I'm Having More Fun Than You Read Online Free PDF Page A

in that?
----
     
    I discovered my first gray hair, nestled in my right sideburn, on August 18, 2005, and recorded the date for posterity. It was a difficult day, but thankfully there haven’t been many more sightings since. Not that I haven’t been looking. You know you’re thirty when you can point out the exact location of each of your gray hairs with your eyes closed.
    You also know you’re thirty when, for the first time in your life, you turn to your buddy and complain that the bar you’re in is “too loud.” You know you’re thirty when, every once in a while, you turn on Saturday Night Live and realize you’ve never even heard of the musical guest. And, painfully, you know you’re thirty when SportsCenter refers to LeBron James as a “veteran” and you realize he’s more than five years younger than you are.
    ----
    YOUTH MOVEMENT
     
    I know a girl who, when she was twenty-six, was dating a guy still in college. It was weird because I thought most chicks figured out never to sleep at a frat house by the time they were sophomores. What made it even stranger was that, because women mature so much faster than guys do, it’s rare to see a young woman dating an even younger man. Guys, of course, are notorious for dating women many years their junior. I’ll never forget the time, when I was still living in New York, that my buddy asked me if the bar we were going to that night was checking IDs at the door. Turns out the girl he was seeing at the time was only twenty. I can’t chastise him too much, though. Frankly speaking, my wife may still be in high school.
----
     
    Since I turned thirty, I’ve had good days and bad, but overall I’ve remained pretty optimistic. One way to think about it is that, after several years of being in my “late” twenties, I’m now in my “early” thirties. Early is better than late, right? Another way to think about it is to, well, not think about it. Whether you believe thirty is the new twenty, or thirty is the new death, there’s nothing you can really do about it. That’s why I’m spurning thirty and paying it no mind. People ask me all the time how long I can continue this way of life. Those people are usually sober and annoying. And my response is always the same: “Who the fuck are you?”
    THE PATH OF MOST RESISTANCE
     
    Shortly before my thirtieth birthday, I ran into a bunch of guys from my fraternity who were seniors when I was a freshman. I always looked up to these guys—I mean actually looked up to them, as I often lay passed out drunk on the floor of their off-campus apartment. Whenever I would see them after they had graduated, it would be like a glimpse three years into the future for me. When I was a sophomore, they were living in Manhattan and working on Wall Street, as I would later do. By the time I graduated and they were in their mid-twenties, they had started to pursue other interests and disperse across the country, as I would also later do. But now, most of them have moved back to New York, gotten married, and even had kids—none of which I’ll be doing in the near future. I’ll admit I got a little worried that I might have disrupted the space-time continuum or something. Especially since these guys are all enormously successful and have very hot wives. Then again, their fresh produce drawers are probably stocked with lettuce and shit, which is kinda lame. It dawned on me that diverging from their path may not be the conventional route, but it’s definitely the most fun.
    ----
    MANIFEST DESTINY’S CHILD
     
    The biggest variable in my path has undoubtedly been my move from New York to Los Angeles, where I now live far away from most of the people I’ve known the longest in my life. One of the oldest running jokes in Los Angeles is that no one is actually born here, they’ve just moved here from someplace else. I think that’s why at parties, when asked how long they’ve lived in LA, people will often tell you their exact