Obviously, being an adult is the best time ever. I mean, you can totally go to bed at whatever time you see fit, even if you’re well aware that most adults your age make it past 9 o’clock. Plus, you get to choose your own clothes, make ALL of your own decisions, and do whatever you want, when and where you want.
Also, these are the precise reasons why being an adult totally blows at least a third of the time.
I mean, adults are just taller, older, hairier, more disgruntled versions of kids, with slightly more life experience and a broader vocabulary. So if we’re being honest with ourselves here, we’re all just sort of going through the motions at least half of the time.
Or is it just me?
Me: “I think I ate too much frosting.”
CB: “You did what?”
Me: “I just ate some frosting and I think I ate too much because now I have a stomach ache.”
CB: “For the record, any frosting is too much frosting.”
Me: “That’s just ridiculous.”
Moaning under my breath.
Me: “Why do I do this? I’m like a child with no self-control around frosting.”
CB: “It’s true.”
Me: “And I’m really good at other parts about being an adult.”
CB: “It’s actually impressive. You’re really good at some parts of being an adult, and then the other parts seem to elude you.”
Me, offended on principle: “Hey!”
CB: “What? I said they ‘elude you’ – it’s out of your control!”
Me: “Oh. Ok. That’s fair.”
But other than eating frosting for dessert and wearing pink pants to work (they’re festive, dude), I’m pretty sure we can all get on board regarding a few other “adult” things that we’re totally all just faking.
First of all, why did I ever think that adults were good at their jobs or knew what they were doing simply because they were adults? You know why? Because adults are in charge of EVERYTHING. And that should terrify all of us.
Think about it: next time you’re going in for, like, brain surgery or something, take a good hard look at Dr. McDreamy. Why? Because I guarantee you he has at least three friends who have some sort of dirt on him that would totally either (a) get him fired or (b) make you not want him messing around in your brain. But somehow, he totally aced chem lab in college, is a natural at test-taking, and scored above average on the narcissist quiz online, and so now he’s totally in charge of brain surgery at Major Hospital Where You’re a Patient.
And I really didn’t notice this phenomenon of everyone just faking it until they were making it until I got into the professional world myself and was all like “Oh man, I don’t know how to do X, I’m a new adult!” And then I’d go ask less new adults who had been there awhile and they were like “Yeah, I do it this way, but I’m not even sure if that’s how it’s supposed to be done, so just basically figure out what works for you.”
We should all be crippled with fear.
To be fair, all of my friends and family members who are parents are kinda killing it. But I’m going to let you in on a little secret, kids. Every adult you see? Faking it. Mom and dad? Totally making up AT LEAST half of the stuff they tell you on a regular basis just so you’ll stop talking and they can have some peace and quiet and a glass of wine.
I mean, I was well into my teens before I saw a picture of my dad, riding a tricycle with a beanie on his head with a bunch of his friends. And no, he wasn’t five. He was twenty-two and about to graduate from a prestigious, non online university. Which got me to thinking: “Wait….dad was a person before he was my dad?” and it made my mind reel at the thought and so I likely just went back to watching “Melrose Place” and dreaming of Andrew Shue. Obviously.
But now, as is the cycle of life, the people I grew up doing stupid things with after sobriety had left the building are in charge of the leaders of tomorrow. And all I’d like to say now, as an adult child of parents who were totally people before I took their souls, is:
I bet my eyes totally wouldn’t have gotten stuck that way if I kept doing that, and I probably wouldn’t have puked all over the place if I’d hopped in the pool just after lunch. And you know what? I’ve jumped up and down on my bed a TON of times without it breaking, and so I call foul on that one, too!
I’d like to think that as I’ve gotten older, wiser, and less crazy, I’ve brought a level of maturity to my relationships that was lacking in the past.
Oh my God no, that’s obviously not true. I couldn’t even do that with a straight face.
|When I grow up,|
I hope I meet a boy
who digs these sorts
of hats on me.
However, I actually have learned some things along the way and, through time, patience, and a lot of laughter, think CB and I have put something together that’s pretty darned good. Also, I let him watch baseball with very little complaining and he lets me watch Bravo shows and eat frosting on his couch, so we’re obviously made for each other.
I mean, it’s possible that it’s just me, but has the dance really changed all that much since we were younger? Do any of us really know what we’re doing when it comes to courtship of any kind?
|When I grow up,|
I hope I meet a girl
who loves plaid jackets
with elbow patches.
Let me answer that question just in case you’ve never seen a reality tv program or haven't glanced at the cover of a tabloid magazine in the checkout line recently: No. No, we do not.
You see someone, you think they’re cute/ interesting/ funny/whatever floats your boat, you wonder if they find you cute/interesting/funny/whatever floats their boat, and then you both act like idiots for much longer than necessary before one or both of you fesses up and agrees to go get some coffee.
That’s pretty much it. That’s dating. The routine, the tumble, the dismount. Rinse,repeat.
Until, you know, you find someone who’s ok with your glitter shoes and whose laugh you like a lot and realize that people have gotten together over a lot less, and so you go for gold. And then you make brand new people, tell them a bunch of stuff you made up that sounds believable, and go to your job to make decisions that may or may not be correct.
Am I alone here? What do you guys think?