>Save Me From the Plastic People.
>At 23, I’m invited to meet my high school friend, Cindy, for lunch. She’s engaged and wants me to meet her fiance.
“This is Clyde,” she says proudly, introducing us.
Clyde? Clyde?!
I swallow hard and smile. “Hi, Clyde, good to meet you.” I’ve gotta give this guy the benefit of the doubt. And I do, even after he tells me he’s an associate manager at a nearby chicken factory. Even after he brags repeatedly about the fact that he has his own secretary.
“…Well, I have to share her with one other guy, but she does whatever I tell her to do.”
A half-hour of inane conversation later, Cindy tugs on the large locket hanging on her neck and asks if I’ve noticed what’s inscribed on it. Clyde.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she says smugly. “Clyde gave it to me for my birthday.”
I wonder why he left out the If lost, please return me to part.
Excusing myself, I practically run for the restroom, where I lock myself in a stall and giggle uncontrollably. Because all I can think of is the two of us in high school, watching this moment play out eight years down the road.
“That’s my husband?!” the 15-year-old Cindy would’ve laughed derisively. “His name is Clyde?! And he works in a chicken factory! Fuck!“
But even as I’m laughing, I’m also deeply disappointed. Because it’s painfully clear that Cindy and I won’t have any more moments of hysterical laughter together, ever again. She has crossed over into the mysterious and horrifically dull-looking land of Adulthood, a place where lockets inscribed with Clyde are actually appealing. A place that at 23 I am nowhere near approaching.
A place where even now at 31, I still don’t feel at home.
We all laughed at Cindy in our early 20s. We would never, ever, ever go down her road of elementary school teaching, seguing comfortably into full-time mommyhood. But as the years rolled by, more and more of us fell prey to Adulthood’s siren call. My wild artist friend went to law school. My anti-establishment buddy became a doctor and made his dumpy, nagging girlfriend into his dumpy, nagging wife. Even I, by all appearances, have joined the ranks of Adults. Surely my three kids and house in the suburbs qualify me for membership.
But while their conversation has transitioned from rock bands and cool bars to country clubs and golf courses, I feel like I’m mentally stuck in a weird time warp. I can’t relate. I mean, what would I want with a country club? They’re full of backslappers and helmetheads. Screw the Symphony Ball. Let’s use our impressive connections to get backstage passes for Radiohead. Or drink a bunch of beers and prank call the DeGolian twins.
The whole thing came to a head when I got an e-mail not long ago from a guy who without question was my wackiest friend in high school. He wore crazy vintage shirts, shared my Brady Bunch obsession, and introduced me to Atlanta’s most bizarre hideaways, like the rickety antique shop owned by a weird little man who populated the place with dozens of 1960s mannequins and painstakingly changed their poses and outfits each day. Throughout our 20s, my friend would send me rambling and hilarious e-mails, helping me hold onto the belief that some of us, at least, would never change. Thank God.
This latest e-mail, though, was different. He teaches college now at a hip university and he wrote of his work on an impressive thesis topic and of returning soon to Paris. He used big words, called Baby my “little one” and worst of all, signed the whole thing with, “Warmly.”
Warmly? I gasped. They’d finally gotten to him, too. “Soylent green is people!” I muttered to myself, realizing with a growing horror that I may officially be the last 31-year-old I know of to have escaped the Grown-Ups’ dastardly clutches.
So what happens next? Will I wake up one morning with a mysteriously blank stare and a new appreciation for Bunco and khaki? Or am I doomed forever to be an imposter in the adult world? Honestly, I can’t decide which is worse.
>I am definatly an imposter in the grown up world. So is my hubby I am so glad we have eachother lol. I think I would really go crazy if I had to switch over.
>So that’s why you don’t come to Bunco!Just teasing, Lindsay! Most of the time I feel like I’m still 6 and playing house! I look around at my home and my children and my mortgage and my comfortable shoes and wonder, “When the hell did all this happen?”
