I was struck this morning by a particular dilemma that I will probably be struggling under for the rest of my life; that of being an immature adult. I live the life of an adult - I work, live alone, drive myself places, I spend my time with other adults, I do responsible and mature things - but I feel so terribly childish and inexperienced at odd times. I don't know anything about REAL self-sacrifice; the kind that only comes with marriage or children. And as such, I feel retarded in my maturation process.
I still call guys "dude" - and I'm a middle-aged woman! I just spent an evening practicing music with a cover band, all of whom are younger than me, and was telling them all about the new Demetri Martin TV show. It's not that I'm trying to stay young; but I can't stop doing certain childish things. At the same time, my favorite activities include needlework while I watch PBS history series. I delight in toys from Doctor Who, and I like dispensing advice to new mothers. I collect pictures of kittens and bunnies, and I crochet afghans.
At some point, I was supposed to put away childish things, and yet because I'm single, it's never really happened. At what point do I gracefully transition into being a middle-aged woman, when I have no children, no house, and no husband? I'm not complaining - I like my independence and the freedom to come and go as I please, and am glad to avoid the frustrations and sacrifices of marriage... and St. Paul recommended the single life for people who had the gift for it. But without those experiences that go along with family life, how do I ever catch up with my peers?
There are worse things - I am well and generally content. But somehow, I feel like an Excessively Late Bloomer.