I'm not working today, and neither am I tomorrow. Taking a well-deserved break from work. I'm content to just sit at home watching TV, surfin' the web whilst sippin' on some sizzurp. Maybe it's the Tequila that inspired this post, but I never post when I know I'm inebriated so this is probably me still. Or it isn't. In any case, here it is:
There's something about the number 30.
Maybe there are 30 celestial bodies in our solar system, most yet undiscovered. Maybe there are 30 wonders of the world, not 7. Maybe there are 30 particles in the oxygen molecules' nuclei that we breathe in every instant, and we don't know that yet. Or maybe I've watched Matrix the movie 30 times, maybe. But there's something special about that number.
I'm over 30 and can truly say my mental faculties started operating when I turned 30. No surprise, then, that Jesus waited till he was 30 years old to do that which he came here to do, coz that's when life really begins. Yeah yeah, whatever, I can hear you say, but this is especially true for us males. The average woman is, between 25 and 30 years of age, as grown up as she'll ever be, but there are some men hovering around 40 that still don't have their shit together. A man's life begins at 30. Of course there are some exceptions to that, but that's usually how it works.
I cringe to think of some of the things I did when I was in my 20s. Frankly, I'm amazed I lived though it. I partied so much, wasted so much money, messed with so many people's feelings, told so many lies. But when I turned 30 I literally woke up one morning and felt like Johnny Nash coz I Could See So Clearly Now. Honest.
Case in point, I've cited over and over again, on this blog even, that I was hopelessly attracted to bad, dont-give-a-f*ck girls. They'd wreck shit up, cuss me out, key my car, slap me - all that. And I loved it, coz my lifestyle was similarly chaotic. They'd keep me guessing and I'd do the same; thrust and parry, thrust and parry. And then I turned 30 and was suddenly tired, so very tired, of it all. So tired was I, in fact, that I cut off anyone I'd been stringing along coz it just wasn't worth the trouble that came along with it.
Fast-forward a few months, and I met this one girl. She was nice, too nice. Knowing my distaste for good girls, I quickly shut her out. She ignored me too, but I was used to that. Which man isn't?
But then one night, around Christmastime I believe, we got trashed together. Not just she and I but a bunch of other people. And, as luck would have it, some other girl was there too, trying to make me jealous by grinding on some other dude, but I was actually relieved that the heat was off me and on him. [To self:] Oh Dee, you're such a dumbass. Did you think you could get off that easy? It was all for show!
But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes: The good girl and I got trashed together. She, especially, was hammered. [I learned later that I was much more tipsy than she, but this is my story and damnit, I'm sticking to it!]
Everyone was dancing with everyone else and it was all good, until she danced with me. The instant my hands grasped that slender frame it was all she wrote. Love? I didn't know. Lust? Definitely. Chemistry? Absolutely.
[To be continued.]
ps: Congrats, Lewis Hamilton, on the Belgian Grand Prix.