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?