The saying goes:
"If only I knew then what I know now. I'd be cleaning up."
This is completely cock-eyed. Now I'm noticing my maturity - mostly in this grey hair that appeared (apparently) overnight - I see it for what it is. Maturity is another word for justifying loss of adventurousness.
It breaks down like this. When you're young and wide-eyed, you:
+ understand women only at the fringe
+ have no fear if she's bad for you
+ don't care whether she's good for you
+ concern yourself only with starting something
Experience, actually bad experiences, are a proxy for maturity. But I now think that a more useful maturity is one that maintains a willingness to be unafraid and a knowing of where real dangers lie.
Call it having slow hands with quick feet.
Bottoms Up, Young Singles.
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