I never had more fun while suffering fewer consequences than when I was in HS, age 14-18.
18-22, definitely. Sometimes I think back to those days with such a longing, such a yearning to have a chance to relive them that it’s almost painful. It’s not that they were completely uncomplicated and pain free, but it’s true that youth is wasted on the young. The way I looked, the figure I had, the glorious first summer with the love of my life, the first foreign holiday, the sex, the parties… Oh, what fun times.
Now I’m a single, overweight, 46 year old widow living with three cats. I’ve got a good life, but sometimes it breaks my heart that I’ll never get a chance to relive being 20.
And I could do with a shag.
I associate “good old days” with not having cares, too. So, my college days definitely. I love my life now, these are the good new days, but I sure had a good time.
Same here. I’m a newlywed with a new house, three happy cats and a good job. Health is decent, family is good, and I’m thinking about getting a family of my own cooking soon. Life is pretty good right now, really. I complain about a lot but this is probably the happiest and most stable I’ve ever been.
My childhood was mediocre, my adolescence was traumatic and frankly I’m lucky to have gotten through it as little scarred as I did, and my 20s were decent but dizzying. I just hit 30 last year and it’s going great so far!
For me its not an age thing so I didn’t vote.
The best three periods of my life were…
When I was at sea.
When I first worked at a holiday camp.
When I was a soldier.
This is a difficult question for me.
I chose 18-22 because I was out of school, and I was over the worst of my panic attacks. The spirit-draining cesspit of office employment hadn’t taken full hold on me yet. And I was a happy Doctor Who-ite, in love with Tom Baker, and enjoying many a sci-fi convention.
However, Prozac was not yet in the picture, so I had a lot of dark times.
Since Prozac, and its various incarnations afterwards until now, things are stabilized if not actually “golden”. Perhaps I’ll get a golden age in the future, but I’m not holding my breath.
I would have been tempted to pick the last option if it didn’t have the frowny-face by it.
I didn’t really have “good old days”—but not because I was always miserable, though there were periods that kinda sucked. I had a good childhood, and there are lots of things from it that I miss and look back fondly on. But, frankly, I’m better at being an adult than I was at being a kid (and definitely better at being an adult than I was at being a teenager).
Between ages 24 and 28. I was carefree, had a good income, interesting job, great girlfriend, lived in a fantastic place.
Right now. Seriously. It’s all been building towards this 
I cannot answer. Each period of my life is a special treasure all its own (except for Texas, but even then my undergrad university was great). I sometimes wonder if I’m living my good old days now. Perhaps even better times will come, and my good old days will be in my 60s, looking back at them from my 80s. Or maybe my 80s, looking back from my 100th birthday.
Annoyingly, it took until 30ish for me to feel particularly comfortable in my own head, so the days have been good since I’ve been that old (34 now).
Around 23, all I did was play video games and write fiction. I became a pretty good writer. However, real life intruded and I had to earn money. Years later, when I tried to write again, the magic was gone. Work, marriage, and grad school changed the way my brain worked, and I just couldn’t write the way I used to. I often dig out my old stories and wonder how I did what I did back then.
No time like the present.
My early thirties, when I gained a little wisdom and lived as a single parent with a decent job. I was still young enough that I got out and had fun, but I’d outgrown partying.
A few years before anxiety completely took over my life.