There is an old theatre in the city I live which plays an older movie Friday nights during the summer. Last week, two of the girls I work with and I went out to dinner and then to the gorgeously ornate and at one time thriving theatrical venue to see Bridget Jones, a classic chick flick and favorite of the last 10 years. As I dumped Raisinets in my mouth by the handful, however, I was slapped with a bit of reality I had blissfully not seen coming.
The fictional character my friends and I had once mocked and, at 20 years old, seemed like the height of desperation now hit much closer than home. This is, of course, a bit of an exaggeration but as I watched the early “All by Myself” scene, I found myself laughing at myself instead of dear Bridget.
Because it was no longer just the image of a tragic spinster. If you added some ice cream to the booze, it was practically a scene from my typical Friday night.
This realization led me to acknowledge something else I had been doing my best to ignore … I have been in what can best be described as a funk for much of the last several weeks. Though certainly perpetuated by events around me, I have decided it is still a wholly personal issue. And one I have not discovered a tried and true solution for.
To say motivation has, at times, been lacking during said funk would be probably be an understatement. I have found it incredibly difficult to make myself do a lot of things I know I should be doing – like cooking, catching up with friends and training for my upcoming bike race … or blogging about any of it for that matter.
I think it all peaked last week as I scrambled to prepare for one of my dearest friends weddings over the weekend. Just days before two of my favorite people said “I do”, I had not yet booked a hotel room, completed the gift or bought necessary undergarments to complete the dress. Apparently it was just easier to ignore and pretend it wasn’t right around the corner.
This has been my philosophy to a lot of things lately. I have ignored phone calls from old friends, not eager to discuss my latest failed attempt with Sparks, lame date I attempted to replace him with or how I just don’t have a whole lot of anything else to report. It can be exhausting to have the same conversation over and over again when I occasionally feel like some of them are asking to live vicariously and hear stories from their token single friend.
My lameness as a friend came to a head when I finally returned about five missed calls over the last month from my college roommate. While on my drive back from the aforementioned wedding, I learned my former partner in alcohol and Easy Mac-fueled escapades is now expecting her first child with her husband of two and a half years.
I knew this call was going to come sooner or later and I am thrilled about being a long-distance aunt ... again. Apparently the harshness of this last winter led to a lot of indoor activity, as three of my closest girl friends are now due in October, November and December. Coming off the wedding this weekend and walking into the latest mommyhood update is enough to make any girl – even one who breaks into hives at the thought of white dresses and children – examine her life.
And apparently admit to the funk. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get over it.
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