My Silly Regrets

As another birthday looms closer, I find myself reflecting on my past in hopes that it will give me the wisdom to better navigate another year. I’ve always believed in living without regrets, but now I think they’re inevitable. Admittedly, mine are slight- I never missed the opportunity to marry the love of my life, murdered someone in cold blood (at least I wouldn’t admit that here or that would be truly regretful) or missed filling out a lotto ticket when I knew the winning number, but I still have a short list of things I feel remorse for:

1- That I didn’t dress sluttier when I was younger. In my early twenties I had an amazing body, but I never appreciated it and instead focused on its trivial flaws, never imagining it would bloom three sizes once I got married. Also, I never showed said body off, but instead hearkened to the bogus claims that I needed to be overly modest. Now I’m not saying I wanted to look like a $2 buck hussy, but maybe a strapless dress or cleavage flirting tank wouldn’t of been uncalled for—surely no man or rabid lesbian was going to haul me into the bushes for that and I think God would have appreciated me showing off the assets he created when they were still pointing ahead.

2- That I didn’t get more lovin’ when it was so wrong and felt so good. I also bought into the admonition that one shouldn’t have sex until marriage. Now I’m not saying you should go out and hump anything with goose-bumped flesh (especially before you’re an adult), but when you’ve been with someone for four years and you’re engaged, is some sex so deviant? And why when said fiancé touches your boobs two days before the ceremony should one feel compelled to run and tell his farmer neighbor turned bishop to ask for spiritual absolution? You may think, well, then is it regretful to only have had sex with one person? And I’d say no- I’m perfectly content to have sexually embarrassed myself in front of only one person.


3- That I married so young. Clearly regret number #2 lead to regret #3. I in no way feel remorse for who I married, just that due to the constraint of our culture we felt so obligated to marry before we’d even finished college. Sometimes I wonder about the opportunities I missed because decisions had to be made as a couple, but the flip side is that we enjoyed seven childless years where we traveled. I also would’ve enjoyed more of those single years when I was responsible for no one but myself, didn’t have to listen to snoring, and cherished that I alone could be the best company.

So those are the petty major three and what should I take from them as I enter into my 32nd year? I think Katherine Hepburn said it best, “If you obey the rules, you miss all the fun,” so this year I’m taking her advice and let’s see if this makes it a year without adding silly regrets.

Weird Things Are Starting To Happen

A few months ago I got myself a Facebook page and it’s been a blessing and a curse. Suddenly people I haven’t thought of in almost two decades are my “friend” again, several of them folks I really didn’t want to recall. For instance, tonight I reconnected with my first kiss. This momentous event was with my neighbor boy who was two years older than me. I was sixteen at the time and he’d offered to walk me home after a late-night summer game of catch the flag with mutual friends. I should’ve known something was up since I lived just across the street. When I got to the garage door he lunged forward, his mouth on mine, his braces grating again my lips while his tongue tried to bypass my fortress of straight teeth. It was like something out of Alien. I was surprised since I had no idea he'd any interest, plus he was dating the girl next door. Disappointed THIS was my first kiss, I graciously pulled away and said goodnight. I ran inside and told my mother and the next day I told all the girls in the neighborhood. Bad move on my part, but by now from reading my entries, you know it was predictable. When word got back to him that I’d told everyone about the kiss, he denied it. I was crestfallen and branded a liar since he had more credibility in our ward.

Moving on to fifteen years later, I link up with him through Facebook. When I look as his profile picture I see a grown man with a wide receding hairline who hasn’t aged well, a husband, a father and it scares me. I know that if the world views him as someone getting on in years then I’m not far off. It’s nice to be reminded of my youth, even if it’s not my happiest memory but my best revenge is that my husband is one of those men who looks more spectacular with age. Hopefully my first kiss checks out the photo gallery so he knows I'm kissing on a better man every night...wow, seeing that guy on Facebook makes me feel younger, I'm thinking like a sixteen-year-old again.