Monday, July 8, 2013

22 VERSUS 32*

*technically, I'm only 31.

For a few weeks now I've been going on full rock out tour to Taylor Swift's song 22.. Set the scene: my windows are down despite the foggy sf weather, my free Just Dance 4 sunglasses are on, and my organic medium roast coffee is JUST kicking in. The music so loud I assume most people think I have a carpool full of teenagers. Nope, just a sad old person trying to recapture my youth. It's bittersweet nostalgia to sing about a time in my life that I look back so incredibly fondly on and know - it's never going to be that way again. It's also shocking to realize there is a 22 year old without ANY perspective on that time in life because she's so deep in it.... but just gets it. It truly was magical and miserable at the same time. It got me thinking about 22 VERSUS 32 and which age wins? It's simple mathematics. See the breakdown below: 

TIE: "It's always a perfect night to dress up like Hipsters".
(Should the H in hipster be capitalized? Seems like a proper prop noun? Whoa I am showing my age card way too soon. Only a 32 year old would care about that, I guess). I remember debating dating a hipster at 22 and it made me gasp out loud upon realizing - HIPSTERS HAVE BEEN AROUND FOR 10 YEARS, GUYS. 10 YEARS. 22 year olds who are hipsters now were 12 when the term started getting traction. That means they were born to be hip. It didn't just happen. Skinny jeans and monocles are always funny to make fun of at any age!

22 WINS: "It feels like one of those nights we wont be sleeping". 

When I was 22 I would play kickball ON A MONDAY and go to the bar until 2am, then get up for work at 8 and be totally fine after a concoction of 1 coffee, 1 diet coke, 2 aleve and 6 text messages to my roommates asking if they could EVEN believe what happened last night? Nowadays, if I even utter the phrase I wont be sleeping it's because I had 2 drinks and got a rude awakening from the BOOZE ROOSTER and woke up at 5am. Just for fun. (If you are a parent the 22 certainly wins because you aren't sleeping because your kid is coocoo for breastcrack).

TIE: "It feels like the perfect night for breakfast at midnight".  Enjoyable at any age, really. Bacon tastes best from the hours of 11pm-11am both on your way to HANGover all the way to HUNGover. It also tastes great sober. Win win for both ages. Although, if I am eating past 10pm I'm probably cranky. Thats a bummer for 32.

32 WINS: "Tonight's the night when we forget about the heartbreak".
Heartbreak at any age can be upsetting but particularly at 22 love letdowns are DEVASTATING. At 22 none of your friends have enough experience to console you so it's basically a huge emotional wreck for everyone involved. At least at 32 you've lived and learned and had your heart broken many times before. It's old hat. Instead of chain smoking then going on a whiskey binge and having multiple one night stands - you look at what went wrong, pick up a self help book, go yoga crazy and finally sign up for - the paid account, this time. Not the cheap-o 22 kind.

32 WINS: "We're happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time". 
While I typically feel confused at all times about the future, I dont feel confused about the present. As humans we inherently are always questioning what's next? Am I enough? However, the paralyzing aspect of WHAT WILL I BE WHEN I GROW UP? when you're actually YOUNG.....I dont miss at all. It's for the birds. I enjoy at least knowing how to fake confidence at 32. The path to success isn't linear and my expectation of what success even means is relative now. As opposed to 22 when I thought success was literal. It could be defined by what other people had. I wouldn't wish the self esteem issues of a 22 year old on anyone, especially someone at 32.

So what's the verdict? You tell me. 


  1. I think you should blog more. Also, if I could look like I did at 22, but be 32, that would be my decision :)

  2. I'm in a better place at 32 than at 22 in mentality, maturity, emotional stability, finances, and geography, but I'd be tempted to trade my left foot for a 22-year-old's metabolism.