The conversation.

Modern decorum calls for a young woman of educated status to have, in fact, an elevated status.

______

“Congratulations on graduation,” said the Older Person. “And what are you doing now?”

Congratulations? He/she had to be kidding. She stifled a laugh when she realized they were indeed serious.

Girl* sized Older Person up, trying to determine if his/her opinion was one that could crush her.

What does this aunt/uncle/neighbor/random-person-who-likes-to-dig-up-dirt mean by “doing?” She was doing her laundry, thank you, and her errands and sometimes, her chores.

“Well. I don’t have a job at the moment,” she replied. “I’m just… looking. (Insert required sentence about the poor state of the economy).”

“Yes, yes, it is bad out there,” the Person said.

He/she gave her a rather patronizing look while taking a swig of a mixed drink.

“Home with the parents for now!”

Right. Home. It’s where the heart is and all, but it’s not a great place to experience the new.

Girl then realized the Person was, unfortunately, still speaking.

“Well, you’ll find something! I remember when I graduated…,” he/she trailed off and looked for another conversation to join.

www.toothpastefordinner.com

____
I ask others what their plans are, too, but I know how much it hurts to shoulder the question when you are actually doing nothing at all.

I did not do much this summer, until recently. I have a part-time job for the time being. Time being means until October (I think), when I move to Atlanta to start my next adventure (stay tuned for that chapter).

After the post-college-plans conversation dies, a new one swoops in to pat you on the back. Or maybe hit you on the back of the head.
__

“Are you seeing anyone special right now?” Older Lady said.

Girl considered fabricating a boyfriend who happened to live in California and would not be in the area, like, ever.

“Um, not really right now, no,” she said.

Older Lady winked and looked her up and down appraisingly.

“You’ll find a special person soon enough!” she said. “Just enjoy your life right now!”

Older Lady’s ring finger seemed more prominently displayed on the outside of her wine glass as she lifted it to her mouth to take a sip.

Holy hell, that rock was huge. She left a berry colored stain on the rim of the glass and Girl could not help but wonder if she stained everything she touched.

Girl looked up and realized that Older Lady was squinting at her, noticing Girl absorbing the lipstick rim and sparkling rock. Girl smiled, picked her jaw up and inched away.

Was it weird that she was not thinking of settling any time soon? Probably not, but then she realized that despite the fast-pace associated with modernity, she did not know if this mindset was “normal.”

And if casually dating a few Mr. Bigs here and there was normal, she hoped that she got a bit weirder.

___

Normal in reference to dating and relationships changes every day. I’m waiting for someone to come up with a definition that’s applicable to everything.

I stumbled across this section of the New York Times called “Modern Love.” In 2008, the editors asked college students to define what love meant to them in a series of essays.

The winner candidly sums up the current dating culture in a piece titled “Want to Be My Boyfriend? Please Define.”

The best excerpt:

So when my friends and I started having a conversation about the nature of monogamy, I thought I knew something about monogamy. Because, despite the fleeting nature of most of my encounters, and despite my own role in their short duration, I think what I have been seeking in some form from all of these men is permanence.

Sometimes I don’t like them, or am scared of them, and a lot of times I’m just bored by them. But my fear or dislike or boredom never seems to diminish my underlying desire for a guy to stay, or at least to say he is going to stay, for a very long time.

And even when I don’t want him to stay — even when he and I find each other as strangers and remain strangers until we stop doing whatever it is we are doing — I still want to believe that two people can meet and like each other well enough to stay together exclusively, without the introduction of some 1960s rhetoric about free love or other noncommittal slogans.

But noncommittal is what we’re all about.

Some of my friends, bless their hearts, are in their relationships for the long haul. Others are just rolling with life and seeing where it brings them.

And still others seem to pine for what they can’t have, and ignore what they could.

For a 20-something-year-old, what is the next step? That is, where is the proper place to put your feet on the ground?

Should it be time to make someone a priority when you’ve just begun to realize how to prioritize your life?

*Girl=20-something female, current, average.

Nights “out.”

A night out serves as an elixir to unhappiness, anxiety, office-syndrome, wounded ego, broken heart and gradual aging.

That is, until you hit the real world. Then the definition of such a night alters.

Nights out happened in college, when you could dress up and “pre-game” while maintaining the appropriate level of raging throughout the night. Unless, that is, you “pre-gamed harder than you party, lol.”

Well then, congratulations. You were inappropriately sloppy.

Nights “out” happen post-college, when you “go out with some friends for drinks” while standing awkwardly at the end of the bar, trying to consciously look like you aren’t scanning the crowd for a suitable Wall Street man, or a suit that at least resembles one of the financial district crowd.

