Pushing 40
The other day someone rather thoughtlessly tossed off the fact that I'm "pushing 40." I had to laugh, because I couldn't imagine they were talking about me! But of course they were. I turn 40 this October. Tick tick tick, 8 more months of being "in my 30s." (Yes, I know 40 is pedantically the last year of being "in your 30s," just like 2000 was the last year of the 20th century. Suck it, math nerds -- nobody in the real world gives a shit.)
40. It's a weird number. I really enjoyed turned 30, because my understanding was that all the cool shit that was ever going to happen in your life would happen in your 30s. Yeah...it didn't really turn out that way. I'm grateful for my health and a LOT of good things happened in my 30s, but I've also experienced extraordinary loss, tried (and only partially succeeded in) rebooting my life, fought tooth and nail to keep my business running.
40 is for-real midlife time. I mean, I fully expect to die whilst hiking/biking somewhere remote when I'm 110, but the number 40 still carries a lot of potent mortality. When my dad was "pushing 40," I was 15. I remember what it was like to be 15. Now that I'm pushing 40, I have a very clear view on both ends of that equation: I was way more of a douche at 15, and my pushing-40 parents were not nearly the douches I thought they were.
On that note, the possibility of having a kid, or kids, feels like a slowly closing window. I know the rules are different for guys. I get that. I think I'd be a great dad, but at the same time I wonder if putting it off this long means that's really not what I want. And if I get serious about pursuing parenthood, that means pursuing a (much?) younger partner, probably. That carries problems of its own, but I really don't want to screw up some kid's genes because I was having too much fun being untethered.
Pushing 40 means looking around at bars and clubs and feeling paternal toward the girls I would have eagerly chased just five years ago. Do your parents know how much skin you're showing off in that outfit? Don't slouch! I want to ask them if they're keeping up with their homework, or warn them the guy they're with is all wrong for them.
I really, really regret that I didn't have the relationship wisdom I do now, back when I was pushing 30. Oh man the heartache I could have saved myself. But then I wouldn't be me, and I think maybe I'm not so bad.
I regret having regrets. I didn't have regrets 'til I was informed I was pushing 40. I used to pride myself on living without regrets. Now the years are adding up and, slowly, I'm seeing the consequences of many decisions I made with incomplete information.
Pushing 40 is when I started wanting to outright lie about my age. Nobody ever ever guesses I'm 39 when they meet me in person; the very oldest I've ever been pegged is 35-or-so, and more often than not I get a number in the low 30s. So why not just tell them (usually women who care about such things) I'm 35? Why does anyone actually care? For the same reasons I actually care, I guess.
40. It's a weird number. I really enjoyed turned 30, because my understanding was that all the cool shit that was ever going to happen in your life would happen in your 30s. Yeah...it didn't really turn out that way. I'm grateful for my health and a LOT of good things happened in my 30s, but I've also experienced extraordinary loss, tried (and only partially succeeded in) rebooting my life, fought tooth and nail to keep my business running.
40 is for-real midlife time. I mean, I fully expect to die whilst hiking/biking somewhere remote when I'm 110, but the number 40 still carries a lot of potent mortality. When my dad was "pushing 40," I was 15. I remember what it was like to be 15. Now that I'm pushing 40, I have a very clear view on both ends of that equation: I was way more of a douche at 15, and my pushing-40 parents were not nearly the douches I thought they were.
On that note, the possibility of having a kid, or kids, feels like a slowly closing window. I know the rules are different for guys. I get that. I think I'd be a great dad, but at the same time I wonder if putting it off this long means that's really not what I want. And if I get serious about pursuing parenthood, that means pursuing a (much?) younger partner, probably. That carries problems of its own, but I really don't want to screw up some kid's genes because I was having too much fun being untethered.
Pushing 40 means looking around at bars and clubs and feeling paternal toward the girls I would have eagerly chased just five years ago. Do your parents know how much skin you're showing off in that outfit? Don't slouch! I want to ask them if they're keeping up with their homework, or warn them the guy they're with is all wrong for them.
I really, really regret that I didn't have the relationship wisdom I do now, back when I was pushing 30. Oh man the heartache I could have saved myself. But then I wouldn't be me, and I think maybe I'm not so bad.
I regret having regrets. I didn't have regrets 'til I was informed I was pushing 40. I used to pride myself on living without regrets. Now the years are adding up and, slowly, I'm seeing the consequences of many decisions I made with incomplete information.
Pushing 40 is when I started wanting to outright lie about my age. Nobody ever ever guesses I'm 39 when they meet me in person; the very oldest I've ever been pegged is 35-or-so, and more often than not I get a number in the low 30s. So why not just tell them (usually women who care about such things) I'm 35? Why does anyone actually care? For the same reasons I actually care, I guess.