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.
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.”
Me: “Why do I do this? I’m like a child with no self-control
CB: “It’s true.”
Me: “And I’m really good at other parts about being an
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
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
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
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,
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?