Dont Giggle

I'm finding a struggle in making my life interpret my dreams. Being infatuated with traditional ideals, yet practicing the modern woman daily. No longer does it seem functional to want to marry and settle down. Families take enormous amounts of time and energy. I don't have time or a want for that and live in an environment where that life plan seems historical and outdated. I have done and seen things that would make my grandparents blush, sorry grandma but no white picket fence. The symbol of the ideal middle-class suburban life, with a family and children, large house and peaceful living. Thoughts of my inability to fit in a box and live to a average standard  can haunt me. I want to be satisfied. I felt that all of these distinguishing quality or characteristic were due to my immaturity but as the years add on it's showing to be my identity. My life experience thus far is full of bad habits, lines being crossed, and unwanted vehement opinions.  

 I have this bad habit of rubbing my eyes. There are times where I start and have to make myself stop  because my eye is red and very irritated. I had an ex that would witness this and started saying I was giving myself chicken eye.  I once asked my friend, if she ever found herself indulging in rubbing her eyes? She very clearly stated, " No, that gives you wrinkles." 
Your eye is very delicate, often compared to a skinless grape. To sit and knead the skin around a skinless grape seems like such a mistake, and yet I don't stop. If eyes are windows to the soul, it could be possible that I am trying to change mine by rubbing. Or so I try to tell myself.
 A few years back I was at a late night birthday party having a few drinks. The house had a pet cat and since I'm allergic I was attempting to not touch my eyes. I failed. Drunk and with chicken eye I headed to the bathroom to wash them out. Although I am honestly not sure about the details of  the next few events and how things came to be, before I knew it I was making out with a casual acquaintance in the bathroom of this party. She was upset and talking about her boobs. She pulled her shirt down and asked me if I found them attractive. They were at least a full d-cup and soft, she was not a girl but a woman. As we were making out she grabbed my hand to touch them. This was not something that I was used to doing and ever thought I would be doing with her. I barely knew her from seeing her around the city. Everything was interrupted by her husband pounding on the bathroom door. We quickly stopped and nothing was said between us before opening up the door. When the door was opened we both just acted like two girls who just peed in front of each other and gossiped. I left not telling a soul about it.
I always found it disgusting when girls would kiss each other in front of a groups of guys. I never did that though I was sometimes encouraged to. We never talked again after that night. She moved away with her husband and has had a baby. The last that I heard was when I walked into the girls bathroom to wash my hands. A  few of her close friends were in there talking about her. She got caught by her husband kissing a girl in the bathroom. I suddenly understood why he looked at me so strangely when we opened the door that night. I smiled to myself as I made sure to wash all the soap off my hands, not wanting to get soap in my eyes when I did the inevitable.