I’m an adult now

I have to be. About five years ago, I was having a conversation with my two closest friends in the world about whether we felt that we were “adults.” Fawn had decided she was an adult already. and I were not so sure. We decided then that we didn’t need to be adults until Ronald Reagan died – after all, he has been a symbol of our childhood. And like Dick Clark and Casey Kasem, he never ages and seemed like he’d never die.

But today he did die. And now, I suppose, I am An AdultTM. It feels like a loss, but you know, said it best last November when the three of us collectively celebrated our thirtieth birthdays in Zion National Park: “I think I’m ready to be an adult now.”

In other news, and I spent the evening at my cousin Jenny’s birthday/college graduation party, and I realized something slightly uncomfortable: we were easily twenty years younger than half the people there, and ten years older than the other half. We were also the only queer couple there.

For someone who is supposed to be an adult now, I sure don’t feel very comfortable in most rooms full of adults. Maybe it’s just that, like Groucho Marx and Woody Allen, I don’t want to be a part of any group that would have me as a member.

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~ by realsupergirl on June 5, 2004.

5 Responses to “I’m an adult now”

  1. Yeah, F. called my cell yesterday and opened with, “You’re an adult, now!” I responded, “Oh, Ronald Regan died?” In retrospect, the casualness of my response was perhaps a tad callous, given that we were talking about a person’s actual death — and a death after a horribly long bout with an unfortunate ailment. (sigh) Look at me, getting all soft in my old age, adultness!

    Oh, in a truly ironic twist, when F. called, I was at Disneyland with . He was making pirate noises in the background.

  2. Yes, I heard…we thought that was a very appropriate place for you to be when you heard Ronald Reagan died. We were also unsure whether there was a connection between the pirate noises in the background and Reagan’s death…

    And speaking of which…fourteen hours? I think you can kill yourself ingesting that much Disney.

  3. And speaking of which…fourteen hours? I think you can kill yourself ingesting that much Disney.

    Hush. No such thing as too much time in the “happiest place on earth.” Which it truly is.

  4. You ain’t just whistling Dixie! 🙂

  5. The sailing ship Columbia was going by us — the pirate noises were for the pirate ship, and an agreement that we were, indeed, in Disneyland, as in:

    Museumgirl: We’re in Disneyland.
    Madbard: Arrr!
    F: What?

    Or something to that effect.

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