The Sarchasm Chronicles
The first week of December heralded the end of my 34th year.
I'm now a 35-year old divorced guy (well, *ALMOST* divorced
- still waiting for her to finish the disillusion papers).
You'd think after almost 11 years of marriage I'd get at
least a card, or maybe a phone call.
I had a lonely beer with a friend from one of my old jobs
and then went home.
Quite possibly the crappiest birthday I've ever had.
I got the typical cards from relatives, a call from my Mom,
etc. But there was no fanfare. Thirty-five is the toughest
birthday for me so far.
Thirty didn't bother me too bad.
But it kind of told me I had five years to accomplish
stuff I wanted to do. Thirty-four kind of bugged me
because I knew NEXT year would be 35.
And now I'm 35.
Several friends put together a happy hour for me a few days
after my actual b-day, and that was fun. They are a great
bunch of people. Glad I know them.
I was never much for "friends" - I liked being a loner. I
had my wife, y'know? But now I realize you can never depend
on just *one* person. Except yourself. Better to have a
few spare friends up your sleeve.
I wonder how my old girlfriends are doing?
How hard would it be to track them down?
I was ahead of the curve when I got married. Most of my
friends were just beginning to find mates, they weren't even
engaged yet. So given my headstart, they probably still have a
few years to go before having their own divorces.
I'm ahead of the curve again.