When I was in high school, I worried about whether or not I’d get caught cutting class, or sneaking my boyfriend into the house when my parents weren’t home. I wasn’t what you’d call a “good kid,” and I didn’t hang out with any “good kids.” On the contrary, my friends and I smoked pot, stayed out past curfew, got in verbal altercations… One time, I got caught shoplifting. Another time, I flashed a police officer and only narrowly escaped arrest. All these transgressions were survivable, and, ultimately, they allowed me and the people I grew up with to learn from our mistakes. Then again, the people who surrounded me – many of whom had anger issues – didn’t have access to weapons other than
As much as I hate to admit it, I am susceptible to the pressures of our culture. The internalized belief that, at thirty-four, I should have found “Mr. Right” and be married with our first kid on the way. But that hasn’t happened – yet. And, so, I’ve come to think of Valentine’s Day as Singles’ Awareness Day. That’s right. This is the day – each and every year – that I wake up on my side of the bed and feel especially aware of the emptiness beside me. On the street, couples hold hands. Never mind that they haven’t had sex in months or fought, yesterday, about who would do the laundry – or that he’s considering leaving her for some girl he met at work. I stare at these couples through th
