SDC turned 30 yesterday and it’s just so strange.

With all the shit we’ve gone through, I’m not so sure we thought we’d ever see him hit 3-0.  When you spent a good portion of high school worrying about where your boyfriend was sleeping (due to frequently getting kicked out of his home), or just counting down the days until you could move away from your incredibly overprotective parents, it helps to put things into perspective.  I never wanted to be popular – even though I was quite the little freaky pre-hipster B-lister – so we never put a lot of thought into the bullshit.  Who cares who is sleeping with whom when you’re dealing with real shit at home?

But as we’ve gotten older, and seen both our bad and good sides of one another, we’ve mellowed.  We’ve always cared much less about the bullshit that people might say on the innertubez (which was always harder for me than him) and more about maintaining real interpersonal relationships with others (which, again, was always harder for me than him).  And now, we both smile on occasion, and feel pretty content when we hang out.

I’d like to think it’s because we both know how far we’ve come, but it might just be that we’ve become old farts.

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