I went to the wedding reception for my friend's mom. My friend went to St. Olaf for college so I hung out with the St. Olaf Gays when I wasn't awkwardly hanging out with kids who were in anywhere from seventh to tenth grade when I graduated high school and whose siblings I actually graduated with, and said siblings are now all engaged and have grown-up jobs and it is allegedly going to be okay. All night I had my usual existential crisis in my head -- I am Peter Pan and everyone else either stayed in college or actually graduated, Mommy Issues Mommy Issues Mommy Issues -- then quieted them with wine and convinced myself that such insecurities were all in my head.
After my sixth glass of wine, I was sitting at a table with the two St. Olaf gays and their gal pals. I was sort of a fifth wheel in that everyone at the table was conscious I was there and while they accepted my interjections, I still wasn't really part of the conversation. It was okay. I enjoy soaking things in. Then this happened as we were discussing the gay club experience (and they mentioned a gay club in Minneapolis that I have somehow NEVER heard of, WTF):
ST. OLAF GAY #1: I mean, I'm into older guys.
ST. OLAF GAY #2: They're more put together.
ST. OLAF GAY #1: So much drama otherwise.
ST. OLAF GAY #2: It's so immature.
ST. OLAF GAY #1: Or, like, they work retail.
ST. OLAF GAY #2 AND FAG HAGS: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
FAG HAG #1: Yeah, like retail is only acceptable when you're between 16 and 20. Otherwise ...
FAG HAG #2: Yeah!
ST. OLAF GAY #1: Ridiculous!
ST. OLAF GAY #2: Um, Nordstrom Rack is the exception.
JAKEY: I have to pee.
I tried to cavort with the 20 year olds but I was too sad and could no longer hide it. I met one of their mothers and tried to joke about being on my sixth wine glass. She did not laugh. Halfway through my two-mile walk home in the Minnesota tundra, I realized that her son that introduced us has been in rehab and I am a real winner.