Welcome to Throwback Thursday, a new feature where I will comb the annals of Abby for interesting journal entries to share with you. Each Thursday, I will look up what I wrote around that date in previous years. Today’s excerpts, dated a decade apart, reflect an obsession with pair-bonding that is honestly quite embarrassing:
November 16, 1999 (age 22)
Plan A Charles still loves me. We get married, have kids, and live a happy life together.
Charles breaks up with me. I get a cat and name it “Boobookitty.” Then I find someone else to marry.
Plan C (a modification of Plan B if Plan B goes awry)
Boobookitty and I live a fascinating life. I date and sleep with whomever I want. Get a Ph.D. in something-or-other. Go to lots of concerts and cultural events. Travel around the world. Maybe join the Peace Corps or something. Then find someone to marry.
Plan D (if marriage still hasn’t happened yet)
Boobookitty and I, both still single, buy a big house and take in all kinds of stray animals and children. We raise money for charities. Get married(?)
Plan E (if I’m 35, and still not married)
Ask a gay friend to donate some sperm so I can have a baby.
November 4, 2009 (age 32)
I’ve sunk to a new low. I went to the vending machine in the faculty room and on the shelf of “free-for-all” books was a Brides magazine. I looked around and no one was there, so I took it. I kept it hidden in a stack of papers and then shoved it in my computer bag so I could moon over it in private at home, whenever G’s not there. I have to admit, I thought of opening it right there at my desk, and when I did, I felt a burst of shameful excitement akin to what a 12-year-old must feel in the split second between typing “big fat titties” and clicking the search button. I shouldn’t do this. But I can. No one’s looking. I can just curl up in a corner and revel in titties, titties, titties! (Or, in my case, flowers, cakes, and gowns! A cornucopia of nuptial paraphernalia!)
The vending machine ate my money and did not give me animal crackers in return.