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They say age is just a number, but at 30, that number comes with a lot of responsibilities. Adulting is like a surprise exam, and no one gave us the syllabus. Remember when we were kids, and we couldn't wait to grow up? Well, I want a refund. I recently had to buy a washer and dryer, and I realized I know nothing about appliances. The salesperson asked, "Front load or top load?" I felt like I was ordering from a secret menu at a coffee shop. I didn't know there were loading options for laundry. I just want clothes that don't smell like regret.
And what's the deal with health insurance? I thought I was invincible in my 20s, but now I have a deductible higher than my credit score. I called my insurance company and asked if they covered adulting therapy. They laughed and hung up.
The worst part about adulting is that there's no handbook. No one told me that I'd spend weekends comparison shopping for vacuum cleaners or that my idea of a wild Friday night would involve organizing my sock drawer. At 30, my definition of a good time is finding a coupon for something I actually need.
So here's to adulting, where the only thing I have mastered is pretending to understand my tax returns.
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They say life begins at 30, but they forgot to mention that it's like starting a new video game without a tutorial. Suddenly, you're thrust into the open world, and the only thing you're good at is accidentally setting your character on fire. I've been questioning my life choices lately. I mean, I can't even commit to a Netflix show, and now I'm supposed to figure out my life's purpose? I recently read a self-help book, and it said, "Follow your passion." Well, my passion is napping, and I don't think that's a lucrative career.
Remember when we were kids, and adults asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Now that I'm 30, the question has changed to, "Are you still figuring it out?" I thought I'd have it all figured out by now, but I'm still trying to find the right balance between ambition and the desire to binge-watch an entire season of a reality show in one sitting.
So here's to the quest for purpose at 30, where the only thing I'm certain of is that I'm really good at ordering takeout.
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Dating in your 30s is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but the haystack is on fire, and the needle is somewhere in the next county. In your 20s, you go on dates with people because they're cute or they have a cool job. In your 30s, you go on dates with people because they have a reliable car and a stable credit score. I recently went on a date, and the highlight was discussing our favorite cleaning products. You know you're an adult when you're swiping right based on someone's vacuum preferences. And forget about late-night text messages; at 30, the only text you get after midnight is a reminder from your calendar app about your dentist appointment tomorrow.
Dating apps are like a buffet of emotional baggage. Everyone's got a plate full of issues, and you're just hoping there's something good hidden underneath. And the worst part is that ghosting is now a legitimate strategy. In your 20s, it was rude; in your 30s, it's a survival skill.
So here's to dating at 30, where the only thing more confusing than relationships is the expiration date on a carton of milk.
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You know you're getting old when the candles cost more than the cake. I recently hit the big 3-0, and I've come to realize that being 30 is like being in the middle of a real-life game of Monopoly. You start off all excited, rolling the dice, buying properties, and suddenly, you blink, and you're stuck paying taxes, dealing with unexpected expenses, and just hoping to pass "Go" to collect your measly $200 paycheck. Turning 30 is like reaching the level in a video game where the challenges suddenly get harder, and you realize you can't just button-mash your way through life anymore. I used to bounce back from a night out in my 20s like a superhero, but now, if I go out on a Friday, it takes me until Tuesday to recover. I need a week to process one night of bad decisions.
And don't get me started on social media. In my 20s, I used to post pictures of parties and exotic vacations. Now, my Instagram is just pictures of my pet cat and screenshots of error messages from my computer. Being 30 means trading in FOMO for FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) on a good night's sleep.
So here's to being 30, where the only thing that gets lit is the scented candle in your living room because, let's face it, scents are the only things that should be burning at this age.
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