Internet, I went roller skating last night. I stopped going roller skating in probably the sixth or seventh grade, and I assumed that everyone else did, too; that skating rinks are populated entirely by new rounds of 11-year-olds. But this is so very much not true. Last night was adult-only skate and those people were nearly all people who had just kept skating every week, spending countless Thursday nights speeding around and around to Top 40 hits. I am completely in love with them; in several different parallel universes, those are my people. The woman in the high-waisted mom jeans and poodle haircut? All of those people skating a line-dance? That lady in white jeans and a high ponytail? Totally my people.
I can't skate very fast, but I didn't fall down at all, so I consider the evening a triumph. Roller skating as an adult is a lot more fun than it was in the 5th grade, which was when I went most often. Back then we'd gather a group of girls and go to the "all-night" skate, which lasted until about 2 am. We'd all tell our parents that we were spending the night at Becky's, since her mom was always gone, and then put on our best short shorts and tank tops and go looking for boys. It always took a couple of rounds to work up the courage, but my friends were bold and eventually we would join a group of 7th or 8th grade boys who were usually drinking rum out of a red coke cup. At some point Becky would go off to breathe heavily in a corner with one of them and I would sit awkwardly on the outside of the rest of the group until it was time to go home. And then when we got back to her trailer Becky's sister's boyfriend would tell us scary stories about Cabbage Patch dolls until we all fell asleep in a heap.
Last night was fraught with much less angst and much more delight, and a complete lack of awkward pawing in dark corners.
(PS,
I hate you, Seattle housing market.)
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