Most days since I turned 25, I feel like Phil Connors. You remember him, the TV weatherman from Pittsburgh in the movie Groundhog Day. Oh how he hated covering that Groundhog Day story. And especially, how much he hated having to relive that day over and over and over…

I sort of feel like that. I pretty much consider myself the same person as I was when I was 25. I still live alone. I’m still single. I have the same job. I have the same friends (at least the ones who haven’t moved away) and we do the same things on weekends. (Wow. That is totally depressing. WHERE’S THE PINT OF ICE CREAM? I think I need to emotionally eat.) I do pretty much look the same. So I guess that’s a positive. But still…

It’s not all bad, I will admit. I can roll all around in my queen-sized bed. I do have more things now. I make more money. I have new skills. (For example, I’ve discovered my incredible pie-making and knitting abilities. Those will serve me well when I go from singleton to assisted living.) But for the most part, the shell of my life is the same. And I feel like I wake up and go through a routine, only to go to sleep and start it all over the next day. And this happens day after day after day. And nothing changes.

It’s like Amy Adams sang in The Muppets...

I’m having a me party
A party by myself
A me party
I don’t need nobody else
I’m having a me party
I’m the first and last to show
There’s no one at this party that I don’t already know

Had I known this would happen (and by the way…I blame internet dating. Boys used to go out and socialize. I met lots of boys that way. They don’t do that anymore. They shop online and hide. And now dating is ruined), I would have tried a little harder to spell ‘yacht’ correctly in the 4th grade. Maybe Cute Neighbor Boy and I could’ve had a life-long relationship. I may also have appreciated Jeff G more. I could’ve taught him how to kiss better. I definitely wouldn’t have broken up with Chris S, the writer of the epic love letter. And I probably would have focused more on my MRS degree in college. But life is funny that way. You live and learn and never get to apply that learning.

So here I am at my Me Party. A party I’ve been attending since I turned 25. It’s been one heck of a party, that’s for sure. There have been lots of down times–some really slow songs that have dragged on. And on and on. But there have also been a few crazy snapshot memories, too. Far too few, but they’ve been there. And I guess one is the new two, and I can’t really complain about the conversation at this Me Party.

But here’s hoping that one of these years I find my beautiful house and it won’t be the same as it ever was. And I’ll dance that last dance at my Me Party, my party just for one.