I reject your suggestion to grow up

brown and white bear plush toy
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*two years ago at a family party*

“I’m serious though,” said my grandmother, side-eyeing all four of her granddaughters at the same time, “One of you has to get married before I die”. Cue awkward silence while my younger sister and our cousins attempted to avoid eye contact with their respective partners.

I looked at my date for that particular family gathering, a wheel of cheese that would have fed a small town for a month. “NOT GOING TO BE ME THEN IS IT HAHAHAHA EVERYONE AMIRITE,” I practically screamed into the conversational abyss. A surprising amount of people looked like they were about to nod in agreement.

Cue awkward silence, broken most likely by my dad saying something hilarious. He always has my back.

*several months later at another family gathering – we like to party apparently*

“Moving abroad, eh?” said the old dude who was apparently a great uncle of some description. “Won’t that be tough on account of all the foreigners?”

I hadn’t even started teaching yet and I was about to school someone. Before I could open my mouth to educate and promptly disown him, he followed up with this absolute banger. “Well I suppose you’ll be alright if you’ve got a nice fella to look after you. Must be engaged by now, no?”

Unfortunately it wasn’t acceptable to say “Bitch WHAT” at this particular event (my other grandmother’s 90th birthday piss up) so instead I pretended I had forgotten how to speak English and wandered off to the gin.

*one year later*

My sister buys a house with her boyfriend. My friend buys a house with her fiancee. I buy another hat.


Peter Pan Syndrome has been rife amongst my generation for some time – thankfully I don’t mean wearing green spandex and hanging out with small boys. Because we’re living longer and, sadly, working for longer, we’ve got more time to enjoy our youth and extend it for as long as possible. This isn’t always viewed as a good thing, but as someone who has always been something of an overgrown child, I am fully in support of living in a state of perpetual adolescence.

It took me an extremely long time to realise that there wasn’t anything wrong with me – when I graduated university, I watched people who had once been the biggest wreckheads on campus getting engaged, moving in with their partners, buying houses, and I wondered aloud why I didn’t want that too. When I ended a four year relationship because I was scared of passing the aforementioned milestones, I panicked that I was abnormal. When I quit my job and became a semi-nomadic little creep, I worried that I was destined to be the oldest dude at the party. Sometimes I am, to be fair, but that’s ok.

The way I see it, we have a huge amount of time to be grown up and responsible. The rush to settle down that our ancestors were faced with is disappearing, or at least being pushed back several years, and I for one think that’s a great thing. We have the luxury now of having the time to discover ourselves, learn exactly who we are and experiment with that – and if we decide we don’t want to settle down in the traditional sense, we’re no longer social pariahs.

I am fast approaching my 28th birthday *vomits uncontrollably* and am single, have no children that I know of, and I own literally one piece of furniture. I consider myself successful but I am not a CEO of anything and I’m making a damn sight less money than I was when I was living the PR gal life in London. Despite the fact that I’ve grown up emotionally an awful lot since I was 21, not a gigantic amount else has changed. I still wear pyjamas as daytime wear. I still don’t really know how to work a washing machine. I became a DJ because I literally did not want the party to end. And I am ridiculously happy.

To be fair, I have excellent role models in my parents who, despite being married and owning a house and doing adult things, still know how to have fun. Like, A LOT of fun. When my mum was my age, when her friends were popping out kids like confetti cannons, she said ‘eff this’ (probably in a more polite manner) and moved to the States. And this was the ‘80s. My point is, my parents taught me to enjoy your youth for as long as possible and that there’s no specified time to do things. Take your time and enjoy being young and ridiculous and focusing on yourself, because once that time is gone, it’s gone.

As someone in my mid-late Twenties , I’m nowhere near doing the responsible thing. I’m not bashing people who are taking this path in life at all, but for me, it’s a long way off. I don’t want a boyfriend, I don’t want to get married, I have no interest in owning properly and the only kids I’m interested in are the ones I can give back to their parents at the end of class. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to settle down in the traditional sense, to be fair, and –  despite protestations from my grandma about impending weddings – I’ve made peace with that.






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