“I’m the cool mom that talks about penises.” That’s how I wanted to introduce myself to a new Facebook group that I joined, but I didn’t want to scare off any members. I was invited to said group, which is comprised of “fun, cool Long Island girls in their 20s and 30s,” on Meetup. Because I’m that 38 year old chica that has no friends. Correction: I have no friends who live nearby.
A NYC gal, I moved to Long Island a year ago to be with Boo. Love made me move mountains, and that included packing all my shit from storage and my NYC apartment and moving it into his Nassau County apartment.
I didn’t even think about the distance. I now live about a 30-minute drive from my old neighborhood and a 45-minute drive from Manhattan. When there’s no traffic, which is never. So it’s about an hour each way. Thing is I don’t drive – yet. I don’t have a car – yet. Sure, the Long Island Railroad is convenient, but it stops running at like 1am on a Saturday.
I didn’t think about any of these life changes when Boo was hauling my coffee table through his doorway.
I also didn’t think about my social life and how moving to Long Island would confine me to solitude. I’ve become…a homebody. Boo makes fun of me all of the time. And I remind him time and again THAT I HAVE NO FRIENDS IN THE BURBS. It’s not my fault that the women I meet (and I have met many) can’t deal with my fabulosity! And yes, penis talk.
Besides, it’s hard making female friends later in life – true friends that you trust and bond with. Boo doesn’t get that because all men have to do is say, “how about that game?” and they’re BFF’s for life.
Still, I don’t regret my decision to move in with Boo. Aside from feeling like this almost always:
I really enjoy living in the ‘burbs. I’m close enough to the city to get my fix and I wake up with los pajaritos chirping. It’s a win/win – only Boo has a hopping social life and I always have to trek it via LIRR to Manhattan for a cocktail. And make sure I don’t miss the train back. Talk about a buzz kill!
Now, things have become more complicated. I am a mother. Don’t get me wrong; I still want to sip on Moscow Mules at a trendy bar and dish on relationships (just like I do for a living) with like-minded women. You know, women who won’t clutch their pearls when I say “penis” or “vagina” a thousand times.
But, can I find that out here, or am I just too city, too “urban” for the women on this island?
Only time will tell. Once baby boy and I are settled into a routine I will attend some events courtesy of the “fun, cool Long Island girls in their 20s and 30s.” Here’s hoping they embrace me and my dirty, cool, funny penis talk with open vaginas.