An Evening Spent in the Past

On Wednesday night, I met up with some old friends from school who I had yet to see so far this year. Firstly, I was excited to be doing something different. To be seeing some different faces to the ones I’ve become used to – my boyfriend and my family mostly. Don’t get me wrong, I do speak to my friends and see them when I can, but these are the girls. The ones I lost touch with were the boys.

And they’d grown so much! They looked like they fitted into their bodies instead of being those gangly, baby-faced, little boys I knew before.

Now, they are almost proper men!

But take that with a pinch of salt because I have more to say about that later. However, it was lovely catching up. To hear about their awards at university and the clubs they were a part of now. I did feel a little inferior in that I didn’t have as much to say about my own achievements in the last two years.

But then someone asked about my writing and I seemed to have developed verbal-diarrhea. I told them about my novel being finished and nearly being ready to publish. About my blog being new and exciting and getting me writing more often. I didn’t recognise myself. Usually, I’m the quiet one who watches the others having good conversations, adding the odd ‘ahh’ and ‘aha’ to it.

But when speaking about my writing, I was so excitable and loud and confident that it was nice. I had my audience captivated. I like it when I’m like that. It’s too rare which is a shame though.

Anyway, back to the boys. It wasn’t all sunshine and perfection. It didn’t take long for me to feel like I had slipped back into the past. And not in a particularly good way. They were still children. They were babies dressed as men. Their attitude was immature. You know this banter thing that everyone is on at the moment? Well they use this in abundance. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of banter myself. To joke about and playfully bully someone and vice versa.

But the “banter” wasn’t tasteful anymore. It wasn’t OK. There is two boys who are usually the target of the banter, you know, the little guys, but they were also the ones who had grown up the most. They were they ones growing and achieving and going places. So, to be back with the old gang and suddenly be demoted in the social hierarchy, it was awkward to witness. To be honest, I felt sorry for the ones who felt they had to put the others down in order to be “funny”. So, all of a sudden, I didn’t feel so rubbish about my achievements or who I am now. I had grown more than they had. Yes, I don’t have a fancy degree, or the ability to drink a thousand shots, or a club membership, or millions of interesting sexual experiences, but I had grown. I know who I am and who I want to be. I’m making things happen in my own way without being a copy-and-paste-person fresh out of uni.

I didn’t mean to offend anyone, I’m just going by what I believe in. It’s hard to be alone and an individual. It’s comforting to know you’re doing what ‘works’ and what everyone else is doing. But I can’t do that. I think it’ll be harder that way in the long run. You should consider that too, my fellow damsels. Be you. Be different. Be scared but do it anyway!

~ Damsel