Turning thirty really isn't so bad when you celebrate as though you are eighteen with twelve years experience; which is precisely what I did. I escaped the everyday reality of Montreal with two best friends and arrived by the pool at the Sheraton in Toronto at approximately two PM. Seven hours later I was already hung-over. Meaning I was drunk, slept and woke up with a hang over by nine PM on Friday night. Dirty thirty never sounded so accurate.
I had an absolutely amazing weekend. I couldn't have asked for more. Except a cake; I never got to blow out a candle and make a wish. I hope that isn't bad luck. What I did obtain from the past four days (other than lack of sleep and some drunken scrapes and bruises) is a whole lot of confusion. The biggest question being, how do you know if you're ready to be a fraction in a couple?
I know you assume that at this age I should be more than ready. On the other hand, after being single for so long, I can't help but feel as though a relationship is an entirely other planet. I've admittedly explained that I have a negative complex regarding relationship and I have this apprehension that life changes once you go from one to two. It is no secret, I have my issues.
"We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets." - Marilyn Monroe
After this weekend, I think I (could be) ready to retire from my party girl ways; but only to a certain extent ;) I believe that a shift in priorities needs to happen at a certain age and considering I cannot decide which was better: my weekend getaway with my girls or last Wednesday's surprise birthday dinner with the mystery boy, this is probably a good time to start.
I guess I could have really used that birthday wish.