Tiki fires burningWe went to a housewarming party in the Hollywood Hills for some of my best friends this weekend. The multi-million dollar home overlooks a parking lot and has no swimming pool; but that’s what a million-five gets you in California these days.

Come to think of it, it’s really more like a million-six if you factor in the price of gas these days, and the mile/gallon of their H2.

At any rate, the friends in question are newly engaged, that being the sort of thing that’s starting to happen in my group. It doesn’t freak me out that they’re getting married or anything, it just freaks me out that that means that I’m of the age to do be doing that sort of thing. I’m not sure what aspect of The Big M has me the most nervous: that I’m of age and not, or that I’m not and don’t feel of age. Which means, when I was 12 I thought I would be married at 25. Now that I’m 28, not only can I not imagine having been married at 25, but I’m barely able to wrap my mind around the idea of being married at 28!

Because I’m such a player, you see.

ADG and I have a good thing going. Hopefully, it will someday lead to more. I feel weird to be approaching 30 without that being nailed down, but I’m fairly sure that that’s a result of the social stigma when I was growing up more than anything else (I think we all thought we’d be married by 23-25). Of my peers, I can only think of 3 or 4 that are now married, and every single one of them came as a bit of a shock. Although, the fact that three of my most recent ex-girlfriends are now currently engaged should probably tell me something about marriage… or something about me.

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