As an adult woman, I think we should all play mermaids

Or pirates. Or robots. Or whatever you want, really.

A week ago, I was hiding from the pouring rain under the sparse branches of a scraggly beach pine on one of the Greek islands. A woman approached me and asked if she could stand beside me. Abigail, as she introduced herself, was from Australia and worked as a pediatrician. While we waited for the bus, we quickly became cold, wet, and dirty.

“Should we just swim instead?” she said.

And just like that, two minutes after shaking hands, we were running towards the water in the rain.

As we swam, she yelled, “Oh naur, Cleo!” in her perfect Australian accent. I laughed. Soon after, we were playing full-scale mermaids—describing each other’s tails, doing tricks underwater, and building scenarios. Abigail is 30. I’m 23.

Most of us had our last real play around age 9. After that, we only played with kids or nieces and nephews, constantly distracted by adult demands and a lack of time. Some of us incorporate play into adult activities: brainstorming at work, amateur sports, sexual role-play, or adding a new spice to a recipe. But these are often goal-directed activities and can’t really be called true play.

Play is done for its own sake, with no expectation of outcomes or reactions from others. It allows you to get absorbed in the moment, losing track of time. Adult play helps reduce stress, boost energy, improve brain function, connect with others, and spark creativity. In fact, creativity and play are so intertwined that it’s hard to separate them.

Children are naturally playful. They can gather, create an entire world to play in for two hours, and go home without feeling the need to share the experience with anyone. Adults, however, always seem to have someone to report to—whether it’s a partner, a boss, or even their Instagram followers. When the fear of criticism or the desire for approval kicks in, real play becomes impossible.

For a long time, I associated being playful with negative stereotypes. I was afraid of being seen as childish, irresponsible, or unserious. I thought my friends would never join me. But gradually, I began inviting them, starting with my closest friends and ending with Abigail, whom I had met just five minutes before. I offered different activities, from mermaids to coloring to board games to parallel play. Some friends laughed, but most joined in.

Now I know that pediatricians, engineers, waiters, HR specialists, and other serious people all like to play.

Wanna play together?