This Is 29. Please Hold.
Or: Almost 30, Slightly Flirty, Definitely Still Figuring It Out
I couldn’t help but wonder… When did birthdays stop being about cake and start being about crisis?
This week, I turn 29. Not quite 30. No longer “mid-twenties.” Just hovering in that awkward emotional buffer zone, like the spinning rainbow wheel on a Mac. Still loading. Please wait.
Turning 29 means getting unsolicited updates from society: “You’ve got time!” “30s are the best years of your life!” “Do you want to get married?” — in that order.
It’s the age where your Instagram feed becomes a carousel of weddings, mortgages, couples in coordinated linen sets, and dogs named after luxury brands.
Meanwhile, you’re out here still wondering whether to reply to a 5-day-old Hinge message or delete the app entirely and start a new life in Margate.
At 29, I thought I’d be somebody. And I am! Just… not the somebody I pictured back when I was 19 and thought 30 meant owning property and having a Hue Lights house set up.
Instead, I’ve become the kind of person who carries a diary, buys Animal Crossing Lego, and has a favourite side of the bed — even when no one’s sleeping on the other side.
So no, I haven’t “figured it all out.” But I’ve done things I never thought I would:
- Lived alone.
- Paid rent on time.
- Survived heartbreaks and house moves.
- Navigated dating apps, adult friendships, Sunday Scaries, and 9-5s that somehow start at 6am and end 6pm.
Dating at 29? It’s like auditioning for a role you’re not sure you want, but still want to be cast in — just in case. You’re stuck between “casual” and “please don’t waste my time.” You want connection, but also boundaries. Passion, but also plans. Someone who’ll text back, bring you an iced matcha, and maybe even make a reservation that involves actual chairs.
I’ve loved, I’ve lost, I’ve survived situationships, men that have said ‘let’s see what happens’ and meant nothing by it and the one that got away.
And yet — I still believe. In chemistry. In timing. In love that makes you feel like the main character again, not just the sidekick in someone else’s highlight reel.
And then there’s the career thing. By now, weren’t we supposed to have “found our calling”? Instead, we’ve got inboxes, burnout, and a bullet-pointed LinkedIn profile that says “thrives in a fast-paced environment” when really, we just haven’t had lunch yet.
But 29 is realising that figuring things out isn’t a one-time event — it’s a continuous, deeply confusing game of Cluedo. And most of us are still in the hallway.
So no, I don’t have it all together. But maybe “together” is overrated.
Maybe we celebrate the fact that we’re still here. Still growing. Still laughing. Still trying. Still answering “How are you?” with a weirdly upbeat “Yeah, not bad!” even when Mercury’s in retrograde and Blank Street got your matcha wrong again.
They say 30 is when life really begins. If that’s true, then 29 is the prequel. The pilot episode. The setup. The part where we try on different plotlines to see what fits.
So here I am — slightly flirty, deeply reflective, wearing an outfit that probably won’t age well in photos… and kind of excited anyway.
Because this version of me? He may not have all the answers — But he’s doing alright. And honestly, that’s enough.