When I'm Sixty-Four

Now that Christmas is coming up, it is becoming painfully obvious that another year is almost over. A year where there has been new jobs and new people and of course, the ability to add another year to my age. What’s kind of depressing though, is to actually realise that I really am getting older (not to mention dumber – I had to stare at the number plate ‘QWIQ’ for at least 3 seconds this morning before I got it). I don’t think I am old though, not by a long shot, but I’m definitely older.

When I first started turning up places with boys, which could have really been as innocent as walking into a room with one, my peers used to ask if I liked them. Always eager to see love and romance everywhere they looked, even at a young age, this was the kind of question that came often and would have one dissolving into blushes or giggles, or perhaps righteous indignation depending on the boy in question.

A few years later and the reaction was probably not much different but the question had progressed to – is he your boyfriend? At this stage, the idea that you could be just friends with a guy was fairly novel. That is unless he already had a girlfriend, but then she would probably be there as well, attached to his hip (or lip, whichever was handier – as all good teenage couples seem to be). Even if the guy was your boyfriend though, you were primarily seen as single but choosing to spend your time romantically with another person.

After that you sort of get to the stage of seeing someone I guess. The ‘boyfriend’ idea is still around but somehow you know that in the space of a few years, the word has acquired a whole new set of connotations to go with it. This is where I thought I was at. I think I’m comfortable with this. It completely took me aback however when I was asked the other night if my ‘date’ was my husband. Since when have I been old enough to get married!?! That’s the thing though. I really am.

You know when you’re little and you plan your whole life out? Yes? No? Only I am that neurotic? Anyway, I always figured I’d get married and have kids. In that order. I was going to start the kids bit before I was 30 though, so let’s say at 29. Since being pregnant takes a big chunk of your year, that means get in the family way by 28. Ideally, I’d like some time just to be married first and save some money however, which means married at 27. You have to plan weddings though and spend time being engaged, not to mention falling in love with someone and deciding to marry which I figured would take at least a year, so that means 26. Hmm, somehow this isn’t quite as easy as it was when I was 13.

Now that I am older though, I think my expectations are a little more realistic. My life plan has definitely undergone some changes (and will continue to do so I’m sure for many years to come). I am not the same person I was then but I do sometimes wish I could grow younger for a while. At least until I’m ready to grow up.