Quarter-Life Crisis

Turned 25 about two weeks ago.

I sense that this is somehow supposed to be a watershed moment. My mother continues to jokingly remind me that when she was my age, she had already given birth to me. She also continues to innocently ask about any plans for me to get married. By 25, I guess some people think that this is supposed to already have happened. Oh, and don't get me started on the advancement of my career...

But really, 25 isn't a special age anymore. What used to be a reliable demarcation line for success is now simply a number that affords me certain sad privileges that aren't all that great when you sit and think about them. I can now rent a car without fear of extra fees or stern rejection from the people behind the Hertz desk. Also, everyone tells me that my car insurance is supposed to drop dramatically the moment I hit this age. What, does being a quarter-century old denote a heightened ability to drive slower?

Side note: If there are any other benefits directly related to being 25 or over, please let me know. I want to abuse all of them. Maybe even in the same weekend.

The reality of this numeric situation hit me square in the face when I was taking a survey...somewhere. You've taken these; you know how it works. They ask you for your gender, age, and ethnicity before allowing you to go further. Ages are broken into categories: 18-24, 25-30, etc. I'm no longer a spry statistic...I fall squarely in the middle.

Even worse is the fact that I'm getting hit by old people diseases. Last month, I had a couple of kidney stones that were so bad that they needed to be removed via a rather...invasive procedure. While I was in blinding pain, the doctors thought this to be both hilarious and enigmatic. How could a kid in his mid-twenties get kidney stones? Bah!

While this isn't my midlife crisis by any means...I somehow feel like I'm entitled to a brand new sports car. Feel free to leave one in the comments.