When You’re Too Old To Be A Trophy Wife
I’m a recluse. For the most part. That comes as a shock to most people. Even those that know me. Because, well, when I’m out, I’m pretty darn fun. If I do say so myself. I mean like dead-cocaine-snorting-donkeys or Mr. Chow-jumping-out-of-the-trunk kinda fun. So people just assume that I’m an extrovert and feel comfortable speaking to people. But that’s just not the case.
I also dislike driving. Especially in Miami. Plus, going out entails having to get dressed. And brushing my hair. And on occasion, bathing. So just building up the nerve to get ready and getting in my car to go anywhere is already an adventure, as far as I’m concerned.
Another reason I don’t leave the house now is because I don’t want to spend money I don’t yet have. So although, yes, I can go almost anywhere I want to (as long as I’m back in time to pick up the kids, of course) I really can’t afford to. So I guess the trick is finding a way to be free AND make money to be able to afford all that freedom. (rubs chin pensively.)
My first choice, of course, would be to be a trophy wife. But, let’s face it, I’m too old for that. That ship has sailed. Any self-respecting sugar daddy is looking for a hot and stupid 20-year-old. And although I’m at least one of those things, I don’t think it’s going to work. Unless I find a 90-year-old. I probably look young and hot to them. But I don’t like them wrinkly. And I don’t think I can get drunk enough to pretend to. Prostitution and drug dealing are also off the table. Back to the drawing board.
But I digress.
Have Fun, Damnit!
So the assignment today was to go out somewhere and have fun. I could only muster the energy to go to my neighborhood Starbucks. I was surprised to see so many people there midday. It’s in a very suburban spot. I wondered what those people did for a living. Didn’t spot any trophy wives. Or drug dealers.
I read a book my friend Luis lent me. On how to be a more natural writer. I plowed through some of the exercises. But with my ADHD situation, it wasn’t exactly as productive as I would have liked. Oh, look! A squirrel!
I worked hard on being present. The sights. The sounds. The smells. The rain falling upon the window. Keeping me from leaving. Causing floods. And creating traffic. I started to panic. I had to get out.
I waited for the rain to subside and I got out of there as quickly as I could. And just like that, my day of fun was done. I had my selfie to prove I was there. And I had some material for this post.
All in all, I’d call it a successful day!
What would you do if you could blow off work to just have fun? Comment below or just follow me! I’m fun. I promise!
This blog post is in response to Natalie’s 10 Day Freedom Plan Blog Challenge Day 8