I really didn’t want to be 30 (as most of you already know from me moaning on this very blog). And now the dreaded date is out of the way, I thought I’d draw a line under it – and get some much needed closure – with one final blog.
How do I feel about it?
Not great to be honest; I’m not suicidal, but I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about the situation. Most of the people I spoke to beforehand (the ones who’d already crossed the abyss), said it’s not so bad really: either you’ll feel an enormous sense of relief, or you’ll feel the same as you did before.
Well bollocks to that – it feels dreadful (even one month in).
Maybe it depends on how much you’ve achieved in your life? I just read Fever Pitch by Nick Horny – and he writes about how miserable he was at this stage in his life, and how he was drifting along without any real focus. And look where he is now.
The thing that really galls me most is how young people react to 30-year olds; I am simply not trendy any more. I’m not even considered relevant to anything.
I was sitting on the bus the other day and I was eavesdropping on some young girls sitting in front of me. They were discussing going to some party or something, and one them said “I’m thinking of inviting Robert. I think he’s nearly 30 – but it’s ok – he’s not an idiot…”
Great. So now I’m 30, it’s naturally assumed I must be an idiot by the young people out there.
The final humiliation came yesterday while I was at the counter in Boots. I was being served by some teenage girl, and as she handed me my change she said “There you go, dear…“.
The emphasis was definitely on the word “dear” – as if to say “YOU ARE OLD“. Completely patronising.
Can’t wait till I’m 40.