I arrived home in August after spending a a school year teaching in Indonesia and aI arrived home in August after spending a a school year teaching in Indonesia and a summer traveling through Europe (I think the idea of having too much money in a savings account must have made me uneasy. Luckily, the dollar is extremely weak and even after their economic disaster Iceland is still extremely, extremely expensive.). While I was away I felt like I was on an adventure. I found I loved spending the year playing Margaret Mead in the Bornean jungle studying the mysteries of sobriety, celibacy, and Allah.
However, it took about 72 hours for me to stop feeling like Indian Jones and start feeling very nervous. This was because something very strange happened while I was away. The one year I decided to dip out and move to the other side of planet Earth to experience life sans dive bars and rock shows, literally everyone I knew fell in love. They did not just fall into regular love. Nope. They fell madly and deeply in special, perfect love. They were planning to elope. They were planning to fill their wombs withbabies. They were planning on spending the rest of their lives with theirsoul mates. Some of these people had been single for over a decade. It was like there had been some weird cosmic shift and I had missed it. I felt this even more strongly since not only had I been completely and totally out of the game while living in Indo (I would like to take this opportunity to point out that if you think you might enjoy a few days alone in Rome, the most romantic city in the world, sightseeing surrounded by honeymooners, after spending a year with no french kissing in the jungle, you probably won't) , but there was also a disturbing lack of available bachelors hiding underneath my mom's sofa.
Am I a horrible bitch who was begrudging my friends their newfound happiness? No. I firmly believe that everyone should have lots of sex and babies and that people are not meant to live alone with cats or decorate their desks with framed pictures of their dogs. But I did start feeling a little afraid for myself. And I did start feeling like less and less people were laughing or even giggling at my pretty funny stories about failed "romances" and instead began responding with the sort of "Ohs" and "Ahs" that I thought were reserved for stories about brain tumors as if only a year before they hadn't been making out with guys with bad tattoos and drinking problems. summer traveling through Europe (I think the idea of having too much money in a savings account must have made me uneasy. Luckily, the dollar is extremely weak and even after their economic disaster Iceland is still extremely, extremely expensive.). While I was away I felt like I was on an adventure. I found I loved spending the year playing Margaret Mead in the Bornean jungle studying the mysteries of sobriety, celibacy, and Allah.
However, it took about 72 hours for me to stop feeling like Indian Jones and start feeling very nervous. This was because something very strange happened while I was away. The one year I decided to dip out and move to the other side of planet Earth to experience life sans dive bars and rock shows, literally everyone I knew fell in love. They did not just fall into regular love. Nope. They fell madly and deeply in special, perfect love. They were planning to elope. They were planning to fill their wombs withbabies. They were planning on spending the rest of their lives with theirsoul mates. Some of these people had been single for over a decade. It was like there had been some weird cosmic shift and I had missed it. I felt this even more strongly since not only had I been completely and totally out of the game while living in Indo (I would like to take this opportunity to point out that if you think you might enjoy a few days alone in Rome, the most romantic city in the world, sightseeing surrounded by honeymooners, after spending a year with no french kissing in the jungle, you probably won't) , but there was also a disturbing lack of available bachelors hiding underneath my mom's sofa.
Am I a horrible bitch who was begrudging my friends their newfound happiness? No. I firmly believe that everyone should have lots of sex and babies and that people are not meant to live alone with cats or decorate their desks with framed pictures of their dogs. But I did start feeling a little afraid for myself. And I did start feeling like less and less people were laughing or even giggling at my pretty funny stories about failed "romances" and instead began responding with the sort of "Ohs" and "Ahs" that I thought were reserved for stories about brain tumors as if only a year before they hadn't been making out with guys with bad tattoos and drinking problems.
I wish that I could report that I handled my situation with a great amount of grace and positivity. But that would be a lie. Instead, I watched a lot of television (I highly recommend both The Borgias and Bored to Death and to those of you who are a bit more open minded, Gigolos), dedicated a not small portion of each day to feeling sorry for myself, and spent a great deal of time drinking Vanilla Lattes at the local Starbucks wearing mismatched sweat suits. I'm pretty sure I was the victim of some sort of an Old Maid/Midlife Crisis. I was a real Johnny No Fun.
Although I was plagued with visions of dying barren and alone, I still managed to enjoy being on unemployment. Even when I found myself drinking a glass of vino and watching an episode of Gigolos alone on Friday night hoping that nobody would walk in and force me to explain what I was doing, I couldn't help but admit that getting money each week for not working was just as exciting as I always dreamed it would be. I'm really good at being on unemployment because I can effectively fill up an entire day with a yoga class and some cable. I am also good at being on unemployment because I am not prone to existential crises since I determined long ago that if there is some big important meaning of life I am neither smart enough or serious enough to figure out what it is and my sense of self worth is in no way connected to work.
Luckily, my Old Maid/Midlife Crises eventually passed and I was once again able to be a little bit more fun and stopped sending my poor friend Sofia messages that sounded a lot like Morrissey had stolen both my cell phone and my laptop. I decided to try to find another position abroad since I knew that if I spent too much time watching TV alone in my mom's living room I could very possibly become a total weirdo and if I was going to be an Old Maid I'd rather be an Old Maid some place exotic.
Bogota, Colombia
I was originally supposed to head back to Asia, but due to some sort of miracle I got a position in Colombia. I did not just get a position in Colombia, but in Bogota. Therefore, I am heading to a capitol city with things to do and see and will not be forced to split my time between Pizza Hut and the Donut Shop like I was last year. I haven't done too much research since that usually makes me nervous and smacks of planning ahead which I usually shy away from. Since I speak fluent 8th grade Spanish, bought a copy of Lonely Planet, and plan to watch Romancing the Stone at least twice before departing, I'm not too worried.
I take off in a few weeks. I better do some shopping before then since I am pretty sure that the lesbian hobo look I rocked last year in Borneo will not fly in Bogota. Besides, I will also have to turn up the sexy to aid in my search for a hot tamale. This plan might be derailed if every woman in Colombia turns out to look like this:
This is Modern Family's Sofia Vergara who is a native of Baranquilla, Colombia. I'm pretty sure she has never been the victim of an Old Maid Crisis
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Sofia proves to be an exception to the rule or my quest to find a baby daddy in Colombia to help me produce a child that looks like a hot American Apparel Model will be a pretty tough one. Wish me luck!
