Well, at least the city part is true
What’s our Story?
We are five women of the same generation (born somewhere between the late-1960s and mid-1970s) who work together and find ourselves simultaneously navigating the peaks and valleys of single-dom.
(In the spirit of inclusion, we are enlisting our married cohort to serve as the bracing voice of cohabitation. She’s cool though – she doesn’t live in the suburbs and her husband is just as nuts as the rest of us.)
Several of us live in a “transitional" neighborhood in Washington, DC and recently became down the street around the corner neighbors. We were sitting at a bar one night (the new and shiny neighborhood bar that popped up to serve the yuppies in the ‘hood who have paid more money for their homes than many of us will hope to see in a lifetime) drinking pumpkin ales and eating messy nachos, talking through our individual issues with dating, when Joy said, “We should start a blog!”
Some of us blog individually but those are blogs about things like running and careers and day jobs. Blogs that we can tell our parents to read. Blogs that allow our ex-boyfriends to stalk us from afar. Blogs that wouldn’t ever get us fired from work.
This is not going to be one of those blogs.
We wanted a blog where we could talk about dating and relating and kissing and sex.
This IS going to be one of THOSE blogs.
Who are we?
Kay, Adriane, Joy, Jane and Noel. I know – it totally sounds like the line up at Camelot (local DC topless joint) doesn’t it? Yes, all the names are changed to protect the innocent. It is better that way.
I am Adriane. My boyfriend of a year left me three months after I turned thirty. And sure, the relationship had only lasted a year. But in that year I had convinced myself (and for chrissakes – he had convinced me) that we were meant to have a future. I stupidly assumed that the future we would have would be together.
He was my best friend. He made me laugh when I needed to laugh. We played very well together.
It was everything a good relationship “should” be.
But screw the “should’s”. He walked out because he wasn’t sure. He left me without ever trying to work on what he thought wasn’t right. He bailed. And for that, I am very disappointed and a little bit angry at him.
So here I find myself weepy and shaky and so not in a place where I want to broach the wide world of dating.
But I venture forth.
And that’s MY story.