Is there life after 30?

We had a meeting here recently classmates. I graduated from school - I would not lie - 12 years ago. Thirty I already. I will not bore you with a description of a riotous party ten years after graduation, because I never had this celebration of life. At the meeting of classmates, my school friend and I just did not go.

They thought - what's the point? There, people with whom I have not seen for more than 10 years will ask questions: have I got married? Where are my children? WHAT??? Not? Why didn't I get them yet? Do I have a mortgage? Also no? Well, darkness, of course, darkness. They will receive negative answers to all these questions and will take a deep breath: they say, the poor fellow. Thank God, our life is a success.

I, in turn, will probably think: thank God, I’m not such a well-fed (for example) woman (or man) with two children who works at the “factory”, then she goes to the supermarket by bus, pushes home with packages, prepares A three-course dinner to his large and not necessarily friendly family, but at night he puts on a terry nightgown and smears his back with fast-gel. Because usually such people ask such questions. Nothing personal, just a generalized example.

I remember at the dawn of my youth, I watched the adorable all women series “Sex and the City”, in which Carrie Bradshaw and her faithful friends, at the time girls of 30, complained about their loneliness, looking for the men of their dreams and their life path. And they wondered: why, at the age of 30, do you really need to be a family man? I even empathized with them at the age of 18 and was sure that at any age you should enjoy life in all its manifestations, not listen to anyone and know that everything has its time. And now I’m 30, and I also have no doubt about this and wondering why it’s not customary in our society to respect those who are not yet ripe for a family at this age.

Don't get me wrong: I have absolutely nothing against family people with children, decent work, with their proper moral values, which are absolutely happy. I have such examples before my eyes, I really admire them and in the future, I hope I will become about the same.

I just can not understand one thing: why do so many people try to climb into my soul with questions about the disruption of my personal life in the manner of their own? Former classmates, classmates, work colleagues, distant relatives. Do they really care how others live if they are immensely happy? If they like that their life goes exactly that way and no other way?

By God, it would be better to enjoy my other successes: that I have a beloved man, a favorite thing, that I travel, live for my own pleasure, engage in self-development, self-education, career, in the end. They would ask at the meeting how I was doing, what's new in general. Etc.

I’m sure that I’m not the only one to answer such tactless and arrogant questions with enviable regularity: this fate will overtake any woman who has lived to 30 years and has not acquired the inherent family-material paraphernalia. Sometimes it even seems to me that the “marital status” column along with the housing issue for most of my friends are the determining factors of my status as successful or not so human.

Why am I suddenly so outraged? Because in fact these questions, like many of my other peers, have been asked me since the age of 25. But when you turn 30, they start to sound more and more often, people less and less familiar, and more and more persistently and shamelessly. So, as if the life of a person after 30 years must clearly fit into a certain framework, it is not known by whom and why established.

I'll tell you a secret: every person has his own ideas about life, including that which comes after 30 years. It is, this life, even if it is not completely family or not family at all. So why do I respect those who have created their family and are really happy in it, and all those who are on the other side of the barricades often sympathize with me?

It bothers me because I am a person who doubts. Push me a little and that's it. No, my personal opinion. They say to me: "An, you have to go." And I gradually begin to think, maybe it's time? I'm starting to get nervous. Ill sleep Candy to eat at night. Then fried potatoes and other hamburgers. Then get fat. Then my depression begins. Then I take out a book on self-development and plan to make an appointment with a psychologist. Then my man comes and asks: “Do you really want a family and children right now?” And I understand - yes, I do. But not right now! Right now everyone else wants for me. And I need some more time for myself.

That got it. Honestly.

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