Remember that show “thirtysomething“? It was on ABC during the approximate 4-year span when I was finishing up a triumphant run in Junior High and transitioning to my freshman year of high school, where the low moments, like when my mom busted me at a party of a friend who was the daughter of a congressman with a beer can in my hand, were juxtaposed with the high: crush on a cute, perfectly short-heighted senior boy who made me an REM mix tape for Valentine’s.
I distinctly remember at the time thinking the show looked horrifying, boring, terrible, and about really old people. The idea of watching it was on par with a double-bill of M*A*S*H and Murder She Wrote, and I wanted none of it.
Now I realize that that show is my current life. Minus the hairstyles. I wouldn’t have ordinarily realized it so quickly- even with all the friends with babies and fact that I would rather watch tv and go to sleep on a weekend night than do almost anything else- had it not been for my cousins’ Facebook profiles.
So through marriage, my stepmom’s nieces and nephews have become my cousins. They are all awesome good people, spanning an age range from toddler to college, and I am grateful to now call them family. And slowly but surely, they have been “adding” me to their Facebook accounts.
I was looking at one of their pages the other day, and saw that this particular cousin was born in 1991. What? Is that possible? Were human people born that year? My brain is trying to process all this. In 1991 I was wearing Vuarnet shorts and a Benetton t-shirt and getting psyched when Tesla’s “Signs” video came on MTV.
When I told one of the cousins, high-school aged, I even had a Facebook page, she laughed hard in that accidental but total disbelief kind of way. But now they are all willing to connect with me: them and all 7,482 of their “closest” friends, their admissions of hating books and loving illicitly-procured alcohol, their scandalous photos and ‘Hotness’ ratings, appreciation for Ne-Yo, Young Jeezy and too much mascara, their praises to 40-ounce drinks, proms, Uggs and flip cup.
So basically I think I’ll get the DVD box-set of thirtysomething and hunker down for the weekend. But my cousins’ secrets are safe with me. I’m not THAT old.