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cosmolinguistSometimes I’ll hear or see someone talk about or do something that I’ve missed out on doing. It can be anything ranging from getting a degree to having a honeymoon to using a Young Person’s Railcard.
Having missed out on all these things -- sometimes irrevocably, sometimes not, but missing out all the same -- makes me feel very young in some ways. Very... undeveloped, maybe. Unfinished, anyway.
Yet most of my friends are older than me, some of them significantly so: it’s stopped being remarkable long ago that I have friends and crushes in their 40s (though the delight of having a boyfriend in his 40s hasn’t worn off and won’t until he stops grinning when he thinks about how he was 17 when I was born).
When I wonder (out loud anyway) about how they put up with me and my blatant immaturity. My amor et hilaritas fail more easily around people five or ten or fifteen years younger than me than any other single indicator I can think of (except maybe shopping). The gulf between me and the generation raised on the internet seems so much huger than that between me and the age-bracket or two above me.
Having missed out on all these things -- sometimes irrevocably, sometimes not, but missing out all the same -- makes me feel very young in some ways. Very... undeveloped, maybe. Unfinished, anyway.
Yet most of my friends are older than me, some of them significantly so: it’s stopped being remarkable long ago that I have friends and crushes in their 40s (though the delight of having a boyfriend in his 40s hasn’t worn off and won’t until he stops grinning when he thinks about how he was 17 when I was born).
When I wonder (out loud anyway) about how they put up with me and my blatant immaturity. My amor et hilaritas fail more easily around people five or ten or fifteen years younger than me than any other single indicator I can think of (except maybe shopping). The gulf between me and the generation raised on the internet seems so much huger than that between me and the age-bracket or two above me.