>Were you listening to Bob Seger when you wrote this? I can almost hear Bob crooning:now, sweet sixteen has turned 31…Seriously, this is the way I feel every day of my life.
>Don’t you fucking dare grow up. I like you all immature like me. 🙂
>this makes my day – although I don’t have a family and am not married, I feel like a big faker when I’m in “adult situations”Whew! I’m not alone!
>Fabulous. I’m 18 and i LOVE bunco. What will I turn out to be when I’m 23!?? Someone who watches Golden Girls? The horror!!!
>EVERYONE loves Bunco now. It is a sign of the End Times, I’m convinced.
>I am in a bunco group and occasionally wear khaki pants. But, there is hope. I still occasionally wait for a lull in the car and I shout out the Soylent Green line from SNL. I am not plastic, though I’m surrounded by plastic people who run up their plastic cards. AND, I used to LOVE reruns of the Brady Bunch!I think we need to start an underground movement of those who have managed to hold on to a nice dark sense of humor amidst our suburban cookie-cutter exteriors. One day, we could rule the world, I’m sure of it…
>I feel strange too. When I started to understand why people have Holiday dishes and actually wanted some myself, I cringed. And when I suddenly got the urge last month to want to buy myself an APRON for when I’m in the kitchen, I had to hit myself. No growing up here. No way.
>My mother just yesterday asked when I was going to grow up.If it means turning into her, I’ll gladly thumb my nose and be an imposter.Bring on Radiohead.
>Next step is mom jeans. Pleated jeans that creep halfway up to your boobs. Over your big mom belly. Any day now. Big mom jeans.
>Wait. You shop at garage sales, drive carpool and go on playdates…sure sounds like a grownup to me. ;^) Seriously, though, I notice that I do a lot of grownup things, largely associated with raising my son; nevertheless, I feel about twenty years old half the time, for better or for worse. At a thrift shop with my sisters last weekend, the proprietor called us “girls.” I wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted…or thankful. ;^)
>I thought if I had kids I would automatically switch over — SO glad to know I can go down the baby road and can still be an imposter.
>I turned 31 in August. I’m not married, no kids. I listen to punk and ska music. I go out dancing and to jujitsu mid-week, every week. I love parties. I made a comment to my boyfriend (age 27) the other day about, “when we become grown-ups…” His response? “We are grown-ups!” I was horrified this year, when, after buying a house, looking at furniture and paint colors became fascinating!
>what is the phrase you are looking for…’…Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night…’
>I’m 41 and still waiting to grow up. I still want my mommy from time to time. I can’t believe the things some people take so seriously and I wonder what happened to my friends and their dreams and how did they get to be so angry? And flat? And rolled over? Where did they go?
>When I turned 30 I swore that I would contuine to drink out of the milk carton. I see people from high school and cringe, at the SUV’s and matching watches.
>Um… what is bunco?That being said, I am 33. Holy crap! I still act like I’m 23 if an unhealthy obsession with all things Hello Kitty is any indication.I figure I’m making up for all of the time I was 14 going on 40.
>Whatever you do, stay away from cosmetic surgery. Fake Botox would not become you.
>I will be 33 (gasp!) in January and I feel like the fencepost is stuck firmly up my ass. You know, that fence you are supposed to go over when transitioning from college to adulthood? Um, yeah, have the grown-up job, car, etc., but as I was heading to work this morning I had Ludicris blaring from my radio. I hope to have the husband and kids someday but I can’t see giving up my “immature” ways. I have some friends that have married, turned in their hip clothes for those mommy jeans, minivans and those proud conversations of being such a grown-up. In my mind I know that I am a grown-up but I don’t feel like it, even when I am sitting in meetings and being asked my opinion on how to handle a project. So, yeah, if you want to start the underground movement, let me know, I will join. . .
>I’m the same way. When people brag about their boat or their extra sports car, I forget to brag about my Harley.
>I’m in my mid 30s and feel like an imposter every day!I listen to punk and thrash metal. I am a BOSS. I have a six year old…When I rec’d a letter to schedule a parent/teacher conference, I panicked. I looked at my husband and said “Do you think that they REALLY want me to go in? I mean, they don’t even know me!”
