Age of Consent

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking, mainly existential thoughts of little or no use. (Damn you, Kierkegaard!!!) A few weeks ago at Ash's baby shower, I had one of those "holy shit, we're grown-ups" moments. I didn't like it. It gave me the squicks.

Sara, Ash, and I were standing in Ash's parents' kitchen, and rather than talking about the usual stuff (movies, TV, music, juicy gossip about so-and-so,) we were discussing our 401(k) plans, mutual funds, and filing Homestead papers. I know! It's sick, right? Ash was the first to catch on to the absolute ickiness of the discussion and made a comment to that end. We laughed about it, but it stuck with me. Someone, I think it may have been Ash's grandmother, remarked that she'd never seen such young women discussing those kinds of things.

Between the three of us we've mastered the Trifecta of Adulthood: Marriage, House, and Baby. Ash and I are tied; she has the marriage and baby, and I have the house and marriage. Sara has the house. Oh, and a riding lawn mower which, quite frankly, might be a better deal than a husband. At least some days, lol.

Almost two years ago, Sara made the first jump into adulthood when she bought a house. (She was 21-22ish.) A year later and aged 23, I was the second to buy a house and the first to get married. Ash (23) and Ryan married a month later and had Nick six days ago. (I hear the little guy totally rocks, by the way.)

So I don't know. Are we accomplishing the big "adult" hurdles earlier than previous generations? Are we the norm or the exception? Am I disgusted and totally freaked out by the fact that I not only bought but frequently wear (around the house, never in public) a, gulp, Fair Isle hoodie? Did my fist-pumping, Damn-the-Man-screaming, bohemian/emo youth just shoot me the finger and call me a consumer whore before making a mad dash out the nearest door? And why the hell was my youth murmuring something about Project Mayhem and soap?

When I mention these fears/worries to Dave, he tells me I'm overreacting and that this is just life. You get older. Life goes on. Yeah, well, I then have to remind Dave that his outlook is fine for, you know, someone as old as he is. (He tends to make The Face when I remind him of the age difference. Sometimes I point it out just to giggle at The Face, lol.)

Who knows. Dave's probably right. Even so, I'm clinging to the final vestiges of my youth with a death grip. And yeah, I'm totally going to mourn the day I lose the right to check the 18-24 age range box. 25-30? The HORROR!