you haven’t seen her get married, but I do think I makes a difference. And besides, it’s awesome to celebrate love, who doesn’t love a wedding?
That being said, I cry every time I attend one of these celebratory occasions, and not purely out of happiness. Usually there is some loneliness or jealousy mixed in along with a panic attack about growing up too fast and realizing that nothing will ever be the same. Sometimes there’s no dancing or the awkward mother in law takes over the mike and makes the couple promise to have kids immediately. I’ve been to weddings where the groom drank so much he started crying because he thought his new family didn’t like him and the caterers ran out of food before three tables had been served. Playlists go bad, decorations clash, arch enemies are reunited, women put on their crazy eyes; the list goes on. So as theoretically awesome as weddings should be, weddings can also suck, I get that.
And according to my parents, Mormon wedding receptions are the WORST. The ones they’ve been to entail a receiving line and not much else. Apparently they’re hosted in the poorly decorated gym of a small Mormon church (a ward) and guests are provided a cup of water or lemonade while they wait to hand the couple their gift and shake their hands in congrats. There’s no flower toss, no dancing, no mingling. Little-to-no decorations, sub-par cookies and definitely no toasts. So needless to say when my old friend from high school posted on Facebook: “Anyone who wants an invitation to my wedding should send me their address!” I was less than enthused at the prospect. But still it was a wedding and when our mutual friend (and fellow non-Mormon) insisted I attend as moral support I wasn’t about to say no.
But guess what?! It was AWESOME. When we arrived there was a guest book surrounded by pretty framed pictures and gorgeous paper flowers. We colorfully inked our thumbs to stamp balloons onto a picture of empty strings and walked by tables of cake and cookies and mini pies to arrive at the dance floor where a live jazz band was playing catchy tunes. There was food everywhere and tables you could mingle amongst to talk with other guests or take a load off to watch the band. The main room was circular with large windows overlooking the mountains and the patio was open for guests to explore. Tissue paper crafts hung from the ceiling and walls, twig and lace centerpieces dotted the tables. It was breathtaking and I’ve been to a lot of weddings. Forget Polygamy, the new Mormon P-word is Pinterest.
Her husband introduced himself to us before we could even take it all in. We’d never met in person but he won me over in two seconds flat when he said, “So you went to high school with my wife? Oh wow, sorry, it’s just that is the first time I’ve said that, my wife.” He gave me the best smile ever before I died of happiness then and there. She came over for a hug and though I haven’t seen her in years it was like we’d never parted. Have I told you that her dress was short yet? It was tiered and landed just below her knee, and they’d sewn the typical short sleeve covering to the strapless top to make it more modest. She glowed. Seriously glowed.
From there the night went much like any other wedding. They did a father daughter dance, then a mother son, they even had a mood-lightening choreographed ballroom dance routine they broke into right after the always slightly awkward first dance. Still no toasts, but she threw the bouquet which broke apart into pieces as it flew threw the air, conveniently bestowing more than one member of the crowd with a promise of future love. And while us non-believers huddled fearfully in the corner, trying our best to doge the flowers of commitment, it was sweet to see her show such a kindness to her more zealous friends.
Speaking of zealous friends, here is the best part. Seeing as the temple ceremony is super special secret and only other married Mormons are allowed in, Mormons tend not to have traditional bridesmaids or groomsmen. Instead they ask their friends to wear the wedding color in support, usually allowing for more than just a few friends to feel included. Well guess who didn’t get that memo.
I swear guys, every female in the place was wearing peach or salmon or red or pink or some sort of spring orange that made the whole room match in beauty perfection. And then there was me and my friend, both of us wearing dark blue that signaled us out as not only outsiders but non-believers who didn’t know to call ahead and ask for the wedding colors.
But all was well because we’re talking about Mormons here, who couldn’t be rude if they tried. And besides, it’s fun to feel like a harlot every once in a while. Not to mention how happy I was just to be at this wonderful girl’s wedding. In high school we made her promise to hold out as long as she could and she made good, she turns 24 in a few weeks and she is the last of our Mormon friends to tie the knot.
The whole reception only lasted about two hours and I didn’t feel the need to sneak out a flask once (though we did consider how entertaining it would be to spike the punch). I love Mormons and I love weddings. It makes sense that the two coming together would be a match made in the 3 levels of Heaven.
P.s. I didn’t talk about the sex thing! A friend of mine pointed out that Mormon wedding ceremonies are generally held mid morning with the reception following much later (this one started at 6:30). She asserted that the newlyweds rush hotel/home/car to consummate their union before cleaning themselves up and heading over to their guests. I hadn’t considered that series of events and seeing as the thought of sex in general makes me blush I may or may not have slightly embarrassed myself while talking to this particular couple with that knowledge in mind. I made ridiculous faces as my rambling face said things that went a little something like this, “Congrats friends! How’s your day been so far? Get some good stuff done? Not too tired from all the activity I hope… I mean all the activities not anything in particular, you know cause wedding days are busy with more than just.. I mean you must be so excited! Not that you’re too excited…”