My Weekend in a Time Machine

I’ve heard that when people go through a divorce, they might make some interesting choices to put distance between themselves and the defunct relationship. Some might chop off or dye their hair. Some might gain or lose a ton of weight. Others regress and start acting like teenagers or whatever.


Judging from my weekend, I seem to have creeped into the regression category. I indulged in two things that I haven’t been able to enjoy in years.

1.  Getting high.

Back in high school and college, I smoked pot. OK, fine, I was a pothead. I LOVED it. But once I was done with school and became a grownup, I was kind of over it and rarely touched it anymore. Then, when I turned 25, I started dating Max. For better or for worse, Max is a major rule follower. I mean, jaywalking is a big deal for him. He didn’t drink alcohol until his 21st birthday. Needless to say, my pot smoking days were completely over. (And really, it was fine.)

2. Having an orgasm.

A huge reason why my marriage ended was due to sex. Specifically, we weren’t having any. Max is a great guy, and no sex life meant we became buddies, the best of friends. But, that is not enough to sustain any romantic relationship.

I was completely faithful to Max, which means that orgasms have been devastatingly absent from my life since George W. Bush was president. Now that I’m single again, I’m DYING to hit the sheets, but I’ve promised myself to wait until I’m in a committed relationship. Because, you know, I like to torture myself. Me and my damn morals! [A few weeks later, I bought a vibrator. Why didn't I do that sooner?!]

Backstory – shared.

Now, let’s return to my weekend.

My friend Nora and I decided to have a girls’ weekend. She was stressed from wedding planning and I was stressed from divorce planning, so what heals better than wine, pizza, and reruns of Beverly Hills 90210? How about some pot? Turns out that, yup, that helps. I had even purchased a glass pipe for the occasion. (I used to have a collection of paraphernalia, but that’s all been long since retired.)

Friday night, for the first time in years, we smoked up then giggled endlessly and got the munchies. Our conversation ranged from super serious and deep (though quite possible we made no sense) to utter silliness. It was so much fun to feel that light and carefree. We felt like we were 20 years old, and I guess that was part of the point of the experience.

Saturday night, after going to a fancy dinner and enjoying  multiple glasses of wine, we decided on our walk home that we wanted more pot. So where did we smoke? IN MY [parked] CAR, just like I used to do in high school. I felt like I was going to get grounded!

While Nora and I were being 33-year-old versions of our 20-year-old selves, I was getting text messages from a 25-year-old guy. This kid saw me at a bar a few months ago and has been hung up on me ever since. I’m no supermodel, but this kid sure seems to think I am the hottest thing ever, so far be it from me to correct him. In the brief time I've known the 25-Year-Old, I’ve learned two things from him:

1. 25-year-olds love to whine via text (e.g., "whyyyyyyy," "shuckssss"), and
2. 25-year-olds are otherwise exactly the same as they were eight years ago.

Anyway, he asked me to “watch a movie” on Sunday. (Yes, folks, “watch a movie.” Did I not just say that 25-year-olds are exactly the same as they were in 2005?)

I thought, Kat, do you really want to “watch a movie” with him? At his house? That he shares with two other guys? (Ugh, and really, not one but TWO roommates?!) How sketchy. How 2003 of you.

After all this careful consideration, how did I reply after four glasses of wine? "That should work."

Sunday night, I went over to his house and we watched that movie. I’m pleased to have finally orgasmed under the Obama administration (within the confines of the promise I made to myself). Well done, 25-Year-Old!

What a weekend of tapping back into my pre-Max self! It was fun for a temporary regression.

What unusual or even kinda crazy choices did you make after your divorce? No judgment from me!