Thought Catalog


You Are A Frighteningly Beautiful Wild Thing

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 08:00 PM PST

LiatAharoni_FlightOfFancy
Liat Aharoni

There are boys
who are going to promise you
forevers in song,
in poetry,
in words that are just so damned pretty
they will be hard to resist.

You're their dream girl.
Beautiful, strong, independent.
Forever, they sigh, forever.

But their forevers come
with hidden terms and conditions, their love is a secret contract,
with addendum and asterisks.

Forever is only
until you start dreaming too much, talking too loudly,
kissing too strongly,
and debating too heatedly.

It's not girl-like, they will say,
you're hard to understand, they will rationalise,
impossible for anyone to put up with
let alone love.

Can’t you be beautiful in limitation?
Strong sometimes but weak more often?
Independent whilst being helpless?

They will ask you to be
all these impractical things
without thinking that these
are all the same qualities
they once fell in love with.

They are going to make you doubt yourself, beautiful.
And even then, even when they have wronged you,
misunderstood your debates for insolence
misinterpreted your strength for arrogance,
you will reach inside yourself
to find the things they are looking for,
because you want — you need to be loved.

You will learn to talk quietly,
love gingerly,
dream a little less,
let him kiss you instead.

Stop.

You do not need to change yourself,
for boys who fell in love with
a beautiful, wild thing
that they are too ill equipped
and must cage to ‘handle’.

You do not make yourself less
when you are a comet filled with such power and intensity,
that you are
waiting to blaze
across this universe.

You are unexplored, unusual
and frighteningly beautiful.
And only a few will understand
the way to love you
without breaking you
and making you dangerous.TC mark

Maybe You And I Don’t Get Another Universe

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 07:00 PM PST

jeronimo sanz
jeronimo sanz

We all love the Theory Of Multiple Universes.

We loved it when William James coined it. We loved it when Gaby Dunn wrote her heartbreaking multiverse manifesto. We loved it when Kovie Biakolo claimed she'd choose this Universe, above all possible others.

We love the theory of multiple universes because it allows us to believe that all the people we didn't become, all the roads we didn't take, all the times we turned left when we should have turned right, didn't wither and die a senseless death. We like to believe that somewhere out there, there's a Universe where we get to have made the other choice. The one that might have changed us. Grown us. Made us into bigger, braver people than the ones who we became instead.

These other, hypothetical universes allow us so many leniencies. They are where we can go to unload our hearts and our failures and regrets. In some Universe, these choices are not mine. In some lifetime, I did it all better.

I used to believe that there were so many Universes for you and I.

There was the one where we held it together. The one where we stuck around, worked it out, ironed out our heartbreaks and forgave one another for it all.

There was the one where there was nothing to forgive – where we grew up as slowly as we needed to, never had to turn against each other, didn't have greater ambitions or wandering eyes or weary, mismatched hopes clasped too tightly to our chests. One where everything happened the way it was supposed to.

There was the one where it was simpler, easier, pure. The one where we wanted the same things, laughed at the same jokes, loved each other's families as if they were our own. Where my ambitions didn't push you out of the picture and where your insipid lack of confidence didn't tear us apart at the seams. In that Universe, we have cats. I seem like more of a cat person in that Universe.

I have driven myself mad over the years, mapping out all of these Universes for you and I. If-only this. What-if-I'd that. Tracing and trailing through our history, there are so many moments where our galaxies split in half. Where our stars realigned and our planets shifted swiftly and we found ourselves on wildly different courses than the ones we should have taken.

But we don't live in any of those Universes.

We live in this one, the one where we lost each other.

And this has been the hardest Universe to swallow.

Out of all of all possible Universes, we landed in the one that broke us. The one where two halves did not make a whole and every molehill turned into a mountain. This is the Universe where in ten hundred thousand tiny ways, we were wrong for each other. It's the one where we’re always going to be.

I think that so many lovers get those alternate Universes, where they are happier and freer and more fulfilled by each other's side. But I like to think we don't get one. I like to think that no matter which roads we'd taken, which decisions we'd made, which errors of judgment we'd reversed, there isn't a Universe out there that could possibly have saved us.

I want us to be that single glitch in the matrix. I want it to all be far out of our control.

Because the thing about loving you is that I'd have waded through an infinite number of Universes trying to find the one that's right for us. The one that would have suited us, strengthened us, let us be the partners we needed to be for each other.

But there are too many galaxies out there. There are too many fractures, too many splinters, too many moments where the roads diverged and the manifestations of our choices split into ten thousand alternate lives. There are enough what-ifs out there for me to get lost in forever, and I don't want to spend my time chasing our cosmos anymore.

I'm ready to come back to this Universe.

I'm ready to accept that there may not be another Universe out there for us. And maybe that's okay.

