What a strange age this is to be single. I sometimes feel as though I live a life that is the exact opposite of what it should be. Most of my contemporaries are married, career driven parents with mostly quiet, settled lives. I am anything but that. Standing in a bar the other night with several 20-something friends, I couldn't help but be reminded of the arc my life has taken. There are things I know that my younger single friends have yet to learn; but may never actually learn because they are too busy feeling sorry for themselves for the things they assume they should have, but don't.
I'm old enough to date 50 year olds; without them being considered dirty old men and young enough to date 25 year olds, without attracting attention. I'm old enough to see many of the guys I once dated get divorced, lose their hair, look old, and thank God I wasn't the one they married.
I'm young enough to still dream about a traditional future with the husband, the perfect house, and the perfect life, but old enough to know better than to believe it could happen. Young enough to pass for 20-something, sometimes, but old enough to be scared to death and dreading that 40th birthday alone.
I'm young enough to daydream about having that 25 year old's baby, while old enough to no longer fantasize about the changes a baby brings. Young enough to wish I had more in my life, but old enough to not be jealous or envious of what I thought I wanted because others had it. Especially now that I realize those things didn't make them any happier than I am now.
30-something is a blessing and curse, that perfect age when you can still feel your youth, but are forced to accept the fact that it's fleeting. If youth is wasted on the young, 30-something is that age when you rush like hell to get the most out of how much of it is left. The middle ages, long before you become middle aged.
