Last night I attended a party given by Thrillist with Lostplum. I’m sure she’ll be writing all about it. Anyway, it was a last minute thing and I hopped at the opportunity to go, knowing full well that I’d probably be one of the oldest women there.
Like a typical girl I sent Lostplum a text asking what I should wear and said, “lil black dress, lots of cleavage?”, which is pretty much my default for parties and events where there will be lots of men and lots of booze. Well, it is. (And, to quote Lostplum, it’s classy cleavage. My little black dresses are classic. Not trashy.)
This was so not a little black dress crowd. Not at all. No LBDs. No cleavage. Just me. Lots of too-short skirts. Lots of fashion victims.
But I’m getting offtrack. Forgive me. I’m a little hungover. This post isn’t about fashion. It’s about how happy I am to be old. Or older.
After we tired of the party (we each did find, at one point or another, cute boys to talk to but it was so loud we actually couldn’t hear a thing they were saying) we left to get some food. Four hours of standing around in lethally high heels is long enough for me. There’s a pretty good pub a few blocks from the party space and so we went there.
We weren’t the only ones there from the Thrilliest party. Next to us was a large table of people in their early 20s. Two guys and several girls. And wow the girls were a mess. They’d all had WAY too much to drink and were embarrassing themselves in various and distinct ways. We couldn’t help watch and comment on them.
And that’s when it hit me. The whole night was a lesson for me in, “Aren’t you glad you’re not 23 anymore?” The girls at the table next to us were all very pretty. At least 15 years younger than me. But damn, I wouldn’t trade places with any of them for nuthin. Not nuthin.
5 Reasons Why I’m Happy to Be in My Late 30s
- I’m comfortable with my body. I actually like the way I look now. I was technically in better shape 15 years ago but I was always hiding my body, afraid I didn’t measure up.
- I have a closet full of little black dresses and I’m not afraid to use them.
- I know how much I can drink and how much I should drink and the difference between the two.
- I’ve finally gotten the hang of big parties. I couldn’t deal with them when I was younger. I probably would’ve hid in the corner with a friend. But last night I had no problem walking up to complete strangers and talking to them (sometimes, I’m sure, seeming like a creepy old cougar, but who cares).
- The sex is much better. No, I didn’t get laid last night. The fuckbuddy it still out of town and I’m not into picking up random young men and bringing them home for a trial run (anymore). But I’d be lying if I didn’t put that on the list. In fact, this should probably be number one. I’ve learned a lot about what makes me happy, sexually, over the last couple of decades. And so sex is just a hell of a lot better now. A lot. A lot. Did I mention that sex is a lot better now?
Tags: cougars, fuckbuddy, get laid, Little Black Dress (LBD), Party, Thrillist