I was reading Kapgar on Friday and the post got me thinking. Was 27/28 a special time for me? A sign that I am getting old, or perhaps I have finally burned out too many brain cells -- I did the math to figure out exactly what year that was.
Age 27 is when I decided that I really didn't want to be a lawyer. Actually, I had decided that prior to that. At 27 I decided to act on it. The hardest decision was not about leaving law school but whether to remain in Virginia. I packed up all of my stuff and moved back to California a few months after my 28th birthday. As I had no job, I moved back into my mother's house. I worked a few temp positions -- four to be exact. The last one turned into a regular position.
Once I had reliable income, I quickly left my mother's house. I have never been a fan of the 'burbs and hightailed it to the Mission. It will always be one of my favorite neighborhoods in San Francisco. And prior to that move, all of my partying efforts were purely amateur. I wonder if I would have ever become the partygirl that I was if I had not made that move. At the height of it all, I was out Wednesday through Sunday nights. And although I could pay for rent, utilities, and food, partying was not necessarily in my budget. Especially at San Francisco prices. So I learned to get to know people who could comp things -- food, drinks. (Sometimes I stop by my old haunts and if one of the bartenders whom I knew from back in those days is around, I know that I will receive a free drink for old times' sake.) I became the consummate flirt, the queen of double entendres. Because nothing makes a man move faster than the possibility of getting into your pants. I had learned at 21 that I had power but I did not fully wield it until those years following my move to the Mission.
One of my partners in crime back then was the receptionist at work. After a bit, we started allowing some of our male co-workers to join us on our evening outs. They were given one instruction -- bring your wallets because we do expect you to buy us stuff. This was after an unfortunate incident after one co-worker arrived early one evening and proceeded to buy all these other women drinks. By the time we arrived at a much more fashionable hour, he was broke. He was cute but not that cute. This same co-worker tried to bad mouth me to one of the payroll clerks after the first night we allowed him to be seen in public with us.
"You should have seen Dagny. Guys would come up to ask her to dance and she would demand that they buy her a drink first. What nerve. She's cute but she's not all that."
"Did they comply with her demands?"
"Then she is all that."
So some may argue that I have inflated sense of self. Much better than the lack of self-esteem that haunted my teen years and led to some rough bouts of depression. And the inflated ego? Well, it was only a matter of time before I came to think of myself as Empress of the Universe. Screw what my mother says. She's just a jealous hater who only wishes that she could woo folks with the same ease that I do.
So bottom line. Yeah, 27/28 -- a pivotal time. And now I'm going to just rest on my laurels until someone else comes along to try to claim the throne. Of course, with the upcoming week off, perhaps I should take action to ensure that the throne is still mine.
On a final note I'd like to call notice to two new commenters. First, there's m. who has some of the most beautiful photos I have ever seen. Then there's Mrs. Mogul who I suspect is an empress in her own right after reading through her posts. Y'all should definitely check them out.