It sneaks up on you quieter than a greased Helen Keller.
Not unlike have asymptomatic full blown Ebola Aids, adult-ness is something that you never realize you have until it’s too late.
There is no sweet transition into the peaceful and responsible life of a real adult.
There is no school demonstration about the magic and natural wonder of online banking and bill pay.
There is only road rage, mystery rashes, and the punch in the face that growing older brings.
For the first time, you’re not acting older than you are, because you’re the age you once pretended to be. You spend your adolescence trying so hard to feel, look, and act like an adult that when it finally happens, you feel like you had amnesia for 7 years.
One day you’re at the Prom being felt up by a running back wearing a tux with a questionable history and then–BLAM MOTHAFUCKA–taxes and yard work. You go from genuinely caring about The Real World to the state of health insurance, your yard, and does-this-mole-look-funny-to-you.
Some of your high school friends get divorced for the second time. You purchase an area rug. You use vacation days for vacations and not for hangovers.
You. Are. Old.
The Entire World’s A Jackass Party
Growing up, you think of adults as people who have all the answers. The school system, organized sports, and parents who are scared that you’ll end up like them hump “goal-setting” and “ideals” into your brain like it’s the password into Alan Rickman’s pants.
You listened, you set your goals, you get your jobs, and then you realize that not a goddamn one of us has any clue what we’re doing and promptly shit all your goals and ideals right out the window.
The very second you set foot in your first real job, it becomes horrifically apparent that literally every adult in the world has their thumb up their asses. Every single one of us is getting by one day at a time, and hoping no one else knows we don’t know what we’re doing. You feel very connected to humanity in that moment.
Until you realize that these people also run your government.
It’s 5 AM, And I’m All Alone
Eating alone for the first time, sleeping in your own lonely apartment for the first time, even grocery shopping alone for the first time brings a sense of thrill. You’re doing this on your own! You can take on the world!
Enter the flu. You’re miserable and you’re more lonely than you ever thought you could be.
There’s nothing worse than the first time you get sick by yourself. You want to curl up in bed and never move again, but you are the only one there to care for you. No one to bring you drinks or blankets or popsicles. You take yourself to the doctor. You lament in your death-bed, sure that no one will even know you’ve died until 2 weeks later.
You are suddenly aware that it’s just you, your toilet, and all the sadness the world has ever known.
It’s Your 22nd Birthday! *Fart Noise*
Working up to adulthood feels like a fucking treasure hunt of hormones.
Driver’s License? GAINED.
21st Birthday? IT’S THE FINAL BOSS, Y’ALL. Yes, bartender, I WILL HAVE ALL OF THE BEERS HERE. You want to dance? Well I’m gonna FUCK THE FLOOR. Tits for shots? I CALL THE LEFT ONE HELGA. Every birthday builds to that very point and you make it awesome.
And then you turn 22. And no one gives a shit, least of all you.
Once you defeat your 21st, you realize there’s no more birthdays to be excited for. You’re done with your treasure hunt, and now you’re one step closer to your joints hurting when it rains.
And it sucks a little.
I Am, Quite Suddenly, Too Old For This Shit
Someday, you’ll be stuck in a waiting room, a meeting, a classroom, or a line, and you realize you’re the oldest one there. You’ll figure this out because you hate everyone there. They’re all idiots, and you feel like an ancient relic.
This is the day you realize that music, movies, and TV shows are unbelievably shit-tastic. This is the day you learn that someone who you could have babysat is famous. This is the day someone tell you when they were born and you realize–that’s the year you graduated.
Maybe you’ll try to relate to them to make yourself feel better. You’ll spout a line from a classic comedy, and they’ll stare at you like you just ripped open Pandora’s Life-Alert and let all the old out. Their celebrities, their music, their clothes–all of them make you crotchety-old-man mad.
Thankfully, that’s also the day you realize you don’t fucking care. Fuck those kids with their Beibers and their assholery. You’re a goddamn adult. You can stay up all night watching Bravo! and Netflix, you can eat as much chocolate-covered bacon tarts you want, you can afford better booze than Boone’s Farm then drink it whenever you want.
Just maybe not tonight though. You do have to work tomorrow.