"Thirty, flirty, and thriving” is the
famous tagline of one of my most favorite movies of all time, 13 Going
on 30. Now that I am 30, am I flirty and thriving?
It has inspired me to write my own article
about hitting the big three after noticing a flood of stories dedicated to it.
It has become a national issue, on my Facebook page at least, second to the
talk-of-the-town KC and Piolo break-up. I have decided to end my silence.
My younger brother, a 26-year-old
successful guy, mustering his courage, had finally heaved his proposal to his
long-time-first-girlfriend during their short visit here in Singapore. Months
after it, a reservation of the venue was made. The date had been settled;
preparations have commenced. My mom, excitement and worry consuming her, is
elated about this big event and anxious about my future. The question of my
turn is more frequent than ever; there isn’t any event when I phone her that
this question does not pop out of her lips. It has become a torturing spiel.
My colleagues always tell me: I have an
unreachable standard. Of which I always negate. Even the smallest of businesses
has some prerequisites to meet; failing to do so will compromise the trade.
Some say I do not know what I want. That exactly what the point is. I know
precisely what will fit me, and no one seems to adhere to that. I do not go for
second class.
I have to admit, in my circle of closest
friends, the number who plunged into married life is lesser than the number of
fingers in one hand. Women are empowered nowadays that we are the antithesis of
knight dependency. The freedom our forefathers offered their lives for is a
sacred pact with us; I feel it is only rightful to strain someone of
qualification before giving it away.
I am a social person. I go on dates. I
meet friends of friends. And friends of friends of friends. I can carry
conversations. I am not bad on the physical aspect as well. Don’t get me wrong
here. I am not trying to self-praise, neither am I selling myself. The
highlight of this whole article is that thirtyish people, who are single,
beautiful, and motivated to be happy in solitude, have their lives in control.
It is a mistake to perceive that the sole purpose of a woman is to walk down
the aisle and be wed to the man of her dreams. It is an insult to a female’s
capacity to dwarf her with the redundancy of living, if the end of the
flowchart only leads to those marital vows of eternity. And that the rest are
secondary. We have different purposes. We all have perfect timing. We have
different passion to quench. Life is bigger than a compounded domestication.
Besides, thirty is the
new twenty. Haven’t you heard?
