Becoming an adult.

At what age do we cross over from young adult to authentic adult? Until now, I had always imagined there was some sort of fantasy adult threshold you cross sometime shortly after college and before getting married. However, I am continuously being proven wrong. I assumed after graduating college and entering the “real world” (possibly extending young adult life a little longer until one is reproducing) that women stop creating caddy ‘reality-show-esque’ drama, men forego speaking of how they ‘hit it’, and both parties alike discontinue illicit and illegal drugs, keg stands, beer pong, flip cup, jager bombs, tequila shots and partying until they heave. Don’t get me wrong. Many aspects of my life consist of some of the aforementioned activities… but I am 22 year young and use those as my last little hope of holding on to my youth. And maybe that’s really what it all boils down to. These people that have so recently crushed my delusion of adulthood just want to think they are still young.
I am one to spend time with a melting pot of individuals. We all know I like to talk, am fairly talented at get others to talk and take pleasure in the mere event of socialization. Whether a child, teen, adult or dirty old man, I take it where I can get it. As I mature, I have been integrating an older assembly of friends into my life- that have brought my dreams of adulthood to a screeching halt. I spent some time drinking with friends between the ages of 30 and 35, men I have gotten to know pretty well, some married, some not. They still speak of women (for lack of a better word… obviously not verbatim, nevertheless, I intend to keep the vowel intact) whom- in their glory days I’m sure- they once ‘hooked up with’ or how their single friends ‘hit that’ in Vegas. On another occasion, I sat with a 32 year old friend and discussed the times I ‘experimented’ with marijuana in high school. He then informed me he had a plant of weed growing in his backyard at one point. The backyard of his house. That he owns. That is on a golf course. Really? Really. Another friend, about 35 years old, described how he loved marijuana, cocaine, and above all, ecstasy, but refrained from doing them on a regular basis since he had an addictive personality. Then he proceeded to order another round of jager bombs. Since I am not completely sexist, I have to divulge some of the examples of careless female adults as well. As much as I do not like to expose my own kind, I must not bestow a biased opinion. A 35 year old mother and teacher at a local elementary school recently depicted a night of drinking ‘at the property’ (think back to the keg parties in the woods when we were in high school- bon fire, beer, big trucks- this time with children running around probably pretending they are Nascar drivers) when she was, AND I QUOTE, “shit-faced hammered”. She then advanced upon about her flashing her breasts to her husbands friends, throwing up down the side of her truck and passing out on her lawn (albeit momentarily, the event still occurred). A 40 year old woman I previously worked with created Hills-worthy drama within the office, to the point where she was let go because of it. Hell, the informant of all gossip within Outback-Bonita is one of the oldest employees we have. She knows everything. And disperses it continuously.
Now, as I am far from sheltered, I assumed their would be Van Wilder type men out there that relive their ‘old glory days’ and speak of how many ‘hoes’ they pulled, their pledge class drinking record still hanging at their frat house, and the time they won a beer pong tournament without drinking a single cup. Frankly, I have multiple friends that will end up like this. I also pictured the 40-something, typically blonde, counterfeit-breasted ‘lady’ wearing Forever 21, Charlotte Russe, or my personal favorite, Rave, sliding down her stool at the bar as she slurs discusses the difference between highlights and lowlights. Perhaps a depiction of a family member, this type is not in which I would not socialize among, nor will any of my friends result in. I just never presumed the epidemic would be this prevalent. I just thought ‘growing-up’ happened. Apparently, I am mistaken. And maybe advertising is to blame. Everyone wants to stay young, attractive and sought after. Luckily, I have learned this lesson early enough to not be completely disappointed and prevent myself from this ugly path.

The majority of these events have unfolded within the past six months. Shocked, I digest these stories and begin to ponder. Is this how my life will unravel in my thirties? I know I want to continue to have fun, have girl’s night out, drink martinis during happy hour and have a glass of wine with my fictitious husband before dinner. Will these activities lead me down a reckless path of attempting to clutch on to my youth? I yearn to sip happy hour cocktails and discuss politics; the stock market; and why Roth IRA’s are so beneficial (picture me sitting at the country club with my husband and our close couple friends as our children attend golf and tennis lessons). Does this mean my life will be boring? That I will no longer relate to 20-somethings? Be it if it may, I wish to arrive at the brink of my adult threshold with beauty, class and a dirty martini.