A Confessional: Life In Your 20’s

Driving down the 5 towards Little Italy, I find myself with many life questions circulating like a washer-rinse cycle.

I’m really just the main character with my many Indie Jams. You know that one car ride that makes you feel like there’s a camera crew outside your window filming your docu-series.

My docu-series would just be called, Lost.

It would always get confused with the hit TV series.

Critics would call it a total disaster.

I guess I was just thinking about this puzzling time I call my 20’s. We are all walking around with every day being completely and utterly unpredictable.

Some of my friends have zero clue what they are doing with their lives professionally. Most don’t have boyfriends but yearn for that.

I know your early 30’s seem to be similar to your 20’s. But from the outside: when you feel settled, in your career, in your love life, there is a sense of breathing room.

Don’t get me wrong, life is still unpredictable. Nobody would pick COVID-19 out of a line-up.

Being in your 20’s is a lot like trying to get a stuffed animal out of a claw machine in an arcade.

You are just grasping for the stuffed animals. There’s a ton of them. Hinge is crawling with different breeds.

You are ALMOST there. You go on numerous dates, to actual classy establishments, and you start to actually feel butterflies in your stomach. Shocking.

The stuffed animal drops up and down. He puts more effort in, then you put more effort in. It’s a fucking game of twister.

Then, they slip out of your grasp. He says, screw this, finds another Heather and “soft ghosts” you until you become some sort of glorified acquaintance.

To “soft ghost:” send menial text messages every few days such as “hey, what’s up,” to continue some sort of minor relationship. Your phone lights up, it’s Chad. You may think there’s a chance!

You try again and again.

But, there’s a reason there’s an infinite amount of swiping to be done.

As the late great Ariana Grande once uttered, thank u, next.

Her grammar really was impeccable.

But this claw is so tedious and so temperamental.

You drive down the freeway and just think:

“Wow, life’s a highway. I fucking love Tame Impala.”

“Fuck, there’s traffic.”

The claw, the traffic, the angst, wearing flip flops on a date, supporting Trump, saying phrases like “oh goody,” not speaking in-front of friends.

This, my friends, is dating.

It’s really fucking hard to get that stuffed animal.

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s