My quarter-life crisis

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I used to be really fun. I used to wear top hats to the bar, I once dated a DJ, and shaving my legs was not always saved for special occasions.


I don’t know when it all changed. Until recently, I still thought I was pretty cool. This was proven false a couple days ago when I tried to discuss my birthday plans with some younger friends who then asked me why the heck I was trying to plan my birthday over a month in advance.


Well, I’ll tell you why. I am at a point in my life where I need at least three weeks to mentally prepare to have a night out on the town. I have to face facts. I am not cool anymore.


A couple weeks back I wrote a column about moving out of the student and recent-grad era of my life and it ended up being one of my most popular columns. It seems like tales of getting older is something that students are interested in, perhaps because it’s where most of you are headed in five or so years. Having experienced it, I offer a unique perspective. However, this is not an advice column and when you’re done reading, you’ll understand why.


I’ll start with my most recent uncool moment. On Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend and I had dinner reservations at 3:45 p.m. (yes, you read that correctly), caught a movie at 5:30, and were home by 7:30. We tacked on one more movie at home (How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, my favourite romantic comedy) and then hit the hay. The saddest part about it all is that I loved every moment of it, especially the going to bed early part.


Other recent life highlights include buying a life insurance policy and parting my hair on the opposite side for the first time in 13 years, neither of which is interesting enough to talk about, even though I have plenty to say.


My boyfriend and I have been living together for three weeks, which has brought even more attention to the changes I’ve been going through in my life. We’ve hosted two parties so far — at the first one I had severe hosting anxieties, worrying that nobody was having fun, went out to a nightclub, complained about the loud music, and returned home to bed before midnight. At the second, I was basically the chaperone of my little brother’s birthday party, where one of his friends told me he couldn’t talk about his sexcapades in front of me because I was too “mature.” (And if you think the highlight of moving in with my boyfriend is having my own sexcapade adventures to talk about, you’d be wrong.)


Some things haven’t changed from my young and wild days. Unfortunately, the things that haven’t changed are the things that I always wanted to change when I was cool. I still have heart attack-inducing eating habits and you’ll never catch me working out. I watch more TV than any health professional would ever recommend (if you want to talk Downton Abbey come by the office. It’ll be the highlight of my day). One other thing that hasn’t changed is pulling all-nighters on a weekly basis. The only difference is I used to pull all-nighters to study and party hard, bouncing back with a quick nap and a coffee. Now my all-nighters involve putting a paper together and it takes me three days to recuperate (maybe that’s why I’m always in bed before midnight on the weekends).


Getting old isn’t all bad though. Giving up drunken debauchery, irresponsible spending, and casual flings comes with its perks. For example, a steady relationship, a real apartment (read: not student housing), my own car, a career, and money in my pocket.


My direction in life is not the only one available. Some become eternal students, others can’t hold down a job for more than a couple weeks. The really awful ones are workaholics, yet still find the time to work out, socialize, and be eternally cool.


So if you’re looking for advice on life, don’t look here. But if you’re looking for advice on what to watch next on Netflix, email me, because I have plenty to say about that.


 

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