At 33 I manage to do my own thinking, am happy with myself and can relax among academics, medics or unemployed women. I pay my mortgage, have completed a PhD, hold down an interesting job, plant hanging baskets, travel to work through vicious traffic and invite friends to dinner. I know I am a grown-up. On top of this I also go dancing, visit the gym, pay too much money to go to clubs, run four miles and drink Bloody Marys. Sometimes I go to Womad.
Freely totally misses the point that many thirty- and fortysomethings achieve this combination of different facets of life, and contentment, without losing sight of or making fools of themselves, and without talking about it.