Old, but in no way mature

I'm pretty sure that the picture I use as the masthead for this blog was taken on July 4th, most likely in 1980. Every year my town put on an Independence Day Parade, a quaint little ditty that would bring all the local Girl Scouts troupes, firemen, and softball leagues marching down our street. My family would bring our chaise lounges up from the backyard into the front, perch them at the top of the lawn, and enjoy this annual slice of suburban pie.

My town also had a tradition of hosting the fireworks on the night of July 3rd. That way, they reasoned, everyone could stay out late to watch them and not have to get up early for work the next day. A genius idea, really. How has this idea not caught on in the rest of the country? That would solve all of my problems. (Well, today's problems.)

Seriously, though. EVERYONE gets out early on July 3rd, no? We can all appreciate that taste of "school's out" freedom, go home and get excited for a big night? But after a nice full relaxing day off from work, who wants to rouse themselves out of the house at 10 PM just to watch a light show? You know who? Drunk people, that's who. But if you (and by you, I mean me) have been drinking all day long, you really don't need to be out at 10 PM watching this display. Especially when you have to go to work the next day. So I vote that next year, the country unanimously decides to host fireworks on July 3rd and we can all spend July 4th happily nursing our hangovers. Good? Good.

I went down to Hermosa Beach yesterday, which wasn't my idea but seemed like a good a plan as any. I've never been down there before but figured it was likely going to be like my days at the Jersey shore: swarms of fun young things swimming and tanning and drinking and eating until dark, and then until dawn. And it was exactly like that, especially in that everyone down there seemed to be 27, and that was how I old I was when I did my first shore house, and how old I was the last time I thought that was really fun.

We had a good time. It was just a bit much for me. We lay on the beach from 12 until 3, ate lunch on the Pier, then went to a house party from about 4 until 6. Grabbed drinks on the Pier, watched fireworks, and then my friend, who was driving, decided we should hang out for another hour to avoid sitting in traffic. So we went back to the bar, she did not drink, but I did along with our other friends. And while there was never a point that I got "drunk" during the day, I was literally drinking all day. And, appropriately, my body has decided that if I am going to drink for 11 hours, I am damn well going to have a hangover for 11 hours. Because I am 31 and am too freaking old be doing this!

My friend, not coincidentally, happens to date younger guys almost exclusively. She is 31 (and a lawyer!) yet tends to prefer guys between 24 and 26. I, on the other hand, date older guys just as exclusively. I didn't date guys in their 20's when I was IN my 20's; in fact, I could count on one hand the number of 20-something guys I've dated since graduating college. I believe that number is Two. It's not intentional, and I doubt that it's because I'm incredibly mature, it's just what I seem to gravitate towards. Yes, I am blaming Gravity. I certainly blame it for everything else.

Now that the subject is back on boys, I have another Interactive Element to throw out there.

Situation: Guy on Match. Seems okay. Emailed a few times. I gave him my phone number. He called me about an hour later. Left a really long-winded message that had me cringing at his obvious dorkiness. Emailed me immediately after to let me know he had called. Far too eager. Now the ball is in my court, and I have absolutely no interest in speaking to him.

Do I:

A. Ignore him and not call him back. Make up an excuse on email tomorrow and then drop off the face of the earth. (Going away for the weekend, for a life sentence, whatever).

B. Call him back and make my way through polite chit chat and then, after our conversation, drop off the face of the earth.

I'm thinking A, but what do I know?