I've been thinking, and joking, a lot lately about things I do and say that sometimes make me take a step back and go, "Holy crap. When did I become an adult?" Some things are funny, and some make me sad, but they are all inevitable proof that, for better or worse, I have grown and changed more in these past few years than I sometimes realize.
For instance, I now get really excited when I buy new things for my house; a new vacuum, a coffee maker, a new painting that sets off the color of my throw pillows on my couch. I mean, the fact that I even HAVE throw pillows on my couch is proof enough. I even got ridiculously excited when I discovered the, well... magic... of Mr. Clean's Magic Erasers. (I mean, it took all the stains off the walls! ALL of them! It was fucking incredible!) And I always buy everything on sale after conducting a thorough price comparison cross-check via the internet to make sure I'm getting the lowest price. (Hello, 20% off coupon for Bed, Bath and Beyond. If you had the right parts, I would marry you.) Gone are the days when I'd blow my paycheck on a cute pair of shoes. Now, I do things like budget, and save, and clip coupons, and while yes, these are very smart things to do, they make me feel like a responsible adult.
Gross.
My drunken nights out on Water Street and North Avenue have turned into one glass of wine after dinner, which usually leads to yawning around 10 pm. If I make it to 11, it's generally only because an attractive man is involved. (Not to mention the fact that I originally wrote "cute boy" instead of "attractive man", which briefly made me feel like a pedophile, prompting me to go back and edit. Ka-blamo. Further proof.) And when I do go out and get a little crazy, it takes me a minimum of two days, 20+ hours of sleep, and shit-ton of coconut water & ibuprofen to recover.
I get more bills in the mail than anything else. I have a filing cabinet with file folders inside with labels that say things like 401K, Health and Life Insurance, Medical Records, and Warranties. Teenagers piss me off. I say things like, "God, remember the 90's? Skip-It's and C&C Music Factory and Hammer Pants and Saved By the Bell? And we actually played outside instead of playing video games all day? Things were so much simpler back then." I buy shoes that are comfortable and easy to walk in instead of just slutty hot. I cook for myself, and "cooking" means veggies and meats and complex carbs, not just throwing a pizza in the oven. I go to bed early during the week, and never get drunk on a night when I have to work the next day. I mispronounce band names like Skrillex (Skill-Rex. True story. I still can't say it right to this day.) And, neither last nor least, but as a way of wrapping up this list for now, I worry about things like eating organic food, avoiding GMO's, and using water and air filters in my house to avoid toxins.
All of these things are funny for me to realize, usually prompting me to laugh and shake my head and then check my face for premature wrinkles. (I have the worst crow's feet already, but I like to think they're from smiling too much, and I'm okay with that. I find them kind of endearing.) But there are somethings about being a somewhat-responsible, nearly-thirty-year-old adult that I really struggle with... like love.
Especially love.
How, ten years ago, all it took was a mutual interest and attraction, and you were willing to give a relationship a try. Now, you have a list to check off, and with every item on that list, the pool of eligible men gets smaller and smaller. How now, you're no longer dating just for fun; you're dating because you want to find someone to share the rest of your life with. How because of that, you're pickier than you ever were before, but you have to be, because if you're not, at least on some level, you'll never find the person who is right for you. I've dabbled in online dating recently, and I didn't realize until I started filling out my profile just how many things I had on that list. He has to be able to, at least for the most part, spell correctly and use appropriate punctuation. Preferably someone who is college-educated with some type of professional career. Dogs, no cats. Divorced or never married, that doesn't matter, as long as he can make me laugh. That one's a must. A bit of humbleness wouldn't hurt. Kindness is important. Willing to make his relationship a priority in his life. Financially stable. Doesn't live with his parents. Wants to have kids. Faithful. Patient, because I am most definitely not. Doesn't do drugs. Willing to compromise and try new things. Someone active and at least semi health-conscious. There are all these things that I'd like the man that I marry to have, and yes, on some, I am willing to compromise. But it's both crazy and somewhat of a relief to look at that list. It's crazy, because I'm scared I'll never find someone who meets at least the important ones, and enough of the unimportant ones to not drive me crazy on a daily basis. It's a relief, because something good did come out of all of those not-so-healthy relationships; I can finally stop wasting my time and call it quits when I discover true deal-breakers instead of having to test the waters each time to see if I can handle them or not.
And how most nights, I'd rather cuddle, because as I get older, emotional and physical intimacy begin to become more important than just getting laid.
How, as an adult, you get to a point when you realize how difficult love can really be; and no matter how much you want to believe it, sometimes, love doesn't always find a way. How you can understand that someone is selfish and damaged and completely and totally wrong for you on every single level, and still love them anyway, so much, while simultaneously forcing yourself to turn around and walk away; and how, in that moment, love and hate become two entities that are no longer mutually exclusive. These days, even in my weakest moments, I am learning to stay far away from those men when they enter my life, because even though sometimes it's hard to let go of something so potentially beautiful, knowing we would burn so brightly for a while, I am finally learning to love myself first and foremost, and I know that giving in will accomplish nothing; all I will end up with is a hell of a lot of heartache and "what coulda been's" and empty handfuls of wasted time.
Because what proves to me more than any of the above that I've finally become an adult is that I'm learning to the right things for me, even though it's almost never easy. In fact, it's generally the more difficult path to take... but I am learning to take it, anyway.
Because what proves to me more than any of the above that I've finally become an adult is that I'm learning to the right things for me, even though it's almost never easy. In fact, it's generally the more difficult path to take... but I am learning to take it, anyway.
It would appear that purging all these thoughts has allowed me to settle down enough to get some sleep. I am exhausted. But I got a kick-ass workout in today, and I made it to 12:30 am, and neither of those things involved an attractive man.
This one's for the books, kids. Sweet Dreams. :)
