Let's talk numbers

I've always hated numbers, in the sense that math was just never my thing.  But recently, the numbers in my life have taken on a new and more prevalent role.  A role that freaks me the freak out.

When I think about it, there are everyday numbers and then there are numbers that come with different stages of your life.  Some examples of my everyday numbers:

• How many pimples do I have on my face today?
• How many cups of coffee am I going to drink before I start doing something productive?
• How many episodes of Scandal am I going to watch on Netflix tonight?

Those are all fine and dandy.  They are numbers I think about everyday, but they never stray beyond the day at hand.  When I have to think about the number of pimples on my chin (that's where those little shits always show up on me), at least there is hope that tomorrow will be different, and hopefully, better.  

Now that I'm half way done with college and have officially entered my freak out stage of life,  there are scary numbers starting to jump out at me.  Some examples of my scary numbers:

• The amount of time I have left until I'm a "real person"
• My age
• The number of jobs/experiences I will have until I find my ~*true passions*~ in life

Let's talk about the age example, because that's really what inspired this post in the first place.  I know that being 20 is not old, and that is not what I'm claiming.  I'm claiming that turning 20 forced me into a stage that I am very unsure about.  Pretty soon, I won't have the luxury of asking my parents to spot me 40 bucks.  I won't be able to lock myself in my room and dream that I'm dating Jim Halpert from The Office all day long.  And I definitely won't be able to dance in front of my bathroom mirror for hours at a time listening to the glorious sounds of the the new Ed Sheeran album.  

Being 20 has also forced me to realize that I live in the "grown up" world now.  I can no longer pretend that my life is like High School Muscial, even though I will carry on that dream for the rest of my life.  The following story is probably not something my mom should read even though I know she will.  #YOLO.  This past semester I met this guy as I was walking out of a bar.  My BAC level was definitely higher than my usual level of fun. Anyway, we started talking but eventually went our separate ways.  The next morning all I could remember was that we met, we talked and that he kissed me goodnight.  A pop kiss, nothing fancy.  But I could not remember for the life of me anything we discussed or shared with each other.  I guess I gave him my number since there was a text from him on my phone.  

This kid was persistent. He was determined to take me out.  It made me nervous because I literally knew nothing about him.  After asking around I found out he was 26-years-old.  In my head I was like HOLD UP, that ain't right.  That's so much older than me, I could never go out with him.  But then I realized, no, it's not that much older than me.  A 20-year-old dating a 26-year-old would not be an uncommon occurrence.  Then freak out mode hit me again when I realized I have reached that stage of my life- the stage where I'm supposed to date 26-year-olds every chance I get.  Dang.  Didn't see that one coming.  

So, whether I'm talking about age or the amount of time I have left until I'm a real person, I know that numbers will always be there.  I hope I can live the rest of my life without worrying too much about them.  They may bring on some tears at some points, but that's probably good for me.