Yesterday, like many of my fellow Americans, I partook in the quadrennial tradition of somewhat caring about soccer. As you may know, the United States played Ghana — the team that the US has been eliminated by in the past two World Cups.
And if you have as excellent a sense of humor as high school me, you’ll be familiar with the joke of the the moment during those two elimination games — that if the USA lost, they would be Ghana.
Having shared that A++ joke with an old high school friend, I took to Facebook messaging him. Although we probably haven’t talked in over a year, it was crucial that I ask him what was gonna happen if the USA lost. Our convo went as follows:
Me: you know what happens if the US loses in soccer today?
Friend From HS Who I Occasionally Facebook Stalk: they are (most likely) ghana!
Me: i also like how our last message was from 2009 and seemed to involve getting drunk and playing softball
Friend From HS Who I Occasionally Facebook Stalk: haha, that was the thing back then i guess.
That was indeed, “the thing back then” — spending entire afternoons creating elaborate plans so we could pregame before playing in our co-ed summer softball league. This was something we spent the entire season trying to do, and only really pulled off once or twice. Given things like driving, being underage, and mindless summer jobs, we didn’t exactly get to live out our fantasized plan of being exactly like the movie Adventureland. Though we definitely came pretty close.
Anyway, the exchange with my friend Mitch got my ThoughtCatalog article senses tingling (these are like Spidey Senses, only with somewhat hackneyed jokes about eating Quinoa), as the whole exchange seemed like solid fodder for an article. Because if caring about getting drunk before softball was my main priority 5 years ago, this means that time must have passed. Because now, as a super mature and wise 24 year-old, I would still want to get drunk before playing softball. Though I’d definitely want to stretch first.
For at least 10 minutes.
In the spirit of analogies, aging, and things possibly being “so true,” here are a few more priority differences of being 19 vs. being 24:
1. Evening Activities
19 Year-Old Me: Get drunk and play softball. Go home, and try and figure out how to play All You Wanted by Michelle Branch on the piano.
24 Year-Old Me: After I finish writing this article, I’m gonna go put on a podcast, clean my room, and head down to the new laundromat because the laundromat I usually go to just closed. I’m bummed that the old laundromat closed, but I’m pretty excited about this new laundromat — it got really good Yelp reviews, and since it’s further away from my apartment I’m gonna probably just stay there. This will give me a solid chunk of time to catch up on my reading.
19 Year-Old Me: I cared a lot about having fun on the softball field. I also cared a lot about being really good at beer pong. I also just assumed I was gonna go to law school, because adulthood was a few years away and who cares.
24 Year-Old Me: I’ve got some scripts. They’re really original and unique and one of them has a character named Calen who’s a white rapper. I’m pretty sure I’m the only 24 year old with “scripts,” so that’s promising.
Also, old people are never gonna retire and there appears to be a finite amount of money. Though at this point there’s really no pressure, because you don’t have to really decide what you’re gonna do until you’re like 42. Or as they cool kids say “an early 40-something.”
3. Food Preferences
19 Year-Old Me: Once after softball, I ate 5 McChickens. At the time, I considered it one of the better achievements of my life.
24 Year-Old Me: I still think that was a pretty good accomplishment, though my attitude towards McChickens has definitely changed. Though this might be because I went to get one the other day, and the NYC price for a McChicken is now $1.99. This, clearly, is a crime. As a customer who can exercise the power of choice in an oversaturated fast food market, I will be taking my talents to Wendys.
Also, I usually eat turkey sandwiches for lunch because I know they won’t mess with my stomach.
As you can clearly see, I, the official representative of all 24 year-olds on planet earth, have slightly different priorities now as opposed to when I was 19. While the premise of this article could probably have been summed up in four words (I am slightly older), I do sincerely thank you for reading the article — especially because you didn’t have to consume your #content here, and because this piece of content doesn’t even have a joke about thinking about going to the gym but then ordering seamless instead.
Good stuff, folks. Can’t wait to do this again in 2019, when a McChicken costs $17. Also, the United States are not yet Ghana.