Okay – enough is enough. I get that I’m going through a “tri-life” crisis and have started to put myself through ridiculous physical tests to prove that I’m still young and sprite but really… I am only 29 fucking years old. But I have had 2 incidents where young folk have made me feel like I’m old enough to be their grandmother.
I was chatting with a younger guy at my gym. The guy is roughly 24 (if I had to guess) and has recently changed profession. Upon discussing new career, I inquired why he chose that particular profession. He mentioned that he applied to several graduate programs and was denied admittance. I asked if he was going to keep trying for the graduate program and he responded with the following:
I don’t know. I mean – if I do get into a program, I’d be like 25 and that means I wouldn’t graduate until I was like 28… and that is just so old.
Blank stare. Um… wtf? I am clearly older than you! I blinked a few times and finally said, “I want to punch you in the face right now.” Still nothing. He had no clue.
Graduate school already makes me feel old but I generally take comfort in knowing that I’m not the oldest person in my classes. I can guarantee that there is at least one person older than me at all times (and I’m not just talking about the professor). New class, new team. I was chatting with a young dude in my new team as we were leaving class and here is how the conversation went:
Young Dude: So how far are you into the program?
Me: This is actually my last semester.
YD: Wow, really? How many semesters have you been in the program?
Me: 5. I take 2 classes a semester.
YD: Hmm. When did you finish undergrad?
Me: [long pause] 2002.
YD. Oh! Wow. Huh…. [looong pause]. I’m a young buck compared to you.
W.T.F. I mean, do I smell like formaldehyde and Depends?! It turns out this guy is 23. TWENTY-THREE!
As if I didn’t feel bad enough about almost turning 30…
I think I should just give up at this point and trade in my fabulous sunglasses for those crazy oversized blublockers and pinch the cheeks of everyone I know.
I called a friend yesterday to vent about incident 2 and declared that I am getting crunk this weekend, dammit! Although I’m sure I’d be drinking wine or a nice single malt scotch over cheap booze.
God, even in my declaration of whooping it up, I manage to age myself.