I am in my early thirties. It’s a wondrous time, being over thirty. Forgive me for saying it this way, but when I reached thirty, I quickly developed an intolerance for bullshit.
My age suddenly became a stark reality. For the first time, I felt like a real adult, and realized how responsible I am for my remaining years on this earth.
Part of of this realization encompassed the area of friendships and relationships. I looked around and realized that I know a lot of people. I joke around with a lot of people and hang out with them at church and the like. I realized that less than a handful of those people actually knew me, and when I examined myself, I hardly knew them either. Not really.
When you are a child, you are shoved into school and soccer clubs and forced into circles of other kids that inevitably become your friends. In your twenties, a lot of those friendships fade away, and it’s a disheartening thing to go through. Suddenly you find yourself, thirty-something, feeling quite friendless.
And you think to yourself, “I’m a nice person. I’m funny and friendly and kind-hearted. Heck, I’m hilarious! What’s wrong with me?” Read more