Fear and loathing - The Quarter-Life Crisis

It's Fuck Me Friday and I'm already 24 hours ahead of the game! I got laid last night, right after I posted about how I was all tired and grossed out from nuclear bombs.

Today, I'm in a contemplative mood after innocently clicking on a discussion group on 20somethings entitled "Quarter-Life Crisis" (QLC). While derisively reading up other peoples' takes on "how do you know you're experiencing a quarter-life crisis" and "where did you think you'd be now?", I slowly realized that many of these people are MY AGE!

And now this whole QLC thing is really stuck in my head. Am I supposed to be experiencing one right now? I mean, a couple of weeks ago I told my bf I wanted to start saving up for a used BMW Z3 (afterall, we're young and we have no big obligations like a kid or anything!) but surely that isn't a sympton of the QLC, or is it?

I also came across a lot of bitching about shitty jobs and I really don't have that kind of problem. Or is it because I've acheived everything that I set out to acheive in my five-year plan?

Well, let's see here...

5 years ago I legally went Vegas with my boyfriend of five years, whom I totally thought i was going to marry in 2008, have babies with by 26 and live in a fabulous mansion by the water and drive an expensive car, courtesy of his fully-loaded-wipe-your-ass-with-a-$100-dollar-bill parents. I entered two beauty pageants (winning third place because i was "too caucasian for an Asian beauty contest", and winning Miss Talented at another...my talent? Cheerleading!), became a promo girl and really had no set goal in life (I wanted "to be on TV").

10 years ago I wanted to become a broadway star. I was obsessed with starring in a musical after Rex Smith in all his old-man gloriousness graced the stage as Joe Gillis in Sunset Boulevard. I saw it five times, bought the soundtrack and sung all of Betty Schaefer's duets. I even named my cockatiel after her. The an ex-boyfriend told me I reminded him of Kobe Tai and deep down inside, sprung a secret desire to become the next Asian Barbie Bombshell.

15 years ago I was in Grade 4, wearing baggy jeans sporting a collection of Club Monaco sweatshirts and flannel shirts in every color imaginable. Fifteen years ago, I was 'cool'. And really ugly, I suppose, as I told my friends I wanted to "be a model" and they all laughed. One girl even made a crack about "hahaha your legs are too short, you could never be a model". I also had really ugly bangs and was oblivious to the wonderful world of hair removal.

20 years ago I found myself sitting in detention after strangling Travis, the douche who stole a gluestick from the supply cabinet and refused to give it back, despite my threats of tattling on him. I also realized that I couldn't keep my hands off this cutie named Dean, and spent the majority of my Grade 1 year chasing him around trying to kiss him whenever I could. He despised me, but it didn't stop me. This was also around the time I told my parents that "when I grow up, I want to be a cashier at London Drugs". Then I went to school and told my girlfriends that I wanted to marry my doctor because he had a moustache and "he reminds me of daddy".

Fast forward to the present.

I work at management level in PR, swore off razors and best-friended hot wax and tweezers and still have this compulsive attack-that-guy-you-have-a-crush-on way of getting my fix. Oh yes, and I've caught myself on numerous occasions referring to the bf as "daddy". I did it twice when i was at Disneyland last month, once when I wanted a churro and the lineup was too long and I wanted to browse the stuffed toys in the gift shop and wanted him to stand in line for me and the other time was when i wanted to get a Mickey Mouse balloon. Ok, maybe I have little girl syndome too.

In any case, I don't really see the need for a QLC at this time. And heck, I hate to admit it but I'm only four more years away from the Dirty 30s. And science and technology will help us live till we're 160! So yeah, I think I'll revisit the whole QLC thing in about 20 years.