I turned 26 a month ago. And I gotta tell you, it kinda stunk. Not the birthday itself: that was awesome. Basketball + all you can eat Korean BBQ = win. Rather, it was the first time in my life I actively didn’t look forward to my birthday. Before I turned 18, my birthday was like another Christmas. Turning 18 was awesome since it felt like I was becoming an adult (even if I wasn’t). 20 was awesome, since I was entering a new decade. 21 was awesome because I could finally legally gamble (and I never did afterward…)
Even 25 wasn’t all that bad, since I felt like I was entering the prime of my life. But now I’m 26, and I’m officially closer to 30 than 20. I’m old.
And yes, I know, I’m not really that old. And I apologize, since it kind of stinks to hear younger people complain that they’re old. Collegians complain to me about their age all the time, and all I want to do is slap them upside the head. Rule of thumb: if you’re younger than me, you’re not old. Unless you’re Joo.
But the thing that really makes me feel old is that my parents tried to set me up for the first time. Of course, my parents are my parents; they weren’t really blatant about it. My dad and I were on IM, and it went something like this:
Dad: Hey, there’s this girl that we want you to meet.
Me: Wait, are you trying to set me up?
Dad: No, we just want you to meet her. You know, e-mail, and if anything happens, well…
Me: You’re totally trying to set me up! Thanks, but it’s OK.
Dad: Don’t you want to know anything about her?
Me: It’s OK. I mean, is she even Christian?
Dad: Actually, yes.
Me: Oh. Well, is she cute (delete delete) it’s OK, I don’t really wanna be set up.
Dad: OK, well, if that’s what you want.
I don’t really know why I have such a bias against being set up. Part of it is that I feel like it just shouldn’t happen that way. I feel like it should start organically, say with a chance meeting outside of an elevator. Our attraction will be immediate, but unspoken. After a series of zany misunderstandings, we’ll realize that we’re meant for each other, and…I have GOT to stop watching romantic comedies.
But I think the main issue is my pride more than anything. I know it’s wrong, but the first thing I wanted to say to my dad was, “What, you don’t think I can find a girl on my own?” And that’s completely not the point. And even if it was, it’s not like I have girls knocking down my door right now. The last time a girl approached me was a couple years ago. I remember because it was when Andrew Kim came to visit me. Or more accurately, Susan came to visit Heidi. It must have been just after Black Friday, because I remember wearing this grey Gap sweatshirt that I had bought for $5. (Andrew: Nice, Tim. Bringing back the 1980s!)
Anyway, we decided to take Andrew and Susan over to Hash House for breakfast, since it felt like a good part of SD to show off. We were told that there would be a 15 minute wait, which we had come prepared for. So we wandered off a bit so that we could talk for a bit. After about five minutes, the girl comes over to our group, looks me straight in the eye, and says, “Here, let me do something for you.”
My first reaction is to look behind me to see who she’s really talking to. (A lifetime of being around/living with other Tims has trained me to look around before responding.) But to my amazement, there is no one behind me.
So I turn back around, and I realize that the girl is walking uncomfortably close to me. And the fight-or-flight adrenaline is kicking in. I mean this literally. In my freshman year of college, I got slapped in the butt when I was standing in the cafeteria line. My first impulse was to turn around and get into a ninja defensive stance so I can fight off…the girl with the mortified look on her face, stammering, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else” before slinking off.
Fortunately, this time, I am in enough control of my facilities that I don’t ninja chop her. But I can’t really figure out what she wants either, so I just freeze. And she’s just getting closer, and closer…and she reaches her hand out…touches my sweatshirt…and rips the “M M M M M M M” sticker that I had forgotten to peel off.
We had all been quiet while she was approaching, but then Andrew has to break the silence with this: “Man, if you were better looking, we wouldn’t have to wait another 10 minutes.” Yeah, I know, Andrew. Shush.
…
Well, enough of that. Hopefully I’ll be updating more frequently…until I don’t.
-Tim