When I was in high school, I spent an entire summer dissecting the dialogue of Richard Linklater's coming-of-age classic "Dazed and Confused." Fast forward a few decades, I caught myself muttering a popular line from the film to colleagues over lunch -- the one that quite arguably kickstarted Matthew McConaughey's career, "I get older, they stay the same age." Unlike McConaughey's character, I wasn't referring to high school girls. I was referring to my network of friends.
I've written about my liberal views on marriage and monogamy; I've dissected the complexities of female friendships; I've even questioned why people are still choosing to procreate. I've concluded that the sum of all these things has contributed to a shrinking set of peers who used to represent a large part of my life.
None of this is news to me, however. I've been very cognizant of my shift in confidants over the past few years as friends get married, move away, start families and quite simply, move on. But is it possible that I'm the last one to leave the party? Am I the proverbial guest who won't go away, even after the booze runs dry and the music has shut off? Maybe it's just time that I grow up, although I'm not so sure I know how.
From the outside, I have the makings of a fully functioning grownup. I have a stable corporate job, I'm married, and I pay my mortgage on time. I haven't vomited due to excess booze, nor have I danced on a table top in quite some time. With the exception of the occasional explicit post on Twitter or trying to pull off leather pants at 34, I would say I've got my shit together. The problem, so it would seem, is that I still want to party -- a lot.
So, what does one do when their social circle begins to migrate towards a more mature existence, like wildebeest majestically making their way across the Serengeti? They begin to attract younger friends, of course. At first, it was subconscious. It was a mere coincidence that my friends were getting younger. But if I really think on it, I can only conclude that I'm attracting people who share the same interests as me, naturally.
Then there are my single friends. Thank God and all that is holy for my single friends. Although, each and every one of them would like to marry, have kids and settle at some point, I can't help but hope that they stay single forever. Admittedly selfish, I'm ultimately grateful that they, along with my 20-something friends, still want to play.
Who knows, maybe I'll end up knocked-up in a year, looking back at these words with utter disgust and embarrassment. It wouldn't be the first time. But for now, I'll continue to hold unofficial open auditions for anyone under 30 who still wants a wing man.
Are you a 30-something who won't hang up your party pants? Or has that ship sailed? Post a comment or shoot me a tweet @urbancowgirl
Follow Heather Magee on Twitter: www.twitter.com/urbancowgirl