Or, maybe you are the girl drinking a beer with your male colleagues in an effort to look chill, while you yearn to slip out of your heels and enjoy a glass of white wine while you read a trashy mag.

Unless it’s the weekend, when you morph into It Girl status and do it up, college style, at bars with names like “Calico Jacks” or “Brother Jimmys.” And then you can always blame everything on the fast-paced lifestyle of New York City.

By the way, I define It Girl as one who:

1. Wears skinny jeans, heels and a silky, unidentifiable-brand shirt almost every Friday or Saturday evening. May or may not alternate with a silky-sheer dress and wedges, or a high waisted skirt. Avoids comments like “Why is your skirt so high?” or “Is that an extra large wallet, or your purse?” Knows she has fashion sense, and she must, in order to survive.
2. Consistently enjoys “vodka-tonics, with a splash of cran.”
3. Runs into someone from their Alma Mater at almost every bar, despite the fact that there are hundreds of bars in Manhattan alone. 4. Eats sushi for dinner, but buys a slice of pizza late night.
5. Can often be found tanning in a park the next day wearing bug-eye sunglasses circa Mary-Kate’s “homeless chic” stage and a Jodi Picoult book.
6. Is conscious of her texting addiction, but indulges anyway.
7. Slips into heels in the bathroom before entering the office space.
8. Alternates between reading blogs at work and actually doing work.
Etc.

Long sidenote. If this is you, I’m sure we’d get along very well.

The thought about the nuances inherent in a night out dawned on me last week during a night “out” with some friends at a crowded bar in a town called “Conshy.” The name enough should be a suitable indicator of the type of people who socialize there.

While we sat at a table, attempting conversation over the “Saturday night DJ remix” beats, I thought to myself, can we ever achieve the aura of carefree again?

We talked about our lives. In high school and college, lives did not exist. They merely faded into the background of petty drama, boyfriends, broken hearts, angry parents, fattening foods and too many drinks. It was one life, and we all lived it, together. We moved in one network surrounded by the familiar.

Adulthood reared its ugly head at the bar that night, and for a second I wondered if in ten years it would be okay to order the $2 beer by the round, accidentally walk in on a cute boy peeing or pretend to be a surfing champion to random strangers. Not like those things happened.

Once families, jobs and new friends caught up with us, the silly would fade.

I do not know if anyone else noticed that our conversations now revolved around responsibilities, feelings, real relationships and “the next step,” but time had shifted and taken us with it.

And, since I am lucky enough to have friends who are often on the same page as I am, a camera began to go off. Maybe its stupid to take pictures of the same four people consistently (+1 FOG), but they illustrate how to still “act college, but be a young professional.” It’s okay to forget about life for a moment.

So, as a complimentary anti-dote to an otherwise reflective post, I’ll include some here.

Exhibit A:

Many bottles, check. Still maintaining a carefree appearance, check. Polished look…ehrm….

Everyone should have a designated driver. Luckily for us, the pictured person was nice enough to volunteer that night. She is, after all, a camp counselor.

Whoa! Are those girls drunk? Or, better yet, are they twins?

The twins thing is a great trick. I know this because one time we tricked the school librarian, a 75-year-old nun with a tendency to pass gas during “library period” at school, into thinking we were fraternal twins. And, a guy at a bank one day. That’s enough proof for me.

Stack bottles, not cans. You’re classier already!

Anyway.

I was enjoying this dive into nostalgia with the company of friends, when we headed to the bar to close up our tabs. As we leaned against the wood counter, trying to catch the bartender’s studiously-downward gaze, I noticed two “men” inching closer to us.

“YO! What’s up?” clearly-intoxicated male said.

“Uh…”

“Where you ladies headed?”

He glanced at his friend, and they exchanged the waggle-eyebrow. I pretended not to notice.

“I think to…home.”

A cloud of confusion passed over his features as he tried to decipher whether or not Home was the newest hot spot.

“Whaddid you say? Sparks? Yeah, us too, us too!”

“Uh…”

I averted my gaze to the check that had finally arrived. I heard my friend say the word “cheap” in a passing remark, probably about the drinks or check. I thought I had shaken the cronies until I felt a large paw land on my shoulder.

“Yeah, these are cheap drinks right? I know, I’m cheap as anything too!”

I gave him a blank look and tried to interpret his comment. Then I realized there was nothing to interpret.

I put the word anything in italics because crony actually said a word not commonly used in print. And why would a male, in a feeble attempt to meet women, proclaim his cheapness, drunken-ness and utter crapability right away?

And that’s when I realized that despite nostalgic pangs for the past, it might be time to embrace the change that is coming.

Growing up can be rough, but being a grown-up could be fun.