When I speak of my single life, I sound like a 50 year old man glorifying his high school football days. I get all glossy-eyed and lost in my own swollen head. I think I sound hot. Seasoned. I reminisce on when I was dating four girls at the same time. On the good dyke clubs “back in the day”. I think I am impressing the 21 year olds that landed in my circle. Like these baby dykes can learn a thing or two from this veteran clit licker. I remember how attractive I used to be with my tan and tiny clothes. I was an avid teeth bleacher. My legs (and more) were always shaved. It was a serious case of “too many girls, too little time”.
Maybe I do sound cool. I don’t know, it’s possible. Or maybe I just sound old.
Truth is, I haven’t been single in eight years. And truth is, I’m okay with it. In fact, I have been married to my wife for almost seven years and we have a baby boy. We own real estate. And a dog. We don’t get drunk and we have a bedtime. I wear comfortable clothes.
I don’t know if people are impressed with the image of the former me. I don’t know if I miss her. I don’t know if I think that if I were single today, that it would be the same as it was. Because the reality is that it would be nothing like it used to be. I sincerely laugh at my fantasy of the younger, goddess-like version of me. The thing is, I have changed. Single, married, or whatever. I’m not the same person that I once was. And it has nothing to do with whether I was a fresh little lezzie or not. It has everything to do with growing up. My priorities went from phone numbers to anniversaries, from new club music to nursery rhymes, from panties to diapers. You catch my drift.
Maybe we all like to hang on to something from our youthful counterparts. I mean, isn’t that what the media and commercialism want us to do? Look younger! Feel younger! Maybe because I’ve had so many changes in these last eight years, that it just seems recreational to embrace a memory or two. Frankly, I enjoy remembering the days where things happened a little faster, women were a little more prevalent, and I was a little shinier.
And as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing wrong with that. Okay okay, and I was a ripe little hottie. There, I said it.