I haven’t been single in quite some time, but I’m sure anyone who has can remember the horrific strings of dates, the bad breakups, and other lackluster interactions with the opposite sex that had you (often with the help of Jim, Jose, Jack, Evan, Captain Morgan, or Stoli) declaring that you were giving it all up forever.
I mean, did I ever tell y’all about The Weeper? Ramen Noodle Trucker? Flaming Face Boy? Greasy Tracksuit? Duuuuuuuuude? Groundhog Date? Motley Pü?
This column would be a book if I did, but suffice it to say that Single Me contemplated the compound idea on the regular on year. It was a bad year, bad enough for my girlfriends and I to nickname the standout bad dates.
At any rate, I feel what these seven women in China are putting down.
I’m hoping (my Chinese is rusty*) that something was lost in the translation, because it starts, “A group of seven girlfriends in southeastern China purchased a dream home as part of their pact to retire and die together in the future.”
It was apparently a joke at first about 10 years ago, but now the seven own a 7,535 square foot house and a flipping plan for who is gonna do what when they all retire together. In this house. Together.
They have already started learning specific individual skills so they can divide the workload when they all retire — and not just things like, “learn to unclog a toilet,” or “someone be in charge of not burning the popcorn.” Because women are planners. We are.
The divvied up knowledge bank tasks include “cooking, growing vegetables, playing instruments, traditional Chinese medicine and so on.”
Want to see more? Check out this story.
* “Rusty” is my shorthand for “I don’t know any Chinese.”
