Saturday is the sixth anniversary of my 26th birthday. That's about how old I feel. I always thought I would age gracefully, embracing my ever-more mature and wiser state. But even at this young age, I can sense that I'll go kicking and screaming into old age. I examine my scalp for grey hairs, wince at the darkening circles under my eyes, and pretend to ignore the one small smile line on the right side of my face. I still battle acne all the time, and yet my skin seems slightly more creased, a little bit weary, not quite as smooth and fresh as it used to be. And things are starting to sag, just a little. Just enough to remind me that they didn't sag before. In this college town, nubile college girls are everywhere, and I am beginning to envy them. I see them scampering between bars in the cold in their tiny dresses and tall heels, and I think Perky bitches. I squandered my youth so. I used to wear semi-revealing clothing to bars, all the time worrying about maintaining my self-respect. I tried to be older than I was, tried to maintain an adult-like aura of responsibility and decorum, and hoped that others would take me as seriously as I took myself. I should have taken advantage of my youth and tried to get away with as much as I could have as a bright young thing. I don't mean sleeping around or showing off the goods to anyone who would look. I mean that I should have been young and fresh and new. Had fewer cares. Thrown more caution to the wind.
Thirty-two is still young. I still have two-thirds of my life ahead of me (yes, I fully intend to live to be 96, at least). There are many good things about 32, like more stability, more money, less drama, the wisdom to know how to make the best use of my talents. But you can't get away with as much in your 30s. If you are single at 23, you are told to go out and make a life for yourself and don't follow convention and don't settle. At 30, if you have done as you are told and are still single, suddenly you are a sad case. Suddenly, you are the old maid who must have something wrong with you, because otherwise you would have settled down by now. That message gets worse every year after 30 that you are still single, and your prospects dwindle by the day. If I had known at 23 that I would be in this predicament now, I would have settled, just a little bit. I would have worked a little harder to find someone to share my life with. Life is better and fuller now than it was at 25, but it don't mean nothing if you're still floating around in the ether, looking for your match.
