CHRIS WALKER VS. THE PERCEPTION OF FAILURE
Posted in Life Choices on July 18, 2008 by Chris Walker“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Oh. Just haven’t found the right girl yet?”
Conversations like the one above have become more and more frequent now that I’ve passed the quarter century mark, and I’m sure they’ll continue to increase as more time passes. I know I’m not the only one struggling through these exchanges, and I’m sure I’m not alone when I say they’re fucking ridiculous.
(Note: Aside from the ones I’ve made up, I’ve sought out no statistics for the coming statements however; I’m almost certain my presumptions are true. Refute them, if you must.)
Most parents of people my age came from the stern, working, middle class; their parents were middle class, they were middle class almost by default. Religion is huge in the middle class, so is settling into a steady job and starting a family. It is the “American Dream” after all, isn’t it? Husband and wife, a plot of land, 2.5 children, a cat and a dog, and church on Sunday. My generation didn’t buy into that version of the dream. And while most of us came from the middle class, the majority of us no longer belong to the middle class. Financially, perhaps, but not in ideology.
Generation X was the first generation to shun the “American Dream”. (No, of course they weren’t the first. I’m excluding generations from the 70s with all their free-love and hippie-dom because, well, fuck them. I’m speaking currently here.) Whether defiant in their slackerdom, or pursuing the dot com dream, Generation X were rebels because they were unwilling to settle into the roles of their parents before them. I guess you can attribute it to the fact Generation X was incredibly spoiled but, nevertheless, they shunned life in the suburbs; they wanted to live in the big city, working as freelance writers or graphic designers or be grunge musicians or what-the-fuck-ever. Social significance, personal wealth, and professional accomplishment became more important than starting a family and working a nine-to-five.
My generation, Generation Y (perhaps even more spoiled), promptly followed suit but, by the time we started thinking for ourselves, there was nothing to collectively rebel against. The dirt road had already been paved. With that lack of crisis or need for rebellion, and the glamorization of lifestyles once consider unrealistic or unattainable, we became confused about our futures. In turn, a lot of us have no idea what we want out of life. Having said that, we know what we don’t want: We don’t want to get married right away. We don’t want children. We don’t want to settle down. We didn’t even necessarily want to go to college, it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Surprisingly, all of this is okay. (And, of course, my summation is a vague overview of a multifaceted subject with countless variables and exceptions. There are a lot of people my age who know exactly what they want out of life. I know people who’ve graduated, gotten married, and had children and are the pinnacle of happiness. But I also know a lot of guys who probably wished they would’ve worn a condom and are now reluctantly giving up their dreams for diapers, with the prospect of marrying someone who isn’t the supermodel they thought they’d one day meet because they now feel obligated to do so. And so on.)
Not “starting a family”, not having children by age twenty-five, and not even considering that combo anytime in the foreseeable future should not be considered failure, because it absolutely isn’t. It’s perfectly acceptable to still be single or consider career goals and personal satisfaction more important than creating life. It’s okay to desire more on a personal level than unthinking root down and do what is considered “normal”. It’s okay to be selfish. It’s okay to take your time when “figuring it all out”.
I remember this miserable, middle-aged socialite approached me at my sister’s wedding and snidely asked, “How does it feel to have your little sister get married before you?” I shrugged and said fine, I was happy for her, but what I really wanted to say was, “How does it feel to be married to a man you don’t even love anymore, and who probably doesn’t love you? How does it feel to have done nothing substantial, how does it feel to have no real interests or opinions on matters other than who’s husband is cheating on them with a younger woman or who gets kicked off Survivor? Isn’t it time for another tummy tuck or an eye lift to fill the void in your otherwise meaningless life?” And trust me, I wasn’t bitter because the woman struck a sensitive cord. My sister is a different breed: almost three years younger than me, she graduated college in three-and-a-half years, is already a year into her desired profession, and now happily married. She’s got it all figured out but what she wants out of life and what I want are two completely different things. No, I was angry because the bitch who asked the question wears too much makeup and having her face in such close proximity offended me. Not to mention, her antiquated version of the way young people should progress into adulthood is outdated and fucking absurd.
Going back to the conversation I started with, being twenty-five and not being married does not equal haven’t found the right girl yet. To believe that is the only reasonable answer is ridiculous. Maybe I have found the right girl and I’m just not in a hurry. I mean, I could sit there and tell complete strangers, “Well, I was engaged but it didn’t work out so now I would rather take my time so I don’t fuck it up again,” but sometimes those complete strangers are moral Christians and they’re offended by the word fuck. Besides, I was relieved when my engagement fell through. I didn’t really want to get married in the first place.
I don’t know, maybe I’ve written this whole thing to validate myself and my life choices, to make my selfishness seem more acceptable. Probably not, though. I don’t need validation. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish, I know this when people my age with screaming babies tell me how lucky I am. I’m not lucky, I’m just smart. I’m happy with a girlfriend and a condo, traveling the globe and calling it work, and making a reasonable income which I get to spend all on myself. I’m still striving towards greater goals and bigger dreams - even if I’m not 100% sure what those goals and dreams are - and I’m not compromising them by starting a family. I’m certainly not alone in this mindset; I’ve got an entire generation, whether knowingly or unknowingly, doing the exact same thing.
























