Perhaps when I was younger, I had guilty pleasures. But now, as a mid-century adult? Nope. If it's a pleasure, I'm not going to feel guilt.
There are definite times when guilt invades my life. For example, when I recognize I could have been kinder to someone in pain. Or when I don't take action (through laziness, usually, or being too rushed to do it now and then forgetting) that would help someone. There are fleeting flashes when I get one of those pleading letters or emails (or, now FB posts) asking for help that I could give, when I know it's a worthy cause but not my cause. That's it.
I don't feel guilty if I break my diet. I don't feel guilty when I fail to live up to my standards. I don't feel guilty when I watch pure trash (ok, what I think of as trash) on tv rather than actually getting things done. I don't feel guilty when I take a mental health day at work. Rather, I might feel pleasure with a tinge or embarrassed or defensive or ashamed or sad. But not guilty. Because I'm in my mid 50s. And part of being an adult is admitting that something gives you pleasure and enjoying that.