>Good grief, if it’s any consolation I’m 40, work in a high powered corporate environment and I too meet all the FDA requirements for adulthood… but I also put makeup on with my kid and crimp her hair cause it’s fun dammit,listen to rock music at blaring decimals in my buick and wear crystals in my hair and I don’t own ANY khaki capris or comfortable shoes… I feel like all the mom’s around me have a bad case of terminal maturity that frankly, I’m not interested in coming down with! No attention span for bunco, but anyone up for bowling & skating friday nite?
>I’m 33, and luckily my friends and I (who all have houses and kids) still act like we’re in our 20’s. We party it up a lot less, but we still swear like mad, most still smoke ciggies or pot and we listen to the latest music and go to concerts and pogo about in the front rows.When I think about my life, the house, kids, mortgage etc, it’s all like it’s someone else doing it and I’m still 22 watching it all happen.
>You are my hero!Soylent Green is PEOPLE!!!I’m 41 and impersonating a grownup. This Janie Statistic is a married mother of 2 five year-olds, home-owning, dog-owning, minivan driving IMPOSTER.How did this happen?? I think I say that out loud at least once a day.PS. Will someone please tell me what bunco is?
>I’m 39, LOVE techno music, have to hide my CDs so my children do not take off with them when they arrive. Childhood best friend since I was in 2nd grade just contacted me recently. Nothing has really changed between us since we saw each other at my wedding. She has a daughter and I have three children. We are both still fun and look at life as fun. After all we have to project some sort of “life is fun and magical” for our children. Man Son and Sweet Sixteen still get a kick out of me being real and still like me to be Mom too. “Mom, can you still throw a baton under your leg, 12 feet in the air and catch it?” “I don’t have to go to bed now. I am too old to go to bed this time of night” as they walk up the stairs to their rooms. “Oh, you were right…” Ok that last one will go on and on as they grow each year. That is my balance…to my children I am the ultimate authority and I am fun on the side. To me that is the perfect grownup. That and still being able to shock my parents during a formal dinner.
>The only thing that has changed since I saw my best friend from 2nd grade on was that we now have children.
>Lindsay,meet Sarcasmo.www.sarcasmoscorner.com She would have been in the bathroom stall with you.
>Ever since I somehow was given the keys to a freakin’ M– USEUM a few months back and put in charge I’ve had the same feeling of being an imposter. It also doesn’t help that I’ve known my husband since I was 5 and my best friend since I was 14. Luckily, just this morining I got in a good round of purely juvinile behavior with hubs and will be having lunch with the best friend which will help my inner 12 year old cut loose.
>I just wrote about the same thing today on my site. well almost. The need to keep dancing like a silly fool. The need to still be me even though i’m an adult. 30, whew! Currently I’m at my desk at work listening to the Rainbow connection while I price material. I have to do something I price material!Keep it up Lindsay!
>I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up… but I don’t think it was this.
>I often feel that way when other people put me in charge… I wonder if they really know what they are doing. I’m a total imposter.
>Another impostor signs in. Not quite thirty and about as grown up as I am going to get. Through out my childhood I couldn’t wait to grow up so that I’d know everything and always know how to act in any given situation. Then one day I realized we’re all impostors! I guess that’s the day I grew up. (Also, what’s bunco?)
>LOL funny…
>Please, oh, please, tell me where in Atlanta there is a “rickety antique shop owned by a weird little man who populated the place with dozens of 1960s mannequins and painstakingly changed their poses and outfits each day.”I must see this place. Please, the suburbs are killing me….
>Having just attended a 20 year hs reunion, I so know where you’re coming from. It was weird to see stoners as parents, athletes as twice-divorced retail jockeys, hot girls as schoolmarms. Change is good. But some change–Clyde change–well that’s just scary.
>I just looked up bunco-it’s a 3 dice game that came to N.A. from England around US Civil War. Gambling followed-hence-bunco squad.
