I just got back from a week at home with my family who all live in the small towns in the prairies. This means that for a week, whenever I answered “no” to the “do you have a steady boyfriend yet” question, I got the pity look from my aunts. It’s some sort of travesty that I am turning 30 this year and am still alone.

I am happy being alone, so their pity looks don’t bother me at all. I don’t feel old, and I don’t feel that my clock is ticking. Whatever that means.

Yesterday, however, I got my first taste of how old I am perceived to be by others. Some guy from my gym, a regular, approached me. I’ve seen him there a million times before, but apparently, last night was the first time he’s ever seen me (blow #1). He chatted me up for nearly 1/2 an hour between my sets, complimenting my eyes, my form, my shirt, etc. Then, he asks “how old are you?” I tell him, and he blinks twice, and walks away.

…

If the guy looked older than 20, I would have been insulted. Luckily, my ego is bigger than anyone else I know and is pretty much impossible to squash.