I am expecting a wrinkle to pop up on my face anytime now. I
turn 30 soon and things are expect to take a turn for the worse. Apparently the
number- 30- is magical and between my birthday and the next day, women will start
driving in Saudi Arabia, the earth will get a new moon and someone might
actually date Mallika or atleast understand her accent. Or maybe all this won’t
happen considering the next day is a Sunday and people are really lazy on that
day. As opposed to, let’s say, other days.
Here’s a bunch of advice people gave me before I turn the dreaded number
of 30.
Have a baby.
You should/must have a baby before 30. I got married at 28. I am not getting on the
baby wagon till I want to. On the other hand, going by what people have to say,
my body has taken the number seriously. My womb is preparing itself for a
shutdown, much like the US government, except no one is really protesting
inside. I mean, my pancreas is busy and my intestines are twisted. My boobs are
aloof and can’t be bothered with a silly thing like a womb-shomb. So, all on
its own, my baby making devices are bidding tearful goodbyes to other body
parts. Like that irritating employee on his last day who looks at everyone with
panda eyes hoping to evoke a few tears.
Point being, I don’t want to have a baby. Not now. Maybe not
ever. Maybe I just want to annoy other
people’s babies. Whatever it is, being 30 isn’t going to change a thing. Maybe
my boobs will sag but that’s another story.
Travel. Better still, travel alone.
I don’t know what these people who write fabulous quotes
about travel do for a living. It’s all very cool to say ‘jump off a bridge and
life will catch you’ but in reality you are going to end up dead or severely
fractured. You know the real deal? The truth? You are going to need a job. The
boring one that involves sitting at a desk and staring at a computer. Because
while you are travelling purely on goodwill and somebody else’s truck, you are
going to need food. And a place to take a crap. And these things will cost you
money. Unless ticketless travelling is your thing, you are going to have to
have some cash to get from one place to another as well. Quoting beautiful
things about being a wandering soul at a ticket booth will most likely get you
a few abuses and a frisking from security. Or both. No ‘cool’ backpacker will
tell you this but even when in Italy, your fourth pizza will make you sick and all
other food will be slightly more expensive. Couch surf but know that you could
be thrown out in the middle of the night, that sometimes, the couch with be
drenched with baby pee and that no matter who you are, you will crave a warm
bath once in a while. Don’t embark on an
adventure purely based on a few Facebook posts. The real world needs a few
things from you.
I am 30 and besides a few useless keychains and shot
glasses, I don’t have much to show for my 20’s travelling experiences. To set
the record straight, I used my dad’s money. I am not ashamed of it. So really,
I haven’t done nothing yet.
Point being, I strongly recommend travelling and travelling
alone. But 30, yeah, that’s got nothing to do with it. If you can do it at 25,
you can still do it at 36.
Fall in love with a bad boy
I took this one seriously and went on a wild rampage going
from one bad guy to the next worse one with the enthusiasm of a 3 year old on
steroids. How wildly inappropriate that previous line is. Back to the boys. There
were ones I was convinced I was in love with, some who scared me because they
were in love with me and going mushy and
some I wish I have to never see again in my life. But being in love with a bad
boy isn’t all that it is made out to be. Most of the time, you are struggling
for security and hoping you don’t walk in on him doing the neighborhood
slut. Or sluts, as the case may be. He
will give you gifts and take you out to fancy dinners, what you won’t get is
time. He will make grand gestures of love, what you won’t get is commitment.
And while you pull your hair out of sheer frustration, long after you have
given up on tears and death threats, he will walk away easy. Funnily enough,
(and this has happened many, many times) he will marry the next girl he meets
while he was still getting to the end of the ‘I am not ready for marriage’ line
with you.
Point being, bullshit. You don’t have to date the bad boy or
have a break up that will fuck you over. You have to have relationships. Strong
ones, weak ones and ones that make you want to fall in love again. Mostly, you
have to find the next person.
If you are turning 30 anytime soon, take the advice people
give you, show them your middle finger and strut out fabulously. 30 is just a
number.
For the 2 of you who are wondering, here’s what I did do. I
bungee jumped in Nepal (scared and shitting bricks but it helped to have my
brother encouraging me). I skinny- dipped in Greece (took a long time to find
the beach and had a dear,dear friend keeping guard). Fell in love with a bad
boy (it was crap). Lived in 3 cities.
Found my bliss spot (pedicures). Performed splendidly at my job and got
promoted (this actually means something). Made some friends that I would sell a
kidney for. Not bad to show for 30 years, yeah?
