Stuck In The Middle: What Truly Makes Being 25 So Confusing

I’m caught in the “in-between” of my 20s.

I am at a time when I just bought a shirt that reads, "F*cking is my cardio," and a time when I have a legitimate desire to f*ck in order to have a baby.

There’s no doubt about it: My mid-20s are terribly confusing.

Lately, I find I’ve been literally feverish with baby fever.

My uterus actually quivers at the sight of a baby, an article about baby names, my nephew’s Lightning McQueen sock and hell, even my coworker’s story about her 5-month-old grandson spitting on her.

I’m listening, squatting three cubicles away, overhearing her vile tale about baby vomit and temper tantrums. But I’m gushing on the inside, my heart racing, being all like, “Aw! I want to be spit on.”

It’s disgusting. When did this happen?

Did I turn 25 and suddenly, an alarm clock went off?  Is this acceptable? Do I need to buy gold metallic parachute pants now or something?

Suddenly, I want to get married.

Not that I didn’t want to beforehand, but now, I really, really, really want to get married (like, really).

I want to get married so badly, I wish it happened yesterday.

Is this normal? Seriously, Elite Daily readers, I want to know.

I mean, I suppose how I feel is normal. I’m dating the love of my life. I know he’s my soulmate.

I’m talking real soulmate: an actual partner who listens to your stories, who participates actively in your every waking moment, who leaves love notes just because and supports you just because.

Is living with this kind of love suddenly making me an idiot?

I’m 25. Young, compared to most. All my relatives scoff at me. “I only wish I could go back to my 20s!”

But they’re also confusing.

Twenty-five is that age where, at least for me, I’m over the college act.

I’m done with the bars and the clubs. I'm done using profanity every other word. I’m done with the first dates, and the awkward conversation that follows.

I’m tired of the "getting to know you" stage. I’m tired of the “let’s do this again" shuffle. I’m tired of the scene.

Literally. It bores me. Not that every once in a while it can’t be fun, but it actually isn’t.

Drinking, wearing stilettos and staying up until 1 am on a Friday night is just not engraved in my DNA anymore.

All I want to do is come home, order sweet and sour chicken and an egg roll, buy new dishes for the kitchen and stroll down the aisles of Baby Gap, running my hand over my extended belly.

I want to talk with my husband about what we want for our future, and how we envision it together.

I want to know, at 25, is it bad I want that?

Should I be more focused on moving to Los Angeles to try out my hand at acting, or should I move to Soho and open up a coffee shop?

Should I be more adventurous? Should I invest my 20s as a time to take on new risks?

It’s not like I'm always thinking about life when I’m settled down. I think about adventure, too. Sometimes, in the off moments, when I'm not thinking about babies and wedding vows, I picture a different life.

I think about how I want to move to New York, apply for that writing job and become famous.

I think about working at a ride attraction at Disney World because it just seems like a fun thing to do.

I think about not getting married and not wanting kids until I’m 30.

That way, I can finish school, write four books, travel the world and attend the Emmy Awards without getting a babysitter (because I know my handsome, talented, TV producer boyfriend will win one day).

Should I go back to carefree living?

Is it bad to settle down in your mid-20s? Is doing so stopping life before you are ready?

Or is being 25 and knowing what you want, despite the level of adventure, stupidness and thirst for something unknown, perfectly acceptable, if you feel it's the right thing for you?