JAMES FULLBROOK

THREE OH

Despite my ever-present big dad energy and penchant for cardigans, 30 always felt like a far-off event that would never actually happen to me. Much like sporting injuries and unruly eyebrows. Yet here I am, with a reconstructed ACL and a handy trimmer attachment. I grimaced the other day when a commentator made a point of the thirty-year-old rugby player being ‘not so young anymore’ but quickly remembered how often I grimace when I get up off the sofa too. Despite what my bright pink t-shirt said on non-uniform day in Year 10, I don’t exactly abide by a live fast die young mantra. I tend not to think too far ahead and contemplate life. In news that will surprise nobody, overthinking just leads to anxiety and sadness. But the passing of three whole decades does give pause for thought.

Pupil > Professional > Partner > Property > Progeny > Paradise?

That’s it. Isn’t it? A distillation of the path to happiness we are expected to follow in Western culture at least. Life is not quite so linear but most of society returns to the path should they ever drift off. I am very much at the second stage of it, albeit having already ditched a career that most people consider a vocation. Thirty feels like the age at which the variety amongst peers is at its greatest. Some friends nurse babies on a Friday morning while others nurse raging hangovers from their corporate axe throwing event. Lockdown had an impact too. It seemed to hasten the journey along the path for some (hello Covid babies) while others perhaps stayed living with their parents for longer than they intended.

‘Comparison is the thief of joy’ is something I have seen quoted, largely without irony, on Instagram. It holds truth though, with social media providing a window into the lives of your friends, acquaintances and selected strangers. The trouble is that the window is carefully curated and the curtains are selectively opened. I have no obligation to be on Instagram other than the fact I am nosy and love to know what people are up to. It is a global vanity project in which so many of us partake. People liking my posts warms me more than I would care to admit. I am sure I would not miss it if I deleted it but I simply cannot bring myself to do it.

During my twenties, what my peers got up to behind their sepia filters had minimal impact on my life. It was fun to see how student loans were being spent but the content never stopped me in my tracks. Scrolling is different now. Once I have battled through numerous adverts and suggested accounts, all I seem to see are engagements, weddings and squinty little potatoes masquerading as children. Seeing these major life events prompts a mixture of feelings – joy (cute potato), judgement (blue suit with black shoes? come on mate) and sometimes just plain indifference (lad I played rugby with twice and haven’t spoken to in over a decade getting engaged to his horse-riding girlfriend). The feeling of jealousy rarely features, just the odd twinge here and there. But the feeling that perhaps you missed something. That you have wasted time. That you are not doing things the right way. That feeling sits there with its arms crossed, tapping its watch and imploring you to sort yourself out. Whether you can banish it is up to you. The burden of societal expectation weighs as heavy as you let it.

That pressure is often borne of social media. Instagram is the dominant platform when it comes to creating opportunities for comparison. Facebook is a lawless place dominated by the live laugh love cabal and Twitter is a mind-boggling mixture of incredible memes, hate speech and dismembered Palestinian children. BeReal deserves an honourable mention. A social media app that, whilst still open to manipulation, aims to be the antithesis of Instagram. Seeing my friends do mundane things? Yes please.

Professional

You could get career envy from LinkedIn. Not me though, I avoid that app with a devotion rarely seen outside a place of worship. It is full of all the worst people you know spouting motivational nonsense. Celebrants of capitalism, who enjoy Steven Bartlett in an unironic manner, using phrases like ‘joined up thinking’ and threatening to ‘circle back’ on you. Whilst I am sure it has its uses, it is another platform on which people can boast. This time, it is under a thin pretence of networking. Some of my friends are very successful in their fields. They outearn me comfortably. They work flexibly and enjoy all the benefits of the corporate world. I have found that hard to reckon with, particularly when I was teaching. With my career change, feelings of envy have receded in a similar fashion to my hairline and I am reasonably content with my place in the working world.

Partner

This milestone is probably the one that causes the most angst for many. Difficulties with housing or work can easily be put down to an inept government, financial issues, toxic workplaces and competition. When it comes to affairs of the heart, it is easy to feel like you are the obstacle to your own success. If that tedious mega-lad from your university course can find a partner, why can’t you? Ultimately though, it is no guarantee of happiness. I would like a partner but it is not a decision to rush. Perfection does not exist (except you, Rachel McAdams in About Time) but nor should you settle for something subpar because you are feeling left behind.

From 1989 to 2019, marriages decreased by 36.6% in the UK. This is indicative of both the increasingly secular society in which we live and, probably to a lesser extent, an economic climate where corporate greed is rife and their appetite is seemingly insatiable. The result of that is that modern couples may have to choose which aspects of their life to prioritise. I believe weddings are the best kind of party but I totally understand why they are less popular these days. I would happily get married but would not be broken hearted if my partner didn’t fancy it.

