In one of the more poignant scenes in the hit "Knocked Up" (2007), Paul Rudd's character Pete, after having been caught ditching his wife to hang out with his male buddies, laments, "With work and you and the kids, sometimes I just need some time to myself." Choking back tears, his wife Debbie replies, "I want time for myself too. You're not the only one." Struggling with the distinct sense that his life has turned into one long cycle of monotony, Pete is having a mid-life existential crisis. But why can't Debbie have one, too?
Dartmouth economist David Blanchflower recently co-authored a study on happiness and life satisfaction that validated the popular notion of the mid-life crisis ("Study shows depression is common in middle-age," Feb. 4). The study concluded that happiness takes a nosedive when people hit their 40s. Although Blanchflower's study found that the mid-life crisis affects both men and women, it seems that our culture only attributes the mid-life crisis to men.
For instance, in the particular brand of cinematic comedy that is in vogue right now -- films of the Judd Apatow"Seth Rogen tradition -- the men are juvenile, each one of them an overgrown man-child who yearns for a return to the days before marriage, child-rearing and responsibility. Meanwhile, women grapple with the complex issues of pregnancy, abortion and domestic responsibility while the guys long only to sneak off to play fantasy baseball and watch Spiderman 3. That's not to say that women don't want to relive their carefree college days, too; there's probably a bit of Paul Rudd in all of us.
Our insistence on outlining a distinct phase of life defined by unhappiness and disappointment is probably a bit artificial. We keep trying to partition our lives into neat stages of development, each marked by its own crises, each with its own brand of dissatisfaction. But the truth is, we will be discontented with our lives no matter how old we are -- and that's the way it should be. Whether it's not getting a sticker on the wall next to your name when you're five or feeling insecure about your job at 25 (the quarter-life crisis) or questioning the direction of your life when you're 45, the human condition is characterized by a perpetual malaise, a discontent that ultimately drives us to strive for something better. Or, in some cases, makes us want to revert to our 20-ish selves in a Van Wilder-esque attempt to never grow up.
The regression to immaturity and playful irresponsibility that defines the mid-life crisis, however, is a decidedly gendered phenomenon. To think of a middle-aged mother attempting to recapture her collegiate years by ditching her husband and hitting the bars or the bong is just weird. But when men do it, it's funny, even endearing.
Popular culture doesn't seem to give females the luxury of a mid-life crisis. Men are allowed to self-reflectively assess their lives and devolve into juvenility if necessary, while women are expected to be sensible and responsible, the grown-ups. Men are clearly given more leeway in terms of their level of maturity -- boys will be boys, right?
Even at Dartmouth, where men and women alike rage with abandon, it is true that this kind of irresponsibility is more socially acceptable among men. Perhaps the next feminist movement will involve women trying not so much to match or exceed the power and privilege that men have, but to attain the freedom and social license to be just as confused and irresponsible as they are -- or at the very least, to be able to revert to slacker mode every once in a while, when the weight of our collective eighth-, quarter- or mid-life crises become too much to bear.
In the meantime, I'll be eagerly awaiting an Apatow vehicle in which, say, two middle-aged female cops get drunk and give McLovin' a nostalgia-induced joyride.
Professor Blanchflower showed that both men and women are afflicted with existential doubts and insecurities.
Why not let the ladies indulge in a little childishness too?
