Last month, a few friends and I stepped into an old pub we used to frequent when we were younger.

It was almost closing time when we got there, so some of the lights were already on. You could basically see who was too drunk to drive, who desperately needed to go home (read: makeup/wardrobe malfunctions) and who were “on the prowl”. Fun times.

After about 10 minutes, one of my companions – my best friend’s cousin, who’s in his early 20s – eagerly came running to me. Apparently, an old woman just made a pass at him and even showed him some, er, “flesh”.

He pointed at a couple of women who looked, well, let’s just say forty-ish and matronly, dancing about near the bar. “Oh my god, they’re so old, kan? I can’t believe it, they were all over me!” said the boy, laughing histerically.

At that moment I, too, thought it was kinda hilarious and started to laugh a little. Not so much at the women, but at the fact that this silly young guy who still laughs at fart jokes had just been approached by two not-that-hot cougars.

“Oh my god, I think they must be 35!” he continued, still laughing.
I looked at his face, all earnest and child-like, and then laughed hard.

Yes, I guess 35 would be considered old to someone that age. Heck, I used to think that 20 was old. Of course, I was only 10 then…

For many, hitting the big “3-0” is a very big deal. Some make life-affirming changes or at least, the promise to do so, while others start to “seriously” think about the future.

And then there are those who just don’t think it’s that big a deal. Like me.

I celebrated my 30th birthday on a plane heading to Tokyo for a kick-@$$ music assignment. I was so excited about going to Tokyo for the first time and attending a two-day music festival that I really didn’t care about turning 30. It was a non-issue for me, and had always been ever since I turned 25.

I met All-American Rejects on my 30th birthday.

You see, when you’re in your early 20s, you can’t help but have grandiose dreams about your future. You’re in that period of your life where you’re about to step into the “real world” (aka the working world), or just about to finish college and finally be free of parental scrutiny; and you think that everything will come up roses by the time you hit 30.

What most of you don’t realise, though, is that it’s a long, hard road between that future and now, and there is hardly any room for slacking.

Did I just hear a bubble burst?

Lucky for me, I realised all that when I turned 25 – I was soooo not on my way to becoming a millionaire, I was still living in a depressing rented room, I hardly ever got promoted at work (even though by that time I had travelled the world and met loads of celebrities. Yeah, take that.) and I was not getting any skinnier. I figured, why disappoint my future self so? I should just come up with a new set of goals, one that was realistic, attainable and will not make me depressed should I fail any of it.

Today, many years after that making that unofficial list of goals, I am proud to say that I am halfway through it. I have a mortgage, I’ve lost weight (sure, I need to lose loads more but hey, it’s better than nothing!), I have tons of pretty clothes and I have more than 50 pairs of shoes (superficial but if it makes you happy, who cares?), my savings account is looking pretty good, and, well, I am happy.

Sure, I still want to be a millionaire (who doesn’t?) but I’m not exactly working my butt off to see that dream come through. Besides, there’s always the lottery…

Today’s lesson: It’s not nice to make fun of people, but most of us can’t resist it. And, if you make fun of old people, remember that one day, kids will make of you, too. Your time will come.

Ps/ I turn 34 in August.