shinyredthings.

Scary, grownup things.

I met my friend, Aurelia for a late lunch today, crammed in amongst the million other things I had to do - my family is leaving for Noosa tomorrow, where my mum is showcasing her business at a conference, so between placating my stressed father, packing the caravan, finishing the website and putting together Ikea furniture, I somehow made it out to eat.

Aurelia and I go way back, about ten years, to high school days in pink uniforms. Yup, that’s me in the red, being propped up by my friends, whilst Aurelia looks vastly more civilised in her black leather jacket. We’re all grown up now… ish.

At the grand old age of 25, I’m starting to feel old. Aurelia’s boyfriend Chris proposed last year; I got to ogle the large, glittery rock on her finger, and spent the afternoon discussing weddings, houses and the possibility of babies. I felt surprisingly ok with this, however at the same time, it felt very strange. I’ve seen women get clucky with babies, and whilst I’m definitely not clucky for those, nor am I yearning for a sparkly ring and a floofy dress, I can’t help but think about life - its unending march towards chaos, its costs, and its rewards. I’m acrimoniously alluding to the relationships we build, etc, etc, puke.

I’m travelling to Melbourne next week to see another old friend, Tegan, the one in the photo holding the martini glass. She’s still unchanged - I expect to see her with a martini glass in her hand in nine days time. She’s a driven, passionate, pragmatic and selective woman who helped inspire me to move around the world and chase a dream, who knows exactly what she wants and is unafraid to ask for it. She, also, is at the early wedding discussion stage. Whilst I know she’s not into kids, at least not at this stage, it is oddly unsettling to see someone else I thought of as winging it adventurously through life be at a similar, comfortable point.

It may be the fact that I’m homesick, and therefore overly sensitive to coupledom at the moment, but I feel like downing several shots of tequila, putting on my five inch heels and dancing to ‘Love Shack’, just to prove I’ve still got it going on and I’m not ‘there’ yet. I can’t pretend not to be intimidated just a little by the looming cloud of responsible adulthood.

Oh, and one more quick snapshot… this one’s going in the pool room, boys.