>Thanks for the Bunco definition! Bunco is a dice game that’s very popular with suburban women. I’ve been asked to join bunco groups numerous times in the last year and I think it must be a sign that adulthood is growing ever closer.I don’t know if the antique shop is still there, but in high school, it was on Piedmont Road in the antique district and one or two mannequins were always outside provocatively posed on 50s automobile. Inside, things got downright scary. The man had bought what was left of a mannequin factory that burned down- In addition to his favorites, he had a whole room in back of mannequin parts you could (and we did!) buy.
>Oh, yeah – no growing up! I just turned 39 and I was with a group of friends last weekend that got thrown out of Tin Roof. Well, not technically thrown out since we were already outside, but asked to step away!
>Oh! THANK the Lord! I thought I was the last one….I’m glad I found your site! I’m another ATL suburbinite (PTC) just waiting to meet a few “normal” people my age who are kicking and screaming their way to adulthood.
>I’m with you. I feel so out of place. Irreverent perhaps is the word. I’d rather laugh at someone that be like them.
>whew. So glad to hear that I’m not the only one. I was starting to think that there was something seriously wrong with me.. The whole tail end of my 20s has been spent wondering if I would wake up, the day I turn thirty, desperately unable to stop myself from talking about grocery store deals and singing the clean up song to my kids.. i was scared.. good to know that I will be just as un-“grown up” at 30 as I am at 29.. How refreshing that I can simultaneously have a mortgage, listen to the Strokes, feel utterly lost amongst (and confused by) the other parents around me and STILL be in good company with the lot of you ladies. you light up my life. (wait. that was a debbie boone quote.. oh. god. it’s happening!!)
>Don’t bash Bunco! It’s my one good excuse to get out of the house and away from the kids. Some of the women in my group are Moms with a capital M and look like it. The rest of us are just there to get drunk and talk about sex and have a break from responsibility for a few hours. Plus, someone takes home $150 at the end of the night.As far as the rest, I totally agree. All this grown up stuff sucks. I’ve had a very hard time figuring out who I am now that I have a husband, a house, and 1.5 kids, plus a dog and a cat. I was really perplexed recently when I tried to find a weeknight babysitter so my husband and I could go see Daniel Lanois play at a local club. When I asked a friend for a sitter recommendation, she was shocked that we would go out on a weeknight. I was mortified that she wouldn’t. I can’t believe how readily some folks give up their lives when they have kids. Not me, Babe. I ain’t gonna do it! I will go down kicking and screaming!
>Don’t bash Bunco! It’s my one good excuse to get out of the house and away from the kids. Some of the women in my group are Moms with a capital M and look like it. The rest of us are just there to get drunk and talk about sex and have a break from responsibility for a few hours. Plus, someone takes home $150 at the end of the night.As far as the rest, I totally agree. All this grown up stuff sucks. I’ve had a very hard time figuring out who I am now that I have a husband, a house, and 1.5 kids, plus a dog and a cat. I was really perplexed recently when I tried to find a weeknight babysitter so my husband and I could go see Daniel Lanois play at a local club. When I asked a friend for a sitter recommendation, she was shocked that we would go out on a weeknight. I was mortified that she wouldn’t. I can’t believe how readily some folks give up their lives when they have kids. Not me, Babe. I ain’t gonna do it! I will go down kicking and screaming!
>A Daniel Lanois fan! I love his Acadie album. And I’ve seen him at Jazz Fest in New Orleans and he was great. But he came to Nashville about two years ago and Hubs and I went to see him and we just had to leave because he. Was. Awful. He was dressed like a teenager and trying to play grunge or something and the sound system sucked and I was sorely disappointed. We both agreed it was the worst concert we’d ever been to.
>Thank YOU…you rule! How pathetic is Bunco. If I am going out to get some me time with my girls, I am not hanging out at my neighbors house for drunco. I am going dancing to the 80s (my idea of exercise and fun). And by the way I am going to a Gwen Stefani concert next month. Keep up the good work!