I’m not sure when it happened, but it is a question that has been playing in my head for the past couple of weeks. It doesn’t stop me from sleeping at night (at least, not yet), but it does pop in my brains suddenly, without a reason for it, and it just lingers there, never really sinking in, but never completely leaving either. The question is fairly simple, and it is one that everyone asks themselves at some point (or various points, in fact) during their life. It is, also, an unanswered question, mainly because such answer is technically impossible.
When did we stop being young? When did shifted from carefree youngsters to adults? I’m not old, I know I’m not, but certain factors, or things if you want, that have happened around me in the last year or so just prove my point that I might not be as young as I originally thought I was, or that in fact I wanted to be. To start with, my friends are starting to get married. And I don’t mean some of my British friends or work colleagues who find the idea of getting married at 24 or 25 absolutely fine (what is that all about?), but my Spanish ones, who always said that marriage was either not for them, or wouldn’t happen till their mid 30s… Then there are the people, my age, who are having babies. I know, clock ticking etc, but I haven’t decided so many things in life, that the idea of caring for another human being without knowing how to care for myself is beyond my comprehension.
We also have those who are buying flats. It is a fantastic investment (even more in this time of credit crunch and economic uncertainty), but my head works pretty straightforward where, if you buy a flat, it is because you want to live there, in that flat, in that city, in that country, for at least a long period of time, if not for ever.
But I think that, above all this reasons (which part of me even understands, or sees slightly normal), the one thing that really ticked my box, the one ‘happening’ that prompted me to write this blog post is what happened last Saturday night. In a nutshell, bunch of friends (all around the same age) and me went out for some drinks and a boogie, and someone in the group ended up chatting this (obviously younger) boy. Turned this particular boy was only 20, and my friend felt compelled to lie about his age. When did we start lying about our age? We are not even 30, and I’m not saying that such age is the point where lying becomes the thing to do, but when you’re in your mid or late 20s, is it really necessary to lie about how old we are? What it’s even more illogical is the fact that my friend, not only lied about being younger, but that he only said he was a year younger that he really is. So now, apparently, we say we are 26. not 27, but 26. is that the crossing line? 26, young, pretty, athletic; 27 old, saggy and wrinkly? I know we use creams to look younger, or to hide some of our imperfections but, honestly, is it time to lie? Thing is, it appears so, since both my friend and his boy went out their separate ways, one thinking ‘oh my how young he is’, the other one, (presumably) ‘wow, he’s a grandpa’. That did not stop them from a snogging session in the dance floor, though. No idea if that was before or after the age exchange.
So, end of post, and time to reflect. Are we not young anymore? Have we burned our young years already? Is it time to settle down? I honestly don’t know. But I hope not, I don’t want to think that I am not young anymore. I want to still make many mistakes and blame it on this idea that since I’m young, I’m still learning. I want to decide things based on the fact that there is plenty of time ahead of me. I want to make a fool of myself and let people thing ‘how cute, he’s young’ rather than ‘how sad, he doesn’t realize he is far too old?’
Then again, I might just be in denial, and fooling myself. But it feels so good.
My friend (and boss) turned 30 today, and people jokingly asked her if he was going to grow up. She replied (as she should) “no”.
I think we can always be young in our heads. I think we all pretend to go about being adults in our day to day lives, but really – if you bought a flat today you’d still go “faaark, I just spent a shitload of money today” in your head, and probably skip around like you’d just had your first kiss.
As children playing “adults” we exhibit adult-like behaviour, but I really don’t think our brains and attitudes age as fast as our bodies do. I’ve been a specialist in my field for over 12 years and I still wonder why anyone pays any attention to me, let alone pays me!
I’m still carefree, I don’t care what any 20yo thinks of me – maybe that’s part of being carefree
you has never been younger than you are now. Be happy
Hey Marc, I have to agree, with age comes carefree-ness! I think that is the best thing of growing old (not growing up!). We can still be kiddos at heart, even if our age (and some of our wrinkles) give away some information we would like to keep to ourselves! And don’t they say 50 is the new 40? We got a loooong way to become 60 then! Huzzah! (ps, thanks for the comment!)
Hey, this sounded completely like Sex and the City