There's still Universe enough here for me.

And maybe this is the Universe where I learn to not need you anymore. TC mark

I Will Always Love You, So Tell Her To Be Good To You

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 06:00 PM PST

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“There is a part of me that will always love him,” I exhale, wishing I had a much cooler sentence to tell my mom.

I could say I’m fine, that I’ve never thought about it. I don’t cry when the moon smiles, reminding me the nights he and I stared at it together.

I could lie. But she’d see through it. My mother, an angelic being who has always kept me afloat, even when I’m not sure I deserved it. She still threw me a lifeboat and I figured out a way to shore.

Really, it’s not even like I’m out with a group of girlfriends, drinking our weight in margaritas and lamenting the men who we’ve loved and lost. I’m here, a full-fledged grown up curled up in the fetal position in my mother’s bed as she reassuringly pats my head. A 23-year-old woman, resembling something much more like a child, needing my mother to make it better. I want my Mommy to hug me and make the hurt stop.

“It’s been so many years and he still always finds me. I don’t understand.”

My tears are silent, but still find a showing way to roll off my cheeks. They do not make a sound, but refuse to go without notice. I try to wipe them away before she sees, but it’s useless. Because 23 or not, I still find myself crawling into my mother’s arms and expecting it to be better. For it to hurt just a little less. For it to feel like I can survive. I can, I remind myself.

“I know. I know,” she kisses my forehead and I crumble into 18-year-old me again.

His face dances in front of mine like this projector mind of mine when night falls. I see us falling in love, this innocent kind of romance, but birthed out of darkness. How the two of us knew death and found each other inside it. Our intensity makes sense when I remember how we came to be. We fell in love through grief, and shared everything in-between.

It’s getting overplayed, this lost love sentiment of mine. I tell myself this every time I sit down to write. It’s done. It’s over. Move the fuck on, I cry.

I throw glass against the door just to hear it shatter so something else feels broken. I don’t want to be the only one.

Years ago, he told me to find him when we were in the same place again. He asked that I’d always look for him, that I’d never give up trying to find us again. Who we were. The flame we shared. And I agreed.

So, I did. But it came too late. And now she’s there, warming him with her own flame. I can’t even hate her, just envy the man she gets to speak to when things are tough.

I hope she holds him with the knowing that he’s the best thing. I hope she kisses him with the knowledge he’s the one-of-a-kind type. That he’s all the romantic bullshit we roll our eyes at. He’s Nicholas Sparks and shit you think is too good to be true.

As a teenager, I always wondered if he was too good to be true. Our love felt too perfect for real life. Maybe that was my mistake, pushing away something from fear of it being too Hollywood.

The truth is, he’s all that. He’s Honey Bear kisses and late night phone calls that make falling asleep not so scary. He’s silliness and intelligence that makes you want to read every book every written just so you can keep up with his brilliance. He’s everything I wanted and had, and I’m so glad I ever had the opportunity to love him.

I hope she kisses him with lips that know how lucky they are to be the one who wishes him goodnight. I hope she kisses him for me. TC mark

17 Things We All Need To Calm The F*ck Down About

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 05:00 PM PST

rosehilldrive
rosehilldrive

1. The number on the scale.

So long as you are healthy and happy, who cares? There are so many factors that can have an effect on what you weigh and it in no way correlates to how you look or feel. Repeat after me: your worth is not your weight. It's just a number, a combination of digits, a pixilated picture on a stupid glass thing from Target, and it does not define you.

2. Likes, Favorites, Retweets, and everything in between.

Do yourself a favor. Put down your fucking phone and stop obsessing over how many people have commented on that filtered shot of your happy hour treats. You know what you should actually be losing your chill over? How damn delicious that fried mac and cheese tastes– not the validation because you happened to awkwardly take an above angle shot of it. Be in the moment and you will in turn be a calmer, more balanced, (and probably less hungry) person.

3. Where we are vs. Where we thought we'd be.

Believe me, I know it's easier said than done. It can be really overwhelming to look at your life and compare it to where idealistic, doe-eyed, 18-year-old you thought you would be. But the fact of the matter is no journey is alike or predictable so there's no use dwelling. It can be nice to reflect but you cannot let it spiral to being disappointed in something you can't change. You will get to a place you are proud of. It might not be tomorrow, but it will happen.

4. How we really look when "we woke up like dis."

Come on…even Queen B put on some cover up, okay? And besides, I guarantee there is someone out there who doesn't give a damn about your morning hair or mascara leftovers. They just want to wake up with you.

5. Why someone isn't texting us back.

You know how a watched pot never boils? Well a watched iPhone never notifies. Step away from the iMessage and breathe.

