We Asked 20-Somethings What They Think Their 30s Will Be Like

When I was eighteen, I harbored a strict timeline: if I wasn’t married between thirty and thirty-four, I was objectively failing at life. Now, at a ripe age of twenty-five, my goals are changing. Instead of marriage, I dream of owning a Kees van der Westen Speedster espresso machine. I picture myself sipping an espresso while looking out the window of my apartment with sweeping Manila skyline views, entirely unbothered by the milestones I used to think defined adulthood. The lack of a conventional timeline simply doesn’t faze me anymore. 

I know I am not the only one rethinking my life choices. Armed with the modest authority of a writer and a wildly eclectic social circle, I’ve decided to make other people’s business everyone’s business. I asked seven individuals, all deep in the trenches of their twenties, to fire up their imaginations and project themselves a decade down the road. To their credit, almost nobody tried to sound impressive. Honesty, it turns out, is the only policy left when you realize we are all trapped on the same beautiful, sinking ship.

The Optimist Who Wants It All

Adrian, 27, is one of the few people I met who are certain about liking his own trajectory—a trait that might make a few readers deeply envious. He found the love of his life early and is now engaged. By thirty, he sees himself married, ideally in a gorgeous home he owns, and running his own cash cow business. His weekends still belong to sports and leisure.

“It feels like my 20s have been about learning, having too much fun, making mistakes, and building a foundation,” he says. “I hope my 30s are where everything starts to compound.” What terrifies him isn’t aging; it’s the threat of being too serious like the adults we are so used to living with. He wants his thirty-year-old self to look back at present-day Adrian and laugh, the way you laugh at old selfies with your bad haircut and outfit. 

In his most honest, unhinged confession, he admits he’ll still be doomscrolling online shops at midnight, because some shopping compulsions, unlike careers, don’t get laid off. They just get bigger as your paycheck increases.

The Skeptic Who Just Wants to Be Himself 

Jack, 25, recently returned from a spiritual retreat in Bali. After a week of wearing all-white linens and doing 6 a.m. yoga while staring at the sunrise, he swears he’s a lot less cynical now. While he used to vow he’d never get married, he now concedes he might settle down if he finds “the one.” When I asked him what his thirties look like, he just said, “Probably the same apartment, and a therapist I actually show up for.” 

He’s not scared of turning thirty so much as he is terrified of turning into his father’s LinkedIn profile—all caps corporate job titles and hollow metrics. What he’s genuinely excited about is something smaller and stranger: not having to explain his career choices at family dinners anymore, or at least being tired enough of the questions to stop flinching. His unhinged truth? He still secretly wants to be a famous painter. For the right artistic reasons, of course.

The Six-Figure Dreamer 

Ethan, 22, has a version of thirty that comes with a long-term gorgeous girlfriend turned wife, a passport heavy with international stamps, and a level of income where money finally stops being background noise. He wants to marry his partner, have children, and, in his words, “make enough to heal his inner child while raising an actual one”—which is easily the healthiest, most mature sentence I’ve ever heard from a twenty-two-year-old. 

His unhinged financial fantasy is predictably ambitious: pulling six to seven figures a month. Honestly, given the sheer entrepreneurial spirit he displays while aggressively negotiating a 200-peso parking fee in Poblacion, it feels entirely possible. “I also imagine myself answering emails from a beach in Europe, hitting the gym five times a week, sleeping eight hours a night, being a present husband and father, and still having time to watch random YouTube videos at 2:00 a.m.,” he adds. Complete, effortless balance. It’s a lifestyle so idyllic we should probably build a podcast around it.

The Woman with a Very Specific Vision

Yna’s brain works like a data center. “I just turned 28 this year. So thirty, for me, looks like a fully paid Ford Escort, dual citizenship, and intimate dinner parties in my apartment.” She’d love to be a good host, serving Pinot Noir that goes along with her risotto. Love? She’ll only entertain the idea if the man brings significantly more to the table than she already has. 

She actively embraces the concept of aging: no Botox, no fillers, just good preventative skincare and a healthy diet. Her genuine excitement is almost embarrassingly wholesome: Pickleball Saturdays and dedicated pamper days on Sundays. Her unhinged addendum? She is currently deeply obsessed with Chinese dramas and hopes to marry a handsome leading man from one. In fact, she was actively booking a flight to Beijing as we spoke.

The One Who Wants to Do Everything 

Miguel’s vision of thirty is freakishly well-rounded: a career he takes pride in, with his creative hobbies perfectly intact. He’s about to turn 25 this year. What keeps him up at night isn’t the picture itself; it’s the math of fitting it all in. Going STEM is the plan, he says, half-laughing, hoping to be genuinely good at it and genuinely paid for it. 

Yet, a brilliant Plan B runs quietly in the background just in case the creative path takes off. Acting? Music? DJ mixers every Friday night? I’ve seen him do it, and I’m pretty sure he can ace it. For Miguel, the sky is the limit; he is the ultimate multitasker. Plans for marriage get a shrug, filed somewhere below “figure out which career is the real one.” When I am fully settled into my own thirties, he’s the exact friend I’ll want to grab a pint of Corona with whenever I need a good laugh. 

The Wildcard With Expensive Taste 

Aaron, 25, a friend whom I haven’t spoken to in ages (actual time elapsed: four weeks), gave me the most GQ-brained answer of the bunch. “I picture myself in Dolce, Gucci, Dior. Maybe a tad bit of Bottega. I like to be everywhere all at once. Just like Jesus.” 

He is weirdly excited by the idea of still being surprised by his own life at thirty. His biggest fantasy: “A 1966 Lamborghini Miura.” His unhinged truth: he still follows his ex on a burner account, secretly one-upping her Instagram feed. It’s wonderfully petty, and it’s a habit he’ll likely be unpacking well into his next decade.

The One Who Just Wants a Nice Kitchen 

Alyessea, 27, is a marine biologist. She might have given me the rawest of raw answers out of the bunch. “I don’t imagine my 30s will be as different as they were in my 20s,” she tells me. Aly doesn’t expect her next decade to swing as unpredictably as this one did. She suspects she’ll still be living abroad, still figuring it out in real time. “I do imagine having a really nice kitchen with very nice stainless steel cookware and some quality Japanese knives.” Simple, conducive to a peaceful life. 

What she’s actually afraid of isn’t chaos, but the opposite. Everything changing, or nothing changing at all, is equally unsettling. She’d absorbed the whole “be like water” Bruce Lee philosophy a little too literally. Success, an intangible idea that people often hold onto, can actually take shape in many different forms. Expectations, on the other hand, she’s learned, are just disappointments waiting to happen.

My Two Cents 

Married, single, rich in theory, rich in spirit, somewhere local, somewhere foreign. We are still posting our milestone progress on the internet regardless. If there’s a pattern here, it’s this: nobody’s actually afraid of turning thirty anymore. We’re just discovering that life keeps moving forward. 

As for me, I’m starting on my retirement savings. I quit smoking—every month, without fail. I live in the sharp contrasts of life. I enjoy savoring a purple Carménère while drinking it from a cheap paper cup. I admire the conflict of aspiring to be ruthlessly ambitious while still craving a peaceful, quiet life. I smile. Sip. Read. Laugh. I let the room burn a little. Because I know I’ll be just fine.