In a funny conversation this morning, a friend told me that his Sunday plans got changed; his Dungeon Master was out of town and his Dungeons and Dragons game had been canceled, so he was just going to play video games all day instead. I had to laugh. What kind of thirty-something utters such a sentence? But then I thought, what am I doing that’s so much more “thirty” than him? Grocery shopping and blogging. So I’m a better thirty-something than he is? What a snob!
Now I feel bad that I judged him, like some sort of thirty-year-old elitist. And now that I think of it, my day sounds a lot “older,” compared to having a laugh with a bunch of friends.
Strangely, I actually like grocery shopping. I find it fun to get a deal and it’s great to come home and see all the pretty produce in the fridge and imagining the meals I’ll make through the week. I love doing errands at Home Depot and coming home to write my blog. I don’t think I would enjoy Dungeons and Dragons on my Sunday afternoon.
I suppose I can say, “To each his own,” but I think it’s something more. I write all the time about the expectations we have and what society expects of thirty-somethings. It turns out, I’m just as bad and I have my own impressions that have led me to judge.
Of all people, I should have known better.
Being thirty is whatever you want it to be and, as I’ve learned, it’s also partly about fighting the expectations and stereotypes that people have of adulthood. I think that breaking these associations is important for everyone who thinks that turning thirty is a crisis. When we see that we can still play games and play house the way we have always wanted, we can see there’s nothing to fear.
I guess I’ll just chalk it up to experience points.