When the Cat's Away... Pt. 4: No Sex, No City

Logan Bruno approves of the following guest post

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No Sex, No City

I don't know what So@24 was thinking.

I mean, he knows. I complain about it in a manner he somehow finds charming (judging by typed laughter simulations, at least): I am not exactly living the Sex and the City sort of single life.

Also, I hate Sex and the City.

There is no city. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions about the amount of sex.

It's probably my parents' fault. How dare they meet in high school and embark upon a successful thirty-plus year relationship? Thanks for the unrealistic expectations, Mom and Dad. I've already failed! (I suspect my mom also thinks I've already failed, judging by the meaningful looks she gives me whenever I'm back in New York and we see a Match.com commercial on tv. Mom, just because I'm a goof looking for my ball doesn't mean I'm ready to hit up the whole online dating thing. Damn.)

A little history: So@24 and I have similar backstories. For a long time, I was in a Relationship. Yeah, a capital-letter relationship. We lived together for three years. The last seven months were post-breakup. Those seven months were just as awesome as you might imagine; there was even a wall of cardboard blocking off half the living room at one point.

No joke. Here's where I reference the Kaiser Chiefs: settling down in your early twenties sucked more blood than a backstreet dentist.

So here I am, a year and a half later, 25 years old and a swingin' single. Except, you know, not so much.


Then there's the whole “college town” thing. I live in Amherst, Massachusetts. (Okay, technically I live in Sunderland, a bustling metropolis with exactly 1 traffic light and, like, some mountains. Like I said, no city.) Home to the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Also known as UMass. Also known as ZooMass. Also known as 'the college that makes me feel really fucking old.'

I'm becoming more Liz Lemon-y by the minute. Yes Jack, my date nights do involve me at a nice restaurant* with a good book.

Thanks for rubbing it in.

Like, there are bars downtown. It's the scene or whatever. People go there to get rowdy and – from what I can tell – grope each other. Strangers! Groping! Those wacky kids!

My last experience downtown resulted in me telling my friends in a horrified and confused manner about the random guy who came up to me and put his hands on my waist “as if I was his girlfriend.” Quelle horreur! This is how you meet people?

God, I am way too old for this.

Ripe ol' age of 25. Somebody get me a shawl and a cane. I guess I'm from a kindler, gentler time. I'm not completely opposed to getting drunk. But can't we just split a bottle of wine and put our feet up and maybe have an Arrested Development marathon and then go to bed early? Spoon a little? I'll even be the big spoon for like five minutes (admit it ladies, we all want to be the little spoon).


I should just get some damn cats already, shouldn't I.

- Kim
whatclaudiawore.blogspot.com


* Burger King