If you’re in your twenties, you’re not old, no matter how often you claim to feel that way when a song from your childhood pops up on the radio. That said, growing old isn’t something that happens overnight, and evidence that you’re well on your way to that stage can intrude into your lifestyle without warning. One minute, you’re in college, throwing the kind of party that would earn the approval of a rock star, the next minute, you’re adding the local soft rock station to your radio presets.
Yes, as much as we may wish to stay young and irresponsible forever, we can’t stop time from treating us the same way it did our parents. You start to realize this when. . .
Your Hangovers Are Much Worse
As an undergrad, you probably indulged in, let’s say, “excessive” drinking. We can’t recommend that behavior, but we can’t pretend that it doesn’t happen. Your body may not have felt great the morning after such activities, but it was nothing a few cups of coffee and a buffet of dining hall breakfast food couldn’t fix.
Flash-forward just a few years, though, and you’ll find that your hangovers are the kind of day-ruining ordeals that prevent you from doing much more than lying in bed and cursing your own existence. You had your fun, but after a certain amount of time, your body wasn’t going to let it slide without some severe punishment.
Not that it matters that much, because. . .
You Don’t Want To Go Out
If you partied in college, you probably didn’t do so inconsistently. You either avoided that type of social life, or you joined in every chance you got. The nights you decided not to go out were the nights all your friends started to worry about you. Staying in and watching TV when you could be filling up on cheap, terrible beer? Surely something must be wrong.
As you settle into your adult lifestyle, though, you’ll certainly stop going out as frequently as you did in college, and, more shockingly, you’ll elect to stay at home even on days when it is practically your national duty to go out. Young you would never, ever allow yourself to spend a New Year’s Eve on the couch, but now, you’ve found yourself barely able to stay awake until midnight.
Your Conversations Will Be Boring
When you were young, your conversations may not have been interesting – though we’re willing to bet they seemed that way at the time – but at least they weren’t filled with the types of bizarre words you associate with maturity. We’re talking insurance plans, mortgages, wedding ideas.
When you start to get old, though, you’ll come to realize that, more often than not, a gathering of you and your friends often results in discussions of the merits of renting vs. buying, the types of health coverage you all have, and various other topics that would depress the hell out of your younger self.
As soon as one of you mentions having kids, you know it’s all over.
A Fun Weekend Involves Shopping For Furnishings
When you’re old enough to have your own place, you want to decorate it a little differently than you did your dorm room. That beer pong poster seems out of place now.
As a result, you and your significant other decide to spend a weekend shopping around for furniture, decorations, and cute salt-and-pepper shakers that could make for a conversation piece at parties. Because, again, boring conversations.
Subjecting yourself to this is bad enough as it is, a sure sign that you’re becoming boring. What’s worse, though, is when you realize that such trips make for the most fun weekend you’ve had in a long time. Somehow, you’ve decided that this indescribably dull activity is actually stimulating enough to put a smile on your face.
Speaking of which. . .
Farmers Markets
Farmers markets exist so you can buy groceries outside. That’s it. Aside from the occasional wine tasting kiosk sandwiched between “Ted’s Famous Turnips” and “Kyle’s Locally-Sourced Kale,” it’s a supermarket with a bug problem.
And when you start to get old, you love the hell out of that place. You eagerly await the announcement of the farmers market schedule in your area, making sure that you set aside several Saturday afternoons each spring and summer so you can indulge in the fact that you will never have real fun ever again.
Because that’s what being old is all about, apparently.
