"Happy birthday! You're old enough that, if you were to date a college kid, you'd be considered a cougar."
This is the first birthday message I received ON my 25th. Luckily, it was 7 a.m. (a.k.a. hours before I can be expected to be a functional human being) and I’m generally not attracted to younger men or my so-called friend would have been in serious trouble. Of course I knew he was joking. But he should know how turning 25 terrified me. All of my friends are familiar with the anxiety and fear that has plagued me with every birthday following my 21st but this most recent birthday has been the worst.
My tension doesn’t even stem from how amazing my 21st year was. Don’t get me wrong, being 21 rocked. I was a senior in college and completely taken with my classes, my friends and my unrecognized potential.
Maybe it’s getting older. I know I’m not old. With the advent of modern medicine, I may very well live to see my centennial birthday and then some. Hopefully I’ll stop fearing them so much if that becomes the case.
Another friend tried to console me. “I can’t wait to turn 25,” he said. “I think people will take me more seriously at 25. When I tell people how I old I am now, they look at me like I’m a baby.”
Writing this has made me realize I can’t do anything about getting older. But I can change how I look at it. And, for now, maybe that’s enough.
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