I recently broke up with someone. The break-up had nothing to do with our feelings, per se, and everything to do with timing. Or rather, our age difference: He’s 32. I’m 30.

I know. That sounds ridiculous. But among the single, never-been-married, over-30 crowd, a few years can mean the difference between wanting to grow up and, well, not. Translation: I was ready for a more serious commitment, and he just wanted to “hang out and have fun.”

The signs, of course, were there. Sure, on our first date he showed me a photo of his friend’s kid, and on our third he mentioned that he wished he had someone to bring home with him for the holidays. But his friends were a dead giveaway. Friends whom he was “embarrassed” to introduce me to. So they’re a little obnoxious, I thought. Maybe they make fart jokes. No big deal.

They did that and more—on our third meeting, his roommate announced that he had to poop and proceeded to talk to us through the bathroom door—but their lack of social graces wasn’t the issue. Rather, the issue was this: After a night of drinking (on a school night, no less)—this crew pretty much drank every night—I woke at 4:00 a.m. with a full bladder. I threw on some clothes and tiptoed out to the hall. Not only was the bathroom occupied, but there was also someone waiting to use it. (I should mention here that though my not-boyfriend only had one roommate, about two or three other people stayed at his place regularly, kind of like stray dogs. Only drunk, stoned stray dogs that vomit in your living room.) I stormed back into the bedroom and barked at my mostly asleep not-boyfriend: Are you fucking kidding me with this? Are we in goddamned college?

And therein lay the root of our problems. Aside from his job, the 32-year-old man that I was dating was living the life of a 22-year-old. I, on the other hand, was living the life of someone in her 30s: I have my own apartment. I have friends who have real jobs, friends who get up and go to work each day in order to pay the bills. Some of my friends are married. A few even have kids and a house.

When I was dating my not-BF, however, I worried about this. Was I old beyond my years? Were my days of fun and drinking over? Why hadn’t the cops shown up at one of my parties recently? While I don’t want to live like a college student, I also don’t want to move out to the suburbs and join the PTA.

I tried (and failed) to explain this to the NBF. There could be a middle ground, I told him. Marriage doesn’t have to mean the end of sex and life as you know it. Children don’t have to hinder your glass-of-wine-a-night habit. Growing up does not have to mean becoming your parents. It does, however, mean relinquishing your adolescence. And, frankly, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Granted, there’s no line at my bathroom door in the middle of the night. And my friends aren’t smoking up and setting off illegal fireworks in the middle of the street on a Wednesday night. The cheap thrills are fewer. But I’ve been there and I’ve done that. For about ten years, in my 20s. (For my friends, it was tequila and a piñata filled with sex toys and lube.) And, lord knows, I did it up right.

But there’s so much that I haven’t done. And, as any older, wiser person will tell you, it’s the experiences you have as an adult that’s the true stuff of life. Falling in love, real love, based on more than just hormones and lust. Committing your life to someone. Having really good sex. Holding your child (or a friend’s child, for that matter) for the first time. Watching your children grow and learn and develop. Putting someone else’s happiness before your own. Finally landing that dream job. Or publishing that book. And it’s all the little steps you take along the way that matter most, the quiet, ordinary moments that occur naturally, without the assistance of booze or drugs or someone’s dumbass roommate.

While a prolonged adolescence may be fun, free of encumbrance and responsibilities, at the end of the day, what do you have other than an expensive beer tab? What gives your life meaning? Perhaps, though, living a meaningful life is only something that those of us who’ve taken the leap into adulthood worry about.

As my old pal Joni Mitchell once sang, something’s lost, but something’s gained, in living every day. Rather than trying to hold onto what you’ve lost, growing up means embracing the gains, in whatever form they take. And, god, there are just so many of them. I look forward to each and every one.

Tags: Dating, Self-Reflection

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 20th, 2009 at 3:29 pm and is filed under Dating, Self-Reflection. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.