Saturday night, and I'm blogging

It’s 10:21 on a Saturday night… The bulldog is tucked in… and so am I… the makeup is off, the yoga pants are on… Am I 26 or 86? The lines are a little blurry… but I totally acknowledge that it’s a choice… but honestly, can someone tell me what single people do in McMinnville on a Saturday night? (this is not a rhetorical question… someone, anyone … I need some tips) I’ve lived here for eight years and I still am working on that one… I think because the answer is mostly “they leave town.” 

I leave town some… but with a job that often demands long weekend hours, and a 7 month old puppy, my days of late evening trips to Portland, impromptu tequila shots, and spontaneous sleep-overs are pretty much past. And let’s face it, as a group of twenty-somethings with different work schedules, significant others, and differing hobbies and interests, its hard to get us all together for something planned in advance… I know my friends in Portland hang out often, happy hour after work, last minute get togethers… and it’s not like I’m a social recluse living in the sticks. I get out and do things. I have my wine tasting group, and classes, I meet friends for dinner and coffee, my life during the week is fulfilling… but Saturday nights are the worst… these are the nights where all your friends stop answering text messages because they are out interacting with people face to face… they are on dates, and at sporting events, and at bars… and I’m listening to my bulldog snore in the next room.  And I chose it. I chose to stay here, I chose my job, I chose to get a pet… And mostly these were great choices. My job is sometimes stressful, and sometimes frustrating, but it’s also awesome… I just started teaching more yoga… which is also awesome. Toby is the best pet… my life is good… but its Saturday night, and I’m 26… and I’m blogging in my pajamas… and I’m lonely.

There are countless lists of projects I could be doing… books to read, classes to plan, baby-showers to throw… there are hours to waste on Pinterest, tv shows to catch up on, e-mails to write…it’s not that I’m bored, or have a lack of things to do… but projects don’t make up for the fact that I miss having some basic human interaction…  I miss making dinner with someone over a glass of wine, and just talking about life…  

I made dinner with my parents… which was fine and nice, and we talked about life and work… but the problem with parents is that no matter how old I am, my life will always be a puzzle they are trying to problem solve. It doesn’t matter what it is, if I say “oh my new phone isn’t getting my emails” they suddenly try to come at the situation from every angle and offer up how I should handle the situation, what my reaction should be, how I should address things with my boss… every conversation turns into “well maybe you should do this, or try this, or ask this, or address this” and it is very frustrating, and overwhelming.  I know they are just being parents… but mostly it’s just easier to talk with them about things that don’t require any problem solving whatsoever… We try to be social, we really do… but I am constantly being reminded that they are my parents, and no matter how old I am… I always be a work in progress.  This morning I met them at my coffee shop on my way to work… the one I visit at least 3 times a week, the one where I flirt with the baristas, and am friends with the owner, the one where I actually end up working with a number of the staff members on events.  My coffee shop… and as I was leaving with my parents, my mom looks at me and loudly says (in front of several of the people I know) “Tayler, roll those shoulders back, stick your boobs out!”   (true story, this happened this morning)  I’m digressing… but mainly what I’m getting at, is that I am thankful that my family is here and I like spending time with them… but parents are not exactly the socialization that I’m craving (especially since now half the people that I enjoy socializing with over my morning coffee heard my mom talk about my boobs).  I like my family a lot… but a girl needs some separation.

  

Maybe I should put on some lip-stick and head out to the bars without a wing-man? Maybe… but for the moment, I’m content to be tucked in… and maybe in a little bit I won’t feel as lonely…