22

So in a little over a month I'll be turning 23, and I must admit that I'm not looking upon this occassion with the same eagerness as with birthdays past.

22 is a cool age. It sounds cool. It's alliterative. There's a nice palindromic symmetry to it. It's a good bridge between one's early and mid-20s - but you're not too far removed from your teens either, so you can make friends in both groups without feeling a quasi-generational gap. You're still in the age range of girls at their physical prime without feeling like an old skeevy creep. Physically, you're at your peak - strong while still maintaining that youthful energy. You're developing a more hard, stubbled jawline and masculine facial structure, but some of that boyishness still lingers. You might even still pass for a high school senior, and it might be the last age at which you can get a pass on doing things considered juvenile. You've accumulated a lot of knowledge at this point, yet your mind is still flexible and sharp and amenable to picking up new things. You can be in university - either undergrad or grad school, or even be married as many guys were in generations past. It's a good age.

In a month holy fucking shit - I'm TWENTY-THREE. Something about it screams time to get your act together and settle down and get serious with life.