In Defense Of Immaturity
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In Defense Of Immaturity
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In Defense Of Immaturity

What She Misses Most About The Younger You

“What’s my age again?”

-Blink 182


This afternoon I found myself on a New York City subway, unintentionally eavesdropping on a couple’s conversation. The girl — a pretty blonde — was talking about how they should pick up the classic board game Operation on the way home so that they could turn it into a drinking game. The guy — a fedora-wearing dickhead — immediately shot the idea down, citing their age as a reason.

Hot, Awesome Girl: “But it’ll be hilarious. If you buzz it once, drink for five seconds. If you buzz it twice…“  

The Destroyer Of Drinking Game Dreams: “I’m not playing drinking games. We’re 34. That’s so immature.” 

Now, this conversation elicited two internal responses. 1) I wanted to dropkick this jackass, steal his girlfriend and play drunken board games with her posthaste. 2) I never want to let my age dictate the level of fun I’ll allow myself to have.

Maturity is often spoken about as if it’s on some higher intellectual plane, as if, once you’re “mature,” you’re an adult. Maturity is almost universally referenced as being better than immaturity. “You’re so immature” is often said with the same vitriol as “You’re so stupid.” But, more often than not, the more mature people are, the less fun they tend to have.

And when I discuss maturity, I’m not talking about the guy who lives with his parents until he’s 39. That, in my eyes, is stunted adulthood. Someone who sleeps in the same twin bed in his 30s that he did when he was 8, that’s not someone who’s immature; that’s someone who needs a therapist. When I talk about the negative aspects of maturity, I’m talking about the conscious effort to weed out what you enjoyed in younger years.

Why deny yourself something you once found fun?

If I were God — which, by the way, the jury is still out on — I would add an 11th commandment: Never deny thyself something that makes thee laugh.

See, I tend to judge the quality of a person's life by how often he or she laughs. When you laugh, you smile. When you smile, you’re happy. So in that one moment, regardless of whatever crap you may be dealing with at the time, you are, albeit however temporarily, happy. Whenever I’m out with friends, every single time, without fail, the topic of conversation shifts toward something completely f*cking ridiculous, or, in the words of some, immature. For example, this Friday, I was out at a bar and a friend was telling a hilarious story about using Viagra. That steered the conversation down a long and preposterous path of boner stories. Immature? Most definitely. Entertaining? I was laughing so hard I was tearing up at points.

Guess who was laughing far less than Pete? The dud in the corner discussing taxes.

Of course personalities and tastes evolve as time goes on. I’m not saying that everyone should make fart jokes and play with action figures. I’m aware that Never Never Land isn’t real. Contrary to what this article may imply, I’m no dummy. But what I am saying is that the guy on the subway shouldn’t find himself too old to play drunken Operation with his hot girlfriend! It makes no sense. I truly feel that nobody should ever not do something they find fun because of their age.

(Exception: Serial killing. If you’re a serial killer, you’re too old. Stop.)

And, yes, perhaps my view is a little skewed. A portion of my income is dependent on me writing jokes. Also, I have no children. No PTA. No mortgage. No alimony. With responsibility comes stress, and with stress comes a justifiable lack of laughter. I get it. But no one, regardless of job, stress level or age, should stop having fun.

If you’ve been “too mature” lately to have a night when tears won’t stop streaming down your face because you’ve been laughing too hard, change that. Change that this weekend.

Because much like every circus needs a businessman, it, too, needs a clown.

Cheers,

@PeterHoare