Is there life after 30?

We recently had a meeting of classmates here. I graduated from school - not to lie - 12 years ago. Thirty to me already. I will not bore you with a description of a reckless party ten years after graduation, because I did not have this holiday of life. My school friend and I just did not go to a meeting of classmates.

Thought - and the point? There, people whom I have not seen for more than 10 years will ask questions: have I married? Where are my children? WHAT??? Not? Why haven’t I brought them yet? Do I have a mortgage? Also no? Well, gloom, of course, gloom. They will receive negative answers to all these questions and take a deep breath: they say that this poor fellow. Thank God, our life was a success.

I, in turn, will probably think: thank God, I’m not such a well-fed (for example) woman (or peasant) with two children who works at the “factory”, then goes by minibus to the supermarket, drags home with packages, cooks a three-course dinner for his large and not necessarily friendly family, and at night he puts on a terry nightie and smears his back with fastum gel. Because usually it is precisely such people who ask similar questions. Nothing personal, just a generalized example.

I remember at the dawn of my youth I watched the series Sex and the City adored by all women, in which Carrie Bradshaw and her faithful friends, at that time girls of about 30, complained of their loneliness, were looking for men of their dreams and their life paths. And they wondered: why at the age of 30 you definitely need to be a family man? Even at the age of 18, I empathized with them and was sure that at any age you need to enjoy life in all its manifestations, not to listen to anyone and to know that everything has its time. And now I’m 30, I still don’t doubt it and wonder why in our society it’s not customary to respect those who at this age have not yet matured for the family.

Do not get me wrong: I have absolutely nothing against family people with children, decent work, with their correct moral values, who 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’t understand one thing: why are so many people trying to get into my soul with questions about the disorder 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 just that way and nothing else?

By God, it would be better to be happy about my other successes: that I have a beloved man, a beloved business, that I travel, I live for pleasure, I am engaged in self-development, self-education, career, in the end. They would ask at a meeting how I’m doing, what’s new in general. Etc.

I’m sure that I’m not the only one with an enviable regularity to answer such tactless and unceremonious questions: this fate will befall any woman who has lived up to 30 years and has not acquired family-material paraphernalia inherent in age. Sometimes it even seems to me that the column “marital status” together with the housing issue for most of my friends are the determining factors in my status as a successful or not very person.

Why did I suddenly get so outraged? Because in fact, these questions, like many of my other peers, were asked from the age of 25. But when you turn 30, they begin to sound more and more often, from people who are less and less familiar, and more and more insistently and shamelessly. So, as if human life after 30 years should clearly fit into a certain framework, it is not known by whom and why it was established.

I’ll tell you a secret: each 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 created their own family and are really happy in it, and all those who are on the other side of the barricades often sympathize with me?

This also worries me because I am a doubting person. Put a little pressure on me - and that’s it. There is no my personal opinion. They say to me: "An, you have to go." And I'm gradually starting to think, maybe the time is right? I'm getting nervous. Sleep badly. Eat sweets at night. Then fried potatoes and other hamburgers. Then get fatter. Then my depression begins. Then I take out books 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 want. But not right now! Everyone else wants for me right now. And I need some more time for myself.

Here they got it. Honestly.