Boys are Mean & Dating is Scary

Sometimes life gives you lemons. From what I hear you’re supposed to use these lemons to make lemonade, but I prefer cutting them up and simply putting a lemon wedge into a vodka tonic.  As a 22-year-old post-graduate unemployed female I know three things: 1. Lip liner is actually super-important. 2. Coffee is everything good and wonderful about the world. And 3. I know absolutely nothing. About anything. At all. (I try to hide that last bit of wisdom from any and all possible future employers, but you win some you lose some.)

In “the real world” and out of college for approximately six months, I realized that college taught me absolutely nothing about being an adult. Want to know all the parts of the human brain? Sure thing! Want me to do my taxes on time so I don’t get arrested and go to jail? Wait, say what, no one told me there was a due date.

So far the only things I’ve really learned is that being an “real adult” means I can get Taco Bell whenever I want, milk expires hella fast and boys are mean and dating is scary. For a while I thought I was the only one confused and lost and losing at the dating game, but the more I began to talk to my friends (both male and female) and began to learn that no one knows what the fuck is going on.

The more I talked to my friends I began to piece together that the early twenties era is terrifying, dangerous and a twisted puzzle for pretty much everyone I knew. No one was safe from this plague also referred to as the “twenty-somethings” and no one knew the cure. Some conversations touched on the less-than-perfect beginning of our careers, some about what the latest Beyonce gossip was, but all conversations ended up on the same topics: relationships, dating and love in general.

Every text is analyzed word for word, but no one knows what anyone is talking about. “Good Morning” texts are considered extreme effort; flowers and dates are a forgotten art form. Being hard to get is “cool”- a competition of who can act like they care less in an effort to get the other’s attention. It’s a game of sorts, but no one can tell anyone else the rules, the score or the playing field.

We can’t ask our parents for advice, because the world is so different now. A phone call is replaced with the expectation of constant texting. Instagram “likes” are associated with flirtation, a Tweet with a few song lyrics is associated with a deeper meaning. (No, I swear, I was just listening to Dashboard Confessional for fun; don’t worry about me guys.)

The point is, I’m surrounded by “things will get better” and “you’ll meet someone when the time is right” quotes all the time. But I’m also surrounded by Facebook photos of large engagement rings on the hands of girls my age.  (Fuck all of you, but I hope you have a happy marriage and please invite me to the wedding.) Those positive vibes and delicate words of encouragement are great and all, and I’m thankful for them. But I think we can all agree that the “you’re young, it will all work out” monologue is still not a super-hot boyfriend who is as obsessed with all of your selfies as you are, tells you you’re “pretty af” and pays for your extra guac at Chipotle. And that’s rough.