When I'm no longer young and beautiful.

Holly here.

I remember when Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey first came out. I hated it. In fact, I loathed it so much that I texted Heather to make sure my seething hatred wasn't misplaced. Per our sister standards, she validated my intolerance and, having received approval from my younger, yet wiser-on-all-things-pop-culture sister, I made every attempt to disregard it entirely...

However, much like the underlying sentiment of the song, it continued to stick around.

It first gained a nod of approval from me when I saw a Facebook post from a Disney friend stating that it's the song every princess sings to casting on re-look day. Bah! Bahaha! Do you get it? Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? It's funny, right?


However, I still didn't appreciate the song until I watched Gatsby and I felt the song permeate my very core. It suddenly resonated with me on a level that it had yet to achieve during it's constant iterations on American Top 40. The song isn't simply a question of tolerance when one gets crows feet and laugh lines, it's a lament to time gone by...it's an acknowledgement that we change and a desperate plea to be there when all the good is gone.

That's when I downloaded the song....and I play it regularly. It speaks to me for the myriad of reasons listed above and also because I worry...I worry that I'm not pretty enough. I worry that any man I might start to date now missed me during my glory days. I worry that my desirability has greatly decreased...and I thought the song and I were done...that we had effectively communicated....until this past week.

Last week I had the immense pleasure, dare I say, exquisite journey of joining my very favorite sorority at JMU for formal recruitment as their Special Recruitment Consultant. I'm going to skip lots of the details and just dive into the fact that I stayed in a sorority house, with precious girls, and I didn't respond to e-mails, and I ate pizza and Jimmy Johns for every meal and I slept a combined total of 7 hours over a four day period.

And I listened to them fight with the boyfriends, talk about their boyfriends, curse at their boyfriends, make-up with their boyfriends, love their boyfriends, and talk about life-long plans with their boyfriends.

And I felt sucker punched.

I know why the song still resonates with me...it's not about the smile lines that I spend hours trying to cover or the jean sizes to which I may never return...I miss being young enough to love like that.

I found myself responding to their situations with such bitterness - such adultness.... Oh, your boyfriend is upset that you've been at recruitment all week? He realizes that he doesn't own you, right? Like, he gets that, yeah? Cuz if not, you should spell that out...Oh, your boyfriend took a picture with another girl at a party last night? Suck it up, buttercup! If he wants her, then let him have her! Oh, I'm sorry, your boyfriend wants you to go out for ice cream at 2 friggin a.m.?! Does he not realize that recruitment starts in 6 hours?!

*sigh*

I was with it all week and I can barely remember how it feels. I can only slightly recall how it feels to want to plan my day around someone else, to want to spend time with someone else, to value the input of someone else, to think someone else was worth altering the life I've worked so hard to build...on my own...doing what I want...when I want...

It's barely there...but it's there....and those were good times, folks. They were magnificent times.

Maybe this is a good thing...as I mentioned on our first blog, I'm not sure I want this. I'm not sure I want to be dated, married, attached...remembering the good stuff sure does make that seem like a better idea...but at the same time...it makes the rejection over the last 6 months seems all the more personal. I mean, it's obviously personal if I'm calling it rejection...matches with no conversations, conversations with no action, no action with, in a few cases, blatant disrespect.

But then again, I can sympathize with them. I want someone who would want to date spontaneous Holly...the "let's go get ice cream at 2 a.m." rather than the "we have responsibilities and expectations and no time for this foolishness." I want him to love crazily so why can't I? It's just hard....it's hard because my lack of youth has led to being jaded...cynical...untrusting...and it turns out, I don't worry as much about the loss of physical characteristics but my goodness, I fear the complete loss of being young.


Hi everyone,

Heather here. This post feels heavy and I'm not a fan, but it's the reality of this journey. I can't even find a funny meme to throw in here to lighten the mood.

I don't know how to follow that, but I can echo some of the sentiments Holly provided. I've thought about how impossible it must be to try and date someone as cynical as myself. I recognize that I go into most dates looking for the ways that it isn't going to work out. I wasn't always this way. I was once capable of being "love-struck" or "twitter-pated", though I don't see that ever being a reality for myself again. I didn't always go into a date overanalyzing all of the details of the arrangement or the person at the other end of the table. I didn't always go on the defensive at every person who tried to pursue me.

However, I won't exactly apologize for being that way now. Years of dating and spending time in relationships that were unfaithful, uninspired, and disrespectful have created the "don't-mess-with-me" monster that I am. If I didn't come out of those situations less likely to expose myself to that pain, then what did I learn? I don't mean that I'm a bitter old hag, and I don't mean that my "friends" are validated when they comment about how my standards are too high or that my walls are impossible to broach. I just mean that I now operate from a place of self-preservation and rarely find someone who I deem worthy of lessening my grasp on self-preservation. If that means I'm alone forever, so be it. I talked it over with my dog, and he's fine with it. If that means I meet someone who is okay with me proceeding through a relationship slowly, cautiously, and with my defensive battle armor (including chainmail..because..i mean..chainmail has to be included in this visual..) on, then so be it. I think my dog will be okay with that, too.

I disagree with Holly on one thing, though. Lana Del Rey's "Young and Beautiful" will never win me over.

Disclaimer: This isn't a pity party, though it definitely seems bleak, huh? This isn't a post to fish for compliments or comments about how "one day you'll find him!" or "you still have great years ahead of you to share with someone!" This is just a reality post about where we are right now.

Also, don't worry, folks. I've still got stories of crazies for y'all. I just haven't had time to write it out yet.