Whoever convinced me to write my thesis, take 16 hours of esl training, 2 classes, work 20+ hours per week, babysit, volunteer, start crossfit, date a new boy, start a new diet, look for jobs, throw parties, take a scuba course, learn guitar, learn to twerk and not care about how over committed I am… They really have their priorities out of whack.
The Belgian chocolate scandal continues!
So, last weekend I went to dinner with McLovin (the boy who I had previously mentioned sent really expensive chocolates). I had already written him that I didn’t feel that way about him. He was mad for awhile but I took this as an acknowledgment that he wanted to maintain a friendship. Well, captain awkward doesn’t pick up on social cues, tried to kiss me goodnight and asked me out for lunch during the week. This means that I had to explain it all over again. Twice! Two times! Dos! Que?
Last night he calls Lauren D and asks her to dinner. This is three Lauren’s which he has been actively interested in within he month. I live with one, work with the other and we are all in the same program! Does he seriously think we don’t rage about the absurdity of this??
Homeboy needs a buddy. Preferably whose name is not Lauren.
My friend caters as a part time job. He had a new experience with sexual harassment.
A female coworker corned him first to compliment him on his eyes. To be fair the boy does have stunningly blue eyes. However, the second time she cornered him she gently caressed his face and whispered. “I wish your ass hole was an apple and my tongue was a worm.”
That may be the most bazaar analogy that I have ever ever heard.
Within the past 36hours I have heard from every man who has expressed interested in me in the past year. This has concluded with two free dinners and a dozen red roses. This semester may be the best ever.
I was dreading my high school reunion. However, I sucked it up. Put on my tall shoes and big girl blazer and strutted it up into the crowd of married an successful.
Luckily, I found out not everyone is married, nor successful and pretty much everyone is more fun.
One boy who we in high school addressed as the “jolly rancher” because he was born in the uk, moved to Texas when he was three and still has a British accent. Hence jolly- rancher. Anyways, he’s moved out to LA to make it in Hollywood but the only gig he got was to get his face scanned in for a video game. The catch is, they didn’t tell him his role or which video game. I’m convinced the one day I sit down to play mortal combat I’m gonna be hunting the jolly rancher for my high school AP algebra class.
I hadn’t seen my one high school boyfriend since before we broke up over the phone freshman year of college. I’m pretty sure I was driving to move into school thinking about how I didn’t want to turn someone down because I’m dating someone whose highest goal in life is to be a professional paint ball player. Anyways, in a hilarious twist of fate, he now makes six figures as a real estate agent in my hometown. Pocket squares, wing tipped shoes and all. Thank Jesus he instagrams his and his girlfriends outfits. That’s what keeps me going.
Everyone else was basically telling me their engagement stories. Vom. Oops sorry, I’m a 23 year old not baby maker. Thanks.
“This is what your 20s are for — to feel and see as much as you can, to take advantage of not being tied down to anything or anyone, and to go balls to the wall with everything you do. You’re a raw nerve. You hate getting upset over little things — about becoming constantly unraveled by ignored text messages, parents, grades, and friends. But you have to remember something: you don’t know yourself entirely yet. Before you entered your 20s, you were mostly under your parents’ care, a reflection of what was going on around you. You didn’t have the option to make your own choices. You were merely living the life someone set out for you. Being in your 20s allows you to start carving out the life you want for yourself. Everything is on your terms now. It seems daunting, but it’s actually liberating. For the first time in your life, you’re the boss.
It’s important to talk about why our 20s are great because it seems like we spend so much of our time wanting to be somewhere other than where we are. Think about it. Why the hell are we in such a hurry to live[…]”
“amazing, but don’t think for a seco“some boring, grown-up adult life that we saw at a Crate & Barrel? Because once we do get there, we’re stuck for a long time. The novelty’s going to wear off, we’re going to get married and have babies, and everything and that you won’t be nostalgic for this time. Don’t think for a second that you’re not going to miss those nights you spent putting on your make up, changing five million times, drinking wine, smoking cigarettes out your apartment window, and going to some silly party, a party that feels like all the others you’ve been to but still has the right to feel special. You will miss all of this. This is a luxury. It’s going to leave you eventually so you better freaking enjoy it. You better enjoy every lame-ass party, every awkward kiss, every 5 a.m. hangover, every drug experience, every crappy apartment, because one day it will all be gone and you’ll just be left with the pictures and the bruises and nothing else. Youth is fucking magic. Don’t you get it? Look at your skin! Touch it. Look at your smooth legs and stomach. Grab it. When you’re older, you’ll want all of this again, so bad. You might even spend money to get some semblance of it back. But now it’s yours for free.
We’re not stuck. Even if it feels like we are, it’s not true. We’re the opposite of stuck. As 20-somethings, we’re constantly moving — apartments, relationships, cities, jobs. Anything is possible. People are ready for you. They want to hear what you have to say. They look at you and are curious about the words that are going to come out of your mouth. You’re the new generation. What do you have to say? Don’t bite your tongue. One day you’ll be pushed aside for a younger, “fresher” perspective, so you better get it out now. Make a mark. Make a stain. Make something.
Remember the fear, remember the promise, remember the nights you wanted to curl up in a ball, remember the people you’re not supposed to remember, remember not knowing yourself, remember the moment you started to feel safe and like this life you’re leading is really yours. You’re going to be scared, you’re going to bruise your knees and not know how it happened, you’re going to try fruitlessly to forge a connection with someone who won’t ever get it, you’re going to lose the person who means the most to you, and then you’ll find your way back to them. You’re going to be a 20-something because that’s what you are and all you know how to be. You should love every single moment of this hot mess of a decade. Chances are you’ll miss it before you even get to say “I’m 30.”
Excerpt from twenty-something
sweetnc 