With so much on my mind my thoughts ping pong from Ahh, omg I’m moving to the best city in the world to Holy shit I don’t have a job or an apartment lined up yet how the fuck am I going to make it to At least I won’t get fat with all that walking to Huxley’s never encountered rats before and has refused to shit in snow. He’s gonna hate the city to Am I really making this huge of a change at the ripe old age of 31 when everyone around me is either talking marriage, already married, or having babies??
The voices in my head clearly aren’t on the same wavelength. I’ll find a job & apartment. My legs will be nice and toned. Huxley will adjust and yes, per ushe, I find myself going against the grain. It should be known that I am in no rush to have the family, living in the ‘burbs, making dinner every night for my husband kind of lifestyle. Do I want it? Yes. I’ve always wanted kids. I imagine that life and have a movie clip playing in my head of what that entails. Do I want it now? Not in the least. That doesn’t mean I think any differently than those that do. I’m just not ready for that.
I feel like I just started getting into my groove only in the recent few years. There’s a reason why it’s called the quarter life crisis. 20s are all sorts of cray and in the 30s things slow down. Your 20s are spent being insecure and unsure of who you are or what you want, trying to find your place in the world. Life is full of inconsistencies and you do things with a complete disregard of outcomes. You party hard, eat crap, don’t sleep and think fuck it if they fire me, I never liked this job in the first place. You blow your money on shit that has no return on investment. (ROI for those that weren’t in the know). You date guys because they’re hot and hopefully have a job and that’s really all the criteria you need. Shit is in disarray because it’s all you know. But you never question it because everyone else is in the same position you are in and you’re having fun. Living the same life you do but with different jobs and just trying to go with the flow.
Then you start to approach 30. Although time speeds up the bullshit minutiae slows down or completely dissipates. You’ve hopefully, at this point, gotten rid of the toxic people in your life that were good to party with but frankly were shitty people. You know, the ones that you’ve probably heard me say suck at life. Those people also suck life out of you. They’re toxic. Get rid of them if you haven’t already. You start sleeping better and eating better. Your mind is on your financials. Oh shit, this whole time I should’ve taken advantage of those companies offering 401 k matching. Why didn’t I get a FSA back then, it’s pre-tax dollars. How do I not yet have a set tax accountant and financial advisor. What’s the liability and what’s the comprehensive going to cost me on my car insurance.. But also because you ideally have more money you’re able to put quality over quantity. Instead of shit beer all the time you drink superb craft beers. Instead of the jack and cokes you have your choice of good bourbon (W.L. Weller, Buffalo Trace, Whistle Pig, good old Pappy and more) straight up, on the rocks, or even as a cocktail. (Old Fashioneds are my fave). No more fast food 3x a day or “treating” yourself to Chilis. Now you can go to steakhouses for special occasions and yelp $$ – $$$ restaurants weekly. You also graduate from all your furniture being from Ikea to having just a few leftover select pieces that can pass as the good stuff. The stuff that was already put together and delivered straight to your house. Instead of taking a road trip to Tijuana in a 00′ silver honda civic you can pay for an all inclusive resort in Cabo San Lucas. Your group of friends now extends from your main h.s. homies to work people you’ve met along the way and even friends of exes you stole in the break up. Most of the bars you go to are ones at weddings and the only showers you’re caught up in are of soon to be mothers or soon to be wives where most of what you’re making rain is money. Money and love. In being 30 you can opt in and jump on the bandwagon of marathon running, triathlon training, tough mudder obstacles kicking your ass, and what in the most recent year or so made popular that cult called Cross Fit.
A huge kicker for those still checking off single on applications in their 30s is that dating is the fucking pits. The pits. It’s not fun like it used to be. Your criteria has changed from is he hot to revolving around: is he hot, is he really single, is he divorced, does he have kids, if so is there baby mama drama, is he too old, what’s too old, has he been tested for any std’s, is he financially secure (read: does he have a brand name car, does he work at a reputable company, is he living on his own, does he rent or own..) why did him and his ex break up, where does he live, can I do the commute to wear he lives, and the list goes on and on and on. All those things come first then the true quality credentials are asked: is he compassionate, is he funny, how does he treat people (i.e. will he tip wait staff well or be shady and either never tip or leave less than a 16% tip). It’s insane. Dating is a sport to be mastered if single in your 30s. Good luck to the contenders.
But alas, in your 30s you’ve magically started to become more responsible, you now ask the right questions and hopefully you are giving heed to experience rather than the material but doing it in a way that makes you prioritize the need. It’s crazy how responsibility and maturity creeps up on you. Them fuckers just hit you with the 30 stick and said man up bitch, now’s the time.
Back to my point..
That was a really long-winded ramble to what I’m feeling about my readiness for this move. Hopefully you’ve learned something from it. (Again, the acronym for return on investment is ROI. You say it as such, pronouncing each letter R-O-I. Go ahead. Practice. You’re welcome) Because I am in my 30s I know who I am as a person and what I want to make me happy. Maybe even more importantly, I understand what I came from and accept what I’m unable to change. (honestly that probably has less to do with being 30 and more to do with all those hundreds if not thousands of dollars I spent on therapy to do the necessary work of self awareness. There are a shit ton of people I know in their 30s even 40s that don’t know shit from shit about themselves or anything really and are complete assholes. Send them good vibes and positive thoughts now please. The less assholes walking the streets the better #nomoreassholes)
I can genuinely say I’m living my life the way I want to live it and I’m not willing to compromise that yet to fit someone else’s mold esp not society. I’ve traveled 14% of the world. That ain’t shit people! Really. Only 14% of the world. 21 countries and so many cities I can’t keep track of later and it’s only 14% of the world! I’m ambitious. I want to travel to at least 100 countries. I got 79 to go. There are 195 countries in the world. I can make this happen. I’ll just keep on truckin…
I’m 31. That number is so fucking disconcerting. I had such a hard time the year I was 29 because 30 was around the corner. It was a bit of a melodrama. Turning 32 is not any better in that regard. I only have about 4 ish months left. I’m no longer just 30 I’m IN my fucking 30s. It’s not even the age. I’m embracing being in my 30s. I kinda actually love it. It’s the damn number. Our mortality is slapping us in the face and ain’t that about a bitch?! Or maybe it’s because I got a clock that ticks that only half the population can commiserate with. I usually work better under pressure. That kind of pressure is unforgiving. Not only that but I gotta think about shit like freezing my eggs. Say what? It’s true my ob/gyn’s nurse practitioner (that bitch) told me last year that I need to start looking into it now. Wait, hold up. I gotta what now??? Oh, pay monthly rent for storage space so the eggs I already got in me can kick it until I’m ready to raise lil people? I’m pausing for affect. You can’t see it. Just know I am.
I’m uprooting my life at the ripe old age of 31. (Another tidbit: During the early 20th century the life expectancy was 31) I’m ready. I wasn’t equipped with all the tools I needed before (well still lacking thousands, if not millions, of dollars that would really allow me to live the way I want (read: should) to live). I also now have conviction in who I am and can stand by every decision I make and whatever statement I say. My choices in life and my choices in words are no longer callous. I’m sure I’ll be back in Cali once I’m ready to fertilize them eggs and live in the ‘burbs with my financially stable husband. Who doesn’t like personal space and sunshine? But for now, although I’m late in the game, I’m ready for New York and ready to play and rock this shit. Hard.
Besides, I’m a hustler baby, I just want you to know. It ain’t where I been but where I’m ’bout to go…