Property

In my decidedly middle-class circle of friends, every single homeowner has had financial assistance from their parents. I will too when the time comes. But it illustrates the dire state of affairs. For a country so obsessed with home ownership, there are so many citizens who will never be able to join that club.

Progeny

Children and babies have started to appear in my social circles. They are endlessly entertaining and I feel very lucky to spend time with them. I am in awe of my friends who have become parents. The love that shines out of them is enormous but they are candid about the realities of parenthood too. Ceaseless crying, freestyle vomiting, fussy eating. A walk in the park it is not. I am fairly set on having my own children but I can manage without dirty nappies for now. That is an easier statement to make as a man. I am not told by society that my biological clock, a bleak notion in itself, is ticking. Even with advances in healthcare, sperm donors and other societal improvements there is pressure on women to have a child sooner rather than later.

If you are single and want children but you’re ‘getting on’, what do you do?

Settle for someone just so you can have a baby?

Find a sperm donor?

Freeze your eggs?

Adopt?

None are that straightforward. They can incur hefty financial costs and induce serious emotional toil. There is stigma attached too. I do not envy the choices women have to make.

Of course, not everyone wants children. Whilst UK birth rates have largely declined since the '60s it seems that, currently, women feel more empowered in their choices not to have children than ever before. Had dating apps existed years ago, I doubt there would have been nearly as many women who felt they could select the don’t want children option on Hinge. It is, understandably, a dealbreaker for many.

Some people have hopes and dreams too. My visions of being a professional sportsman were always unlikely to come to fruition for a very long list of reasons, the chief one being that I was not good enough. Writing is a nice way to spend time but getting anything published seems unrealistic. UK culture is so heavily dominated by a network of people who paid fees for their education. My friends and I would love to run a cinema but it is a huge endeavour. Trying extra-curricular things like that could be viewed as an enormous waste of time or a welcome distraction amidst the horrors of a Tory-led UK. Aversion to risk increases with age. But with a projected retirement age of 71, why not chase some dreams? (If you have the time, resources, energy and contacts.)

Friendship does not feature as a stop on the path, it weaves its way throughout. In general, comparison with previous generations is moot because the world we inhabit is so different from theirs. However, I think there is an important distinction to highlight and that is peer relationships. Staying in touch used to require so much more effort (dial-up internet, fax, telegram, carrier pigeon etc) and it probably served to eliminate weak friendships. Now, with the tap of a follow button, I can see what my Year 3 nemesis has for breakfast on a regular basis. I try to cull my social media follows every now and then but sometimes it feels rude. What if they notice I unfollowed them? What if we bump into each other and they mention it? It’s an entirely unlikely combination of events yet the anxious thought persists. These no-maintenance connections just provide more opportunity for unnecessary comparison.

There is much to be said too about the proliferation of lifestyle influencers. They create illusions that feed those thoughts of inadequacy you might have.

Why am I not that toned? (custard tarts and a chronic Letterboxd addiction)

How do I get perfect skin? (buying that moisturiser she’s advertising will definitely do it!!)

Why doesn’t my child behave like that? (probably promised treats for compliance)

Why don’t my holidays look that good? (vintage filters and a free five-star hotel)

I can cast cynicism aside and acknowledge that influencers can serve a purpose and inspire. Be it through gym tips, cooking pointers or simply showing you how to clean that grouting – there is plenty to be learnt and used to improve your life. However, I cannot escape the feeling that, particularly for those concerned about their progression in life, these influencers do more harm than good.

Yes, I am thirty now but it’s not all bad. I was best man last year for one of my oldest and dearest friends. It was the loveliest day. Another one of our friends got married last year too. Another beautiful occasion. It was a privilege to be there and it will always be wonderful to see friends being in love. There are more weddings on the horizon and resultant babies too no doubt. I’m all for it. I am routinely humbled by my friends’ three-year-old who calls me ‘silly’ at every opportunity but it has been a delight to watch him grow. I can go on holiday wherever and whenever I like. Cinema trips are frequent and I am blissfully unaware of how much nursery costs. There is plenty to enjoy.

Paradise?

Not necessarily. Everybody knows divorce rates are sky high. Owning a house is stressful! Children are hard work. Those who live seemingly picture-perfect lives have their own worries too.

Did I marry the right person?

Should I have waited a few more years before having children?

That night out looked fun. I wish I’d been there.

Did I make the most of my twenties?

What did my sweet little child just put up their nose?

No, that is not how to stack a dishwasher darling!!

Ultimately, the grass is not always greener and I think it is important to remember that. Does ‘achieving’ everything on the path guarantee happiness? Absolutely not. Nothing possibly could. There is no perfect path so it is best just to forge your own.

Subscribe to James’s Substack