By Holly A. Phillips — @OrangeJulius7
I turned 30 last week.
I’ve never been big on celebrating my birthday. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a little shy at times, or because having a birthday so close to the Fourth of July made parties as a kid nearly impossible (everyone was always out-of-town).
I never thought age would bother me—it’s just a number, after all. But since my 25th birthday, each year the number has bothered me more and more.
I thought I’d be married with kids by now. Is single “OK” at 30?
For my 26th birthday, I flew to Chicago to meet up with my best friend. I was in an on-off relationship with a guy who, looking back on it, really treated me poorly. Now he’s married to one of the women he cheated on me with.
During my layover in Houston, I got drunk and missed my connecting flight as I was chatting with a cute guy. He was on the same flight heading to Chicago, and when we tried to get on a new one, the airline told us we were stuck until the next morning.
So, I did exactly what you’re not supposed to do in this situation and hopped in a cab with a perfect stranger.
We went to a bar, played darts, and took birthday shots. My flight was at 6 a.m. the next morning.
He offered his place for me to sleep, and said he’d take me to the airport.
I had no luggage, so he let me borrow his phone charger, a shirt to sleep in, and we ended up hooking up.
While I would never recommend doing that to anyone, I was starting to wonder if my now-30 self would ever be that spontaneous and daring.
I was certain I would not. I find myself getting less excited over potential boyfriends, and I do a lot of telling myself that it’s going to be OK even if I never get married.
But, then my 30th birthday happened.
My friend stuck with tradition and offered to take me to dinner. We went to City Pork Brasserie & Bar, where we had wine and a Grand Board (the salmon pate is delicious). We closed down the place, bought the kitchen a six-pack, and were ready to hit the town.
Next, we went to Pelican House, where we met a slew of pretty cute guys and drank too many beers. And somehow, we ended up at The Penthouse Club around 1 a.m. with said guys.
Naturally, my friend got a stack of dollars, and we proceeded to give the Penthouse ladies some love.
Being that it was my birthday, I got a lap dance and ended up in a private room with Lauren, from New Orleans.
She got most of my dollars.
Just when I thought turning 30 meant giving up my fun card, I had a night like that.
Sure, I felt like absolute crap the next day, but it was completely worth it.
Age is all about what you make it.
At 30, I’m starting to see the world really is my oyster. I’ve got options—sometimes too many—and I can basically do whatever I want. Even if it means lounging at The Penthouse Club on a Thursday night.
Read more about being single and 30 on Holly’s blog, TheBitterLemon.com.