Maturity

Today marks Subtle's 30th birthday* and his progression to a new phase of adulthood - or at least another version of it. As becomes more obvious as I get older, men don't really progress much past about 14 years of age. Bum and Fart jokes still make them giggle, and computer games and comics are common fodder for a growing contingent of the male population. When he gets together with his friends, as will occur this weekend, I feel like a mother shaking her head at the inane comments that abound and wonder for the fate of the world.

Of course, given the above commentary, one would assume that I must therefore assume some sort of superior role. And often, I think I do. Fart jokes don't make me laugh, and slap-stick humour, that which often proves hilarious to our youth, makes me cringe. But I have to admit to a few "word issues" that I do have. I work in the medical field and strangely, the words that I find difficult to say without giggling are related to work.

Firstly, I can't say "verge" . A part of the anatomy that we often treat is the "anal verge"... so I hear verge, and then my head hears anal - and well, it is all downhill from there. Secondly, I can't say "vault" . Another area we treat is the "vaginal vault"... so I hear vault, and go to vagina, and the giggling starts all over again.**

So I really have to relinquish my high horse, because it seems that while my infantile husband might like fart and bum jokes, it appears that I am only one step removed from liking them myself.





* Happy Birthday my darling man!

**The other words I have trouble with are not related to work. But I think it doesn't take much to work out why I have difficulty with "snatch" and "fingering".

Many happy returns of the day...

Yet another birthday passes me today, and I can't say that it has been particularly memorable. One card from my parents and a couple of text messages seems to be the sum total of well-wishes. Probably about the best that a middle aged single woman can expect these days!

I had two dates over the weekend with men from the dating agency. As a birthday treat, I suppose I had hoped that maybe one of them might be a suitable match. Unfortunately, Gent #1 seemed only able to talk about his three children, and Gent #2 thought I some sort of freak when I declared my dislike of attending weddings. He felt it a great honour to attend a wedding, whereas I find most are quite tedious. Bad food, bad music and atrocious speeches, plus the fact that invariably I know few people there except for the Bride and Groom, whom I will not see for the entire night. (Can you tell I have another wedding to go to this weekend? My third in six months!)

Strangely I thought Gent #2 was nice enough, but on meeting him, I realised why he was probably single - if one can pin-point a reason. Middle-aged, balding, primary school teacher, whose manner was decidedly gay. Of course, as one friend pointed out, if he was actually gay, he and I would have got on much better!