Don’t worry, some things never change — the partying ’til dawn, the screaming fights with lovers, the breakups that ruined your life (or so you thought), the pizza at 4 a.m. that never materialized. Then again, some things will never be the same. Say goodbye to all of that, and hello to all of this. Here are 10 major differences between your 20s and 30s.
Age 23: shots every 30 minutes. Isn’t that how it used to go? And after five or so, they went down like water. And the dance moves got more confident while never once showing improvement. Oh shots, I love you! Age 30: get that thing away from me, please! No, I can’t take just one shot, I have to wake up in 11 hours. No, I’m allergic to agave, to sour mash, to vodka..sorry…
Age 20: Oh my life, I’ve been upchucking for 10 hours, I had 13 shots and a pitcher last night. Give me some Gatorade, let me sleep all day. I’m never drinking again. I can’t hear or see you…can you press 9-1 on the phone, and then when it gets really bad, press 1 again please? Age 30: Pretty much the same, except substitute shots and pitcher with two glasses of pinot noir.
Age 23: I’m a waiter, I make $70 a night, everything’s great, I’m moving into my own first apartment, I can pay the bills and then some…and I can work on my career as a burgeoning short fiction-writing sensation! Age 30: I’m a waiter, I make $65 a night, my one-bedroom (because I’ll be damned if I’ll live with anyone else) is $1,250 a month, I haven’t ever had a short story published…and I’m a 30-year-old who brings drinks to people on a tray.
Age 25: I love him, so much. We will never be apart. He’s perfect, I’ve already dropped the “L” word (he was asleep and drunk, but it permeated into his dreams where I was already a character anyways), when we fight my heart dissolves, but we barely ever do, because no healthy couples ever fight. Age 30: I’m so surprised we’ve been together for more than two months. After eight relationships between age 25 and 29, he might actually be the one…
Age 23: That’s it. My life is over. Somebody hand me a bottle of aspirin, three razor blades, and a map to the Brooklyn Bridge. I’m going to do a little dance variation with all three. There’s no hope now. Age 30: Sigh. Looks at fingernails. Turns the page. Next!
Age 21: We will neeeever be apart! OK, I’m going home now (8 a.m. after a long night together), but call me and we’ll do lunch! And then think about what double feature we should see! Can I sleep at your pad tonight? The trains stop running at 2 a.m. Love youz! Age 30: Hey, so…I miss you, girl! Sorry we never email anymore! How many months pregnant are you now? It’s a boy, right? Or a girl…can’t remember. BFFs forever, love youz!!
Age 22: I’ll take two quarter pounders with cheese, jumbo fries, a large Coke. No, make that medium, I had a large for breakfast. I never eat fruit or vegetables. Why? So overrated. I work out two days a week for an hour total. Look at me! I don’t even need to go to the gym! Age 30: Ugggh! This egg white omelet with a side of braised spinach is just so…delicious. At least my bread is made entirely from quinoa, gluten free and protein rich! My thighs are flabby, I wonder why? I can’t afford a gym membership, I’m a 30-year-old waiter.
Age 26: It’s cool, I’m still figuring it out. I think next year, before I actually use my double bachelor’s degree in urban development and 16th century Middle English poetry, I’ll backpack around Pakistan for eight months. It’s fine, I’ve saved up $500. Age 30: Yep, I just broke up with my girlfriend, I hate my job as a waiter, so I’m going back to Pakistan. Things were better there, anyway. I can get a job as a dog groomer there, easy.
Age 21: Ew, I could never be with someone who weighed more than 110 pounds. Ew, he has a gap in his front teeth. Gross, she had a pimple. He didn’t win Male Gymnast Body of the Year 2014? Then he’s fat, I’m not touching him. Age 30: You got steady income over 15 grand a year? You’ll do.
Age 20: Every single problem, especially this paper cut, is an indication that I’m an absolute failure. I will never make it anywhere. Age 30: I haven’t become a serial killer, never done the wheelbarrow with my cat’s back legs, and everything’s gonna be OK. (Breathe, breathe)!