The death of my beloved minivan (conceptually)

I was a proud minivan driver. It had everything I need and was the very symbol of the suburban life I wanted to be leading. It's got room for my crap, my kids, other folks' kids....I drove it with pride.

Then, my young, handsome friend invited me to my first adult Halloween Party--where I'll get to meet his lovely wife. A party that I'll be attending as a single woman. I was really excited about that--and meeting new people-- single people--with alcohol. Until tonight.

We joked about how he was going to get me both drunk and laid. We had so much fun playing kickball and we almost won...so I was on a high. He was gonna be my pimp. As our kickball game wrapped up he walked me to my van, because apparently there is a whole world of cute, chivalrous men who insist on making sure the ladies get safely to their cars and that they don't have to struggle carrying a net full of kickballs. But they're married.

He joked that the van needs to go...he actually suggested, "a nice Rav 4" (which I will foreverassociate with my mother --eww!). I joked about my Mercedes convertible and we agreed that I couldn't afford that and divorce all in the same year.

As I drove away, it hit me like a brick. I'm not hot dating material. Not even close. I've got bags both figuratively and stuck to my body. I've got kids. I made a choice when I was 17 to stay with one guy. All my eggs in one basket. I never got to explore my wild side. It is not reasonable to expect to date any time soon, much less just get laid, or even just go 'out there'

When You're 32 with two kids it's desperate and pitiful . I cannot reconcile the all the parts of me because being a mom and a professional have to come first. If my kids or my co-workers ever found out that really I'm also sexual--- I have to figure out how to be all of me. I don't have a safe place any more to express that private side.

I wish I could turn back the clock.