Hey! It’s Septober! Also! We’re old!
The following conversation happened last weekend:
GoldDust: We still need to learn to golf.
L.A.: We live in Michigan. Our chances are over. We have officially entered the “snow and complain about life” portion of the year.
GoldDust: We can go to indoor places.
L.A.: THEY HAVE THOSE? Indoor sand traps? Can we wear bikinis and pretend it’s the beach?!
GoldDust: It’s actually just like the range. We can just hit golf balls.
L.A.: I’m less thrilled.
GoldDust: But then next summer, we can go out and be pros.
L.A.: …can we still dress up?
It was on my list of things “to do” this summer, completely separate from my life goal list, to learn to golf. We talked about it, and talked about it, and talked about it*. And then we never did it. Apparently, the point of this blog is that what comes with my quarter life crisis is the year flying by.
Septem October, kids. It’s time to think about Halloween and pumpkins and wearing leggings under my scrubs.
But all this golf talk reminded me of the following event from last summer:
I had a date today.
Don’t get too excited. Actually, scroll up to the top of the page and get excited over the new header. That’s about as gleeful as I’m letting you get.
Let me repeat myself: I had a date today.
I’m not talking like I had a date earlier and now it’s over and I’m blogging about it. It’s 9:58 am. When would this date have happened? 7 am breakfast? 5 am booty call? No.
I had a date. It just didn’t happen.
Let’s call this boy D. We don’t know, after all, if he’ll be sticking around. It was a blind date, so not meeting him makes it harder for him to get a blog name. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed.
We made plans last Sunday to hang out today. He is supposed to teach me how to golf. I’m not sure why I want to learn to golf, but it seems like one of those things that gets a conversation going. Do you golf? Oh yes, I play at random golf course. Oh, I’ve played out there, it’s a beautiful course.
On second thought, I just fell asleep thinking about that conversation. I just want to learn to say that I did. And buy cute plaid shorts. And a matching polo.
Well. Here we are. Last night I was thinking to myself…how the hell did we decide on golfing? And I was debating if I was going to pull a typical L.A. move and bail before he got the chance to not be what I was looking for, or to bail on me, etc.
Did you know you can’t play golf in the rain?
So, let me repeat myself: I had a date today.
I’m going to have to write this boy a sternly worded letter informing him of these indoor golf places.
How about you, readers? Did you realize that it’s October?!
*By “talked about it,” I definitely mean “discussed knee socks.”