Aging Ain’t A Thang

25 Jan

I am not afraid of turning 30. Birthdays have never bothered me (says the 29 year old). This is not because growing old doesn’t scare me. In fact, one of my worst nightmares is being the victim of an elder abuse crime. Imagine being old and feeble and all your friends are dead and some trash-bag home health aide with bad eyebrows and a shitty manicure with dumb designs tries to slap you around in your own home? At that point, I would pray to be taken out via pillow smothering in my sleep, Randle Patrick McMurphy style. Thanks, Chief!

I am 100% positive that this outlook will change when I am 39 going on 40, but for now, I am apparently still young enough to give no fucks about aging. Why waste your youth bitching about your future? It’s not even there yet, and there is enough to complain about in the present as is.

I know that many of my peers do not share the same attitude. Everyone has their own reasons for getting depressed about turning 30. Maybe they already have kids and feel they didn’t cram enough guiltless whoring or drug use into their 20’s. Maybe they don’t have kids, but did too much of both of those things and wish they could re-do their 20’s with a lot less drug-induced serotonin loss/whoring. I, on the other hand, have woken up with enough hangovers to be content with how things have gone so far. I have had a good time, and I actually think the good times get better with age. The older I get the more I stop doing shit I don’t want to do.

Example: Remember the early 20’s, when you are so excited to finally be independent and free and venture out into the city with friends to check out some of the clubs? Well, as a “normal” 20-something, I did this and realized pretty quickly that I didn’t like the club scene. Not only did I hate almost breaking my ankle a number of times while drunkenly attempting Fanuel Hall cobblestone in heels, I also hated standing in lines in freezing weather, paying a cover charge to be participate in fast-paced awkward body movement (“dancing”) in a crowded area where 1 in 3 people within 3 feet is likely a sex offender, holding my pee in bathroom lines, peeing in those bathrooms, waiting at the bar for a drink, ahhh, the list goes on!

Some people are about that life, I mean, we all have those Facebook friends who are nightlife promoters that at first make us feel like losers who don’t go anywhere cool, but later into our 20’s make us feel bad for them because they are now career nightlife promoters. Right?

I decided pretty early on that I am more content in a low-key bar or going out to dinner with a few friends or -my favorite- sitting on my back porch with a couple of girlfriends drinking wine and listening to music. Anything that involves overthinking your ride situation just feels stressful to me. Any place I can’t wear flats and needs to be relentlessly promoted with free-entry offers is probably going to give me anxiety at this point. Does anyone ever really enjoy frequenting an establishment that houses a mechanical bull, unless they are a member of a Bachelorette party visiting Tennessee? Or were we always secretly just gals that wanted to seem more fun, but would have preferred to stay on the party bus when everyone else was being dropped off at the first bar on the list? And yes, if the bus driver didn’t remind me of Ted Bundy, and the bathroom wasn’t out of order (ALWAYS, it was always out of order!), I would have hung back.

I am totally down with being as basic as ever. Such a sucker for Paint Night (especially when the painting class being offered is elephant themed). Early 20’s < Late 20’s. Let’s hope we get even more content in our 30’s. Here’s to not doing things we don’t want to do!


One Response to “Aging Ain’t A Thang”

  1. Felicis January 26, 2017 at 1:39 pm #

    Do you know i had a period wherr i was slightly obsessed with paint nights…..havent done one in a while, but going to one on Sunday…i have also gad a wierd thing about elephants lately. Hmmmm

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