By Sloane Solomon
After I turned 20, I started noticing that people between the ages of 29-38 love to give me unsolicited advice about how I should be living my twenties. Some say, "Don’t get bogged down in relationship stuff. Go out there, have fun. Meet guys, make mistakes. Use a condom." Others tell me, "In five years your boobs will be approximately eight inches lower, your hips will be approximately eight inches wider and there will be 22 year old girls jumping all over the men in this town. Get a boyfriend, get married, have babies. LOCK IT DOWN SISTER." No one offers me career advice, or life advice, or financial advice (but I suppose you’d have to actually have finances to need advice.) It’s almost like the suffrage movement never happened.
"No, I haven’t met The One. I haven’t met any one. Miami is a crappy place to meet decent people."
I was pretty high and mighty for the past few months. I’m living on my own, paying my bills (with my dad’s credit card), remembering to feed my kitten and making grocery lists! I thought I should be proud of that fact that for the first time in my life I’m taking care of myself. But no one ever says, "Hey, you smell clean. I’m proud of you for taking the initiative to shower pretty regularly. You’re really doing a swell job of living on your own." Instead, all anyone ever asks me is, "How’s your love life? Have you met The One yet?"
No, I haven’t met The One. I haven’t met any one. Miami is a crappy place to meet decent people. Sure, I’ve gone on a few dates, met some nice boys, had a fun time, but nothing with any long-term potential. And I think that should be OK. But it’s not. I’m always getting set up with someone’s "awesome friend" and I’m sick of it. OK, I’m not really sick of it. But I am sick of meeting guys that treat women like samples at an ice-cream parlor. I’m sorry fellows, but if you want to taste the butter pecan, you’re going to have to buy a waffle cone.
"... I agree with Obama’s platform. 2009 is all about change. I cut my hair, I bought organic deodorant (I don’t recommend it) and I found a new kitten to keep me company."
See what I mean? That metaphor didn’t make a lick of sense. I’m sort of going crazy in this town. I decided that after I graduate five months from now I’m going to get the hell out of Miami and see what else is out there. By the time this goes to print my entire family will have moved out of Miami and my friends all have their own lives in new cities and I feel left behind. I voted for Nader, but I agree with Obama’s platform. 2009 is all about change. I cut my hair, I bought organic deodorant (I don’t recommend it) and I found a new kitten to keep me company. I’m completely terrified, but I figure that I’ve moved so many times in the past four years it should be second nature by now.
I’m so ready to be finished with school, finished with stacks of library books, and finished with the god-awful traffic on I-95. I need a change, and I need it now. Oh, and if you loyal readers know any cute men preferably between the ages of 27-35, over 6’4", with brown hair and brown eyes, enough chest hair to burrow in but not enough to require weekly trimming, with a Doctor of Medicine degree from a Top Ten school, please, send ‘em my way.
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