Seated at the Kids Table

This past Saturday night I went to a Christmas party with all of my friends. Life has got a little busy over recent years and we haven’t actually had it for three years. This particular quirky party originally started as a post Christmas party where you could re-gift the crappy presents that you received at Christmas. The intention was to would wrap up something rubbish that you got, offload it to some unfortunate sod and get very, very merry.

The highlight of that original party was inducting Norma the garden gnome into our circle of friends. Norma was an unwanted work Kris Kringle gift, but she wasn’t just any garden gnome. Norma had cleavage and buttcrack – she was all class!

She became the ambassador of the party and each year for the next 4 or so years she returned to the party to be regifted. The party eventually turned into a pre-Christmas party where you had to go out and intentionally buy the crappiest gift that you could find for $10. But with weddings, new houses and babies over the past few years the party was neglected and Norma had become very comfortable at her current residence.

This year she made her reappearance and moved into her new home as per the parties of old. However, the party itself was not the same. It used to be a rowdy night where the beer, wine and vodka flowed freely, the folk in their late 20’s and early 30’s acted their age playing with water pistols, rainbow wigs and fake moustaches (all crappy gifts). The singles flirted shamelessly and sometimes there was a party pash or two.

This year, there were only two singles. Myself and one of my girlfriends. But there were a lot of rowdy people acting like children – because they actually were children! It was the first party we’ve had where most of the adults had descendants. It was a constant barrage of ‘look what I can do’ and ‘excuse me, can I have a chip/juice/candy cane/that/no not that, THAT’.

Don’t get me wrong, kids are awesome. I used to be one and I hope to have some myself eventually. But it feels like something you really need to ease your way into. Despite being 32, I’m not quite there yet and I think it has a lot to do with not having found my future baby daddy as yet. I just can’t picture my life like that right now.

My friend had an adorable little boy recently and he is gorgeous and I love him already! But, I look at him and I just can’t picture my current life revolving around a child. I work late, study part-time, often have nothing in my fridge but booze and really enjoy my ‘me’ time. Sure, I want it to happen and I know it will happen, but I very much enjoyed my nap(s) on the lounge on the Sunday after the party and having a lazy day watching dvds.

I guess I better enjoy those days whilst they last hey – after all, the psychic has said my future husband is on his way!!!

Any day now, any day…..

Festive Rejections

Although based on past experience I have an inkling that my future husband is not on RSVP, I decided to give it another crack on the weekend. So far I’ve sent a few guys a kiss and I have got a couple of rejections back; a few guys haven’t replied, perhaps waiting for a better offer; and I am talking to one guy that after one email seems so far reasonably normal.

At 32, I’m ideally looking for a man that is about 31 to 45. That is quite a big age range, but based on people I have met in my personal and professional life, age really is just a number. I know men that are 35 year old manchilds, but also 45 year old men that are very young spirited.

But for some reason, 25 year old men seem to like to send me kisses on RSVP. I kind of picture them sending kisses out on rapid fire to play the odds game that maybe they will eventually get a hit.

I am a courteous online dater and always respond promptly either way if I am interested or not and I have just noticed that RSVP has got into the festive spirit this month! Their latest rejection option is ‘I don’t want to take things further right now but hope you have a Merry Christmas!’

Hmmm yes, I won’t be using that one. It might as well say ‘No, what were you thinking?! Merry Kiss My Ass’.