Today, as one of my very best friends embarks on the journey of a lifetime, well maybe the journey of a year (she turns 21 today), I have come to a realization. I never was and never will be the first one of my friends to get to do something cool.
Blame my parents or my superior intellect; but them throwing me into kindergarten when I was 4 is really f*cking me up big time.
The summer that everyone had their first seasonal jobs? Not me. I was at home being broke watching Jerry Springer while everyone I possibly wanted to hang out with was at work making really awesome minimum wage.
In high school, I always had to get picked up by the mom-mobile, because I couldn’t just drive myself since I had to wait an extra 10 months after my friends before I got my license.
In college, as all of my best friends turn 21 around me, I find myself sitting in my onesie with my juice box, waiting anxiously for them to get home and tell me about how glamorous their night out was and how freely the champagne flowed.
That cross country road trip that I would love to take? I’ll have to ask my friends about that one too, since they’ll all be 25 and old enough to rent a car way before me.
But alas, every cloud has its silver lining.
At 12, Jerry Springer only occupied half of my time, the other half was used to soak up the sun and get a kickin’ tan by the pool.
At 17, while all of my friends were paying car insurance and panicking about not having enough gas to get them through the week, I was gladly propping my feet up on the passenger side dashboard, thinking about what I could order from my favorite store online.
Now, being 20, I can’t help but think, when I finally turn 21, every single one of my friends will be able to be there to celebrate and buy me a drink, no excuses – like not being old enough.
So, keep that it mind, September 30th, see all you f*ckers there.
Until then, a GIANT Happy Birthday to my crazy best friend, Ash. Make good decisions and please make it to September.