Hello World, My Name Is IsisMature

Last night was another realization of how effing pathetic my life really is.

It was New Year’s Eve, a group of us friends decided to go out for dinner to celebrate. At approximately 11:50pm and our clan was at Port-O-Call Restaurant. The hostess was doing a great job in hyping up the crowd. Our table of 11 had just finished our wonderful lobster and Mahi Mahi feasts and were enjoying our last dessert for the year. Five minutes later the wait staff worked their way around the room filling everyone’s glass with ceremonial champagne as the hostess gave everyone instructions on what to do at the stroke of midnight.

The overly bubbly and very provocatively dressed mistress of ceremonies attempted to set the ambiance by announcing: “This is a special occasion for all of us and we’re gonna bring this New Year in in style. So at the end of the countdown I want you all to grab the one you love and give them the biggest, wettest kiss ever! This is the room for love and I wanna see nothing but steam in the air! After you leave here tonight, I predict some babies will be conceived. Are you all ready? He we go! 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1 HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Now let’s see some tongue!”


Now as I stated earlier our party consisted of 11 people. 6 female and 5 male so who do you think was the odd one out? Yeah… right… exactly….you guessed it…Hello World, My Name is Isis and my life is effing pathetic!

It’s not that I was the odd one out last night. It’s not that everyone was boo-ed up and had someone to kiss while Auld Lang Syne played in the background. It’s not even that I was totally embarrassed when the moment was over and all sympathetic eyes were staring at me (can you say embarrassing?). Now all of that I can handle but the effed up part is…THIS CRAP HAPPENS ALL THE TIME!! And the mess gets more and more ridiculous each year. My name is Isis Simmons, I’m 35 years old, working at a dead end job and most unfortunately, I’m single. Yes single and on my way to Loserville.

Life wasn’t always like this for me. It seems to be and over 30’s disease, caused by your classic case of “Missed the Boat” syndrome.

Yeah that’s right Missed the Boat. See, as it seems we women, especially black women have a small window to have the fairy tale life…therefore we must ensure we jump on the metaphorical boat of marriage when that window is opened, and if we miss it…well …yeah…we are just S.O.L. (Sh*t out of luck), and will spend the majority of our 30’s having unfulfilling sex, hoping that each meaningless sexual/dating experience leads to something that can possibly turn into finding our soul mate. We hope we would be the exception to the rule and meet the man we will fall hopelessly in love with.

Unfortunately, the majority of us ARE THE RULE and will enter into our 40s accepting that we may never marry and possibly never procreate. Yup unfortunately, this is the New Millennium Curse brought on by a vast lack of testosterone and an overwhelmingly overflowing abundance of estrogen.

But like I said, it wasn’t always like that for me. There was a point in time when I couldn’t keep the men off me…I had dates every night and my biggest dilemma was: what shade of lipstick looked good with my new pair of shoes I bought that day.

Yeesss the glorious 20s…dang those where the best years ever….party, party, party every damn night. You would never find my ass home.

My weekend nights started with a party and ended with a bang! 20s weekends.

Nowadays, my weekends start with Netflix and ends with drool and Martin reruns... 30s weekends.

The End

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