Free-Floating Hostility

Saturday, August 06, 2005

If you Think this is Bad, Wait for my Midlife Crisis

Any day now I will officially become a loser. I'm not at all sure that day didn't pass unremarked some time ago. Really, I'm not just saying this because it's 10:00 on a Saturday night and I'm hanging out with my blog. I'm going to be 25 in about two months, and you know what that means.

Before our over-30 readership takes umbrage, let me explain myself. The point isn't that I'm getting old, it's that I'm about to enter a phase of my life destined to be marked by poseurish lunacy. I've been making fun of loser 25-year-olds my whole life. It's pretty obvious when you're a teenager in Manhattan that ones late twenties are the true "awkward years." It's a regular feature of New York adolescence to spend a certain amount of time with people ten years your senior who, being from someplace outside New York, hang around in the exact same bars you do because they haven't figured out yet that the only reason to go there is lax carding. There's this whole class of late-twentysomethings reclaiming their childhoods every Friday night starting at happy hour because they still can't quite believe their good fortune at being able to drink legally and because they know that 30 is looming at which point this behavior will actually be sad.

I hate these people. I can't decide which are worse. The working kids with the impractical shoes, the business cards and the highlights who hang around trendy bars dropping names to screen potential dates for an acceptable level of hip? The grad students who come sucking around undergraduate bars dressed like Eurotrash who have fallen on hard times and casually referring to The Tao of Physics? It's too, too depressing. My old plan of skipping directly from 24 to 30 doesn't appear to be working very well. That's about to be me.

For a while I thought maybe being married would save me, but if anything I think I'm going to be worse. For one thing, my California friends are like ALL married, and some of them are rapidly generating offspring. We're not even cool enough to run around like self-conscious capri-pant-wearing speed freaks. We sit around studying them, fixing them up on hellish dates and searching our souls for signs of envy. That's the saddest thing I've ever heard.

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