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Thirty – the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand. (7.308)
Having seen the wrong end of thirty, Shmoop can assure Nick that it really isn't that bad. But at least he has someone to keep him company, right? Well, yeah—until things start going south and she's out. (But Nick is totally right about all the thirty-something men being married. Just saying.)
"She's not leaving me!" Tom's words suddenly leaned down over Gatsby. "Certainly not for a common swindler who'd have to steal the ring he put on her finger."
"I won't stand this!" cried Daisy. "Oh, please let's get out." (7.275-281)
And one last proof that Tom sees marriage as an economic exchange: he's "bought" Daisy honestly, but Gatsby would have to buy her dishonestly. No word on what Daisy wants, of course.
"What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon?" cried Daisy, "and the day after that, and the next thirty years?"
"Don't be morbid," Jordan said. "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." (7.74-75)
Daisy sees life as an unending round of boredom that eventually ends in death; Jordan sees it as a constant cycle of renewal. Too bad they're both miserable.