All these “dos and don’ts in your twenties” articles are really starting to piss me off. Why just your twenties? Why not for the rest of your life let stupid societal constraints go to hell? How about we start taking charge of our lives in the present and embrace the fact that shit will only get harder. We my as well buy a really expensive bottle of wine, let our debit cards overdraft and still try to save for that posh trip to Spain that we dreamt about after smoking opium during our freshman year of college. Your twenties are a decade of discovering adulthood and so are your thirties and forties. Spoiler alert: so are your fifties and sixties and hopefully your seventies. Set the bar incredibly high because you feel like it, stay out late to rebel against “responsibility” and find a sublet to get out of your parent’s basement. Boom. Three things every twenty something trying to find themselves in a buzzfeed countdown should do.
As far as I am concerned, Nate thinks that his behavior is fiiiiiine. Just fiiiiiine.
I came to this realization last night when his friend asked me questions that one would normally receive at a backyard bar-bq where couples stand next to each other, hold their drinks in their left hand and nod profusely with relaxed smiles. For the record, when I hang out with Nate, none of the aforementioned “couple things” ever fucking happen. When we hang out, its a very similar picture to Adam and Hannah from Girls. Only, I am not as out-there as Hannah and he is not as adamant about having sex as Adam (see what I did there?).
I am trying really hard to be honest with this situation. The word situation, by the way, makes me cringe. Is this a situation or this a normal thing that most early twenties kids go through in order to discover themselves? Lets take a step back and really look at this, shall we:
Nate has aspergers and OCD and a smaller than average penis. He also has a tendency to break down ev-er-e-thing I say about ev-er-e-thing. One would assume that someone like myself should already be on to the next one. But there is something about this guy that cracked an endless possibilities egg over my head.
Yes, he took my printer cable cord and tied my hands with it. Yes, he spit on my floor. Yes, he actively pursues making my coworkers feel less than stellar about their bar tending abilities (so he thinks?). Yes, he cares about me (I think?).
I’m tired of hearing about ideals. What the fuck does ideal even mean in 2014? My generation is trudging through society in a time of great uncertainty and people are only going to get weirder. Frat boys will eventually die out like dinosaurs while presumptuous hipsters could take over the world. Sorry for the stereotype digression.
Bringing it all back together, he is no where near ideal and he may not understand what I need right now but I am pretty damn sure the guy either hates me or love me. As a slightly crazy, insanely fickle woman, those questions his friend asked me earlier solidifies the fact that all is fiiiiine and the cable cord may return, just like his sense of self and my tenacity towards buying a house plant.