Being a thirty-year-old in a twenty-year-old’s world

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I need to move.

Chris: Why? I thought you liked the new flatmates?
Me: No. They’re far too young. Enough is enough, I need to live with people more my age. People I can talk to.
C: You can’t talk to your current flatmates?
M: No they’re too young. They have no experience to bring to the conversation. We’re too different.
C: Different how?
M: When you’re young, everything is black and white. I need to live with people who understand grey.
C: Everything isn’t black and white then?
M: They haven’t changed their minds or made mistakes yet.
C: You want to live with people who’ve made mistakes?
M: No, well yes. People who understand.
C: How does this fit into your previous plan of surrounding yourself with positive people? The new profile sounds like you want to live with ….. um …people who’ve …. failed at things?
M:  I’ll find successful thirty-year-olds to live with.
C: You can’t afford to live with successful thirty-year-olds. You’re renting the smallest room in a flat with twenty-year-old interns.
M: Shit.
C: What brought this on anyway? Last we spoke you were going out for drinks with them.
M: We did. They got very drunk.
C: And?
M: They asked me how old I was, so I told them.
C: So?
M: When I told them, the twenty-one year old blonde French girl patted my head and said ‘AWWWWWWWW!’

I wish I had said….

Sandra Bullock WTF?

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