What was I doing at 24?

Out partying with my new young hot roommate tonight (that’s become part of her name – young hot roommate). It was a blast, meeting new people, expanding my circle, as it were.

Some of them were fun. Some of them were too cool for the room. Some of them were unremarkable.

But it made me think, as everything does nowadays, about a whole bunch of things.

First of all, where was I when I was 24? It was 1986 (yes, really, 1986). I was married to an alcoholic drug abuser who also liked to beat the emotional shit out of me on a regular basis. Gee, I wonder where my self-esteem issues come from. I was just thinking about going back to school and becoming a teacher. My high school drama coach, Norm Oman, had begun working with mentally handicapped kids and was doing great things with them using drama and acting techniques. He invited me to join him in this endeavor but I would have to work on getting my teaching degree. I was thrilled. My ex, not so much. We had a beautiful apartment, were thinking about having kids, I felt like my whole life was coming together. I could see where I was going and where I wanted to be. And he was going to be there with me, following his own dreams, succeeding, because we were together.

One year later, I was alone, divorcing, shattered. He ran off with a 16-year-old cheaplittleslutbitch. He was 24. I was 25. Suddenly, a cavernous new life in front of me. So, of course, I packed up my VW Rabbit and moved to LA. What else is a girl from Canada supposed to do?

My hot young roommate reminds me of a me a bit (not the young, hot part). She’s feisty, funny, fearless. I’d like to think that’s what I was like at 24.

The second thing this evening made me think about was dating. Augh. Do I really want to go through all that again? I never dated a lot. I’ve seriously dated seven guys (yes, seven), slept with three of them, married two of them. Wow. Glad I didn’t sleep with the others.

But sitting there tonight, chatting up a couple of very nice guys, discussing where I should get my tattoo and whether or not to get a belly button ring (consensus was no), I suddenly thought, what if one of them asks for my phone number? Am I there yet? It’s only been a couple of months. Will I ever be there? Am I done with my soon-to-be ex yet enough to move on to just dinner with someone else?

Then there was the inevitable thought of having someone new see me naked and that put a stop to everything right there. I am in no way prepared for that. Not that dating means nudity but you never know. I’m too self-conscious right now about the extra weight, the extra age, the extra wear and tear a body has at 43. And the whole perimenopausal thing makes me crazy thinking about sleeping with somebody new.

And do I really want to break in someone new? It’d be so much easier to just date someone I know because at least we don’t have to deal with all the bullshit and small talk crap that people seem to want to do. Maybe I could start with, “okay, I’m not into small talk, tell me your problems, I’ll tell you mine, and let’s see if our neuroses don’t make us run screaming from the room.” My friend, Kurt, has a great expression. He doesn’t mind someone with baggage if they just tell him how big of a cart to bring. I’m afraid that right now, a semi would be needed.

Maybe in six months, I’ll be able to entertain the idea of entertaining someone. Maybe by then, I’ll be back to doing yoga a couple of times a week and maybe be approaching a flatter stomach and leaner thighs that I wouldn’t be embarrassed with someone new getting a peek at. Maybe by then I’ll have my own place and be more settled with the person that I am, instead of feeling like this imposter blundering my way through my life. Maybe by then I’ll want to have sex bad enough to not worry about having someone see my flaws.

Maybe that’s the whole problem – I’m not sure I’m ready to let someone new see all my flaws. Hmm, thoughts for another night.