I have successfully cut the boy’s hair. And it doesn’t look half bad. Actually, he looks damn good, but I can’t really take credit for that. And truth be told, I did use electric clippers, but I COULD have screwed it up, and I didn’t. So I’m proudly calling myself Delilah.
I don’t seem to have stripped him of any powers yet, but I felt rather pleased with myself and oddly exhilarated. It’s a boring type of exhilaration, I suppose. Much like when I make a meal for the first time and it turns out well. In my humble opinion I’m a bit young to be finding bliss in so much domesticity, but truth be told that’s only by my own generation’s standards. If I was part of the Baby Boomer generation I’d probably have a couple of kids by now.
I actually have this theory that twenty- and thirty-somethings are settling down much later than previous generations had largely in part to what they watch on TV. Think about it. What was I – and most others my age – watching in high school and college? Friends. Seinfeld. Sex in the City. Will & Grace. Basically any show that romanticized moving to the city, making your friends your family, and staying single well into your thirties.
Said shows also romanticize being funny, beautiful, and solving all of life’s toughest problems within a 30-minute span of time, but that’s for another entry.
The urban component to this theory is quite important, as the people I went to high school with who are now married with children are those who live in the suburbs. The desire to do this never made sense to me personally, and it also seemed to create a weird chicken-or-the-egg sort of scenario. Did they stay in (or move back to) the suburbs because they were ready to settle down, or did they prematurely settle down because they stayed in the suburbs? Things that make you go hmmm …
I remember my friends and I hearing about those same people getting married at 22 or 23 and speaking about them in pittying tones. Wow. What a shame. Cut down in their prime.
It didn’t escape us that they were probably referring to us as sad cases too. Poor things. Sitting around together every night drinking wine. Must be so lonely and incomplete.
Funny how geography can influence your perspective of things. But then so can age. Wonder how old we’ll all be when we start viewing single people as sad?
Maybe we never will. Perhaps they’ll come out with a mid-life crisis spin-off of Friends, with everyone moving back to New York and picking right back up where they were, all back around that coffee table at Central Perk. And then all will be right with the world again.
Until then I suppose I’ll have to accept my impending adulthood in baby steps. One haircut at a time.