6. Our followings or lack thereof on social media.

Say it with me. Social. *clap* Media. *clap* Means. *clap* Nothing. It can be cool but in the long run, nobody is going to be putting their follower count on their tombstone. What would you rather have? 2500 people who MIGHT laugh at your joke on Twitter or 5 ride or die friends who will go to the baseball fields with you even though sports aren't their thing? Take your pick, but 2500 followers aren't going to hold your beer when you have to yell at the pitcher for throwing a shitty fastball.

7. Why we're single.

You are single and fabulous. Exclamation point.

8. Why we aren't married if we're in a relationship.

That's one more finger you can put cute ass stacker rings onto.

9. The weather.

You chose to live where you live. Buy and umbrella if it's raining, a coat if it's chilly, and take advantage of the sun if it's shining. But please, for the love of God, stop bitching. Unless you are going through a Polar Vortex – then you have a hall pass.

10. Whether or not someone bangs on the first date.

It's none of your business unless they're coming onto you. And you know what? If it's not your thing you don't have to do it. But regardless of your feelings surrounding quick to the draw sex it doesn't give you the right to judge them. What they do with their bits and how they bend their legs and when is up to them.

11. What someone's booze/night out preferences are.

Shut up with the craft beer shaming and the eye rolls when someone asks for a vodka cran. You don't win a prize for preferring IPAs with the consistency of stew or drinking straight whiskey while quoting Hemingway. And if they like to down those PBRs on the couch and you frequent hipster bars every Friday through Sunday, congrats! But don't be a buzz kill. You will get called out eventually and it will be embarrassing.

12. Carbs.

Life is too short to not eat pasta.

13. Anything related to Facebook stalking.

We all do it so if you're going to take the dive, you have to own it. You also have to recognize your crazy and keep a level head if you find something you don't like. First rule of Facebook stalking is not losing your mind over the things you dig up. That's not in the cards? Call up Mark Zuckerberg and ask him to block your ability to go all Nev Schulman on people. Or you know…just don't.

14. Stretch marks and cellulite.

We all have them and if you don't now, someday you will. Just embrace it as part of your body doing exactly what it's supposed to do – shift and grow and carry you through life.

15. What our ex is up to.

It might take months, it might take years, but eventually you need to accept that they are no longer in your life so, frankly, it's none of your business. And yeah, that's a tough pill to swallow. But they are not yours anymore. So move on. Don't worry about who they are with or aren't, where they move to or don't. Just let them go. It's healthier.

16. That brunch we weren't invited to.

God dammit, people are enjoying bottomless bubbles and omelets without you. That sucks. But so what? Go have expensive eggs by yourself and do not ever let FOMO be a thing that ruins your day.

17. Pretty much everything.

Seriously. CHILL. TC mark

#PrayforParis: An American In Paris Reflects After 7 Days

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 04:15 PM PST

Wikimedia
Wikimedia

Today I discovered Parisians are just as tough as New Yorkers. And that is a beautiful thing.

I have lived in the City of Light for almost eight months now, I don't know why I didn't see this before. Before the explosions, the shootings, and the bodies lying in the street for hours, reminding stupefied survivors we were lucky this time. Maybe because before, not a day had gone by in which I didn't reflect appreciatively on the peace of living in a society that doesn't worship the way of the gun.

I lived in New York City for several years before moving here. I have memories of numerous strolls through Upper Manhattan punctuated by the discovery of new police tape. Silent testimony that I had just missed by minutes another ultimate sacrifice to the way.

Once in a single day, I experienced two such encounters, along my regular route in East Harlem. The most haunting of these was the scene cordoned off at the corner of a schoolyard. Minutes before a young man had been shot and killed as he stood next to a baby in a stroller. The blue stroller, with some of the baby's belongings nestled in the seat, was still at the scene when I passed by.

Friday, early evening November 13, 2015 started as a lazy, sluggish night for me. I felt a bit anti-social and had not committed to a plan for the evening. Should I grab a friend for drinks or sample the abundant and exquisite Asian cuisine of Paris? Or perhaps just wander alone through the Les Halles area? I wanted to relax for another hour or two first before going out again.

I plunged into a Facebook exchange about American gun violence with a few expats and some friends back in the USA. I started the discussion with a report that some of my new French acquaintances were amazed to learn that annual deaths from gun violence in the USA far exceeds the number of deaths from terrorism, including the attacks of September 11, 2001.

A Caucasian American expat friend, who has been based in Paris for three years, suggested that I:

".. tell them that in America we don’t depend on government for everything. When the wolf is at the door you don’t want to wait for the gendarmes because they sure as duck don’t care as much about your ass as you do"

I reminded her thousands of Americans were killed each year by guns in their own home and/or by people they knew. My libertarian buddy, undeterred in her intentions to spark a gun control debate, then asserted that the matter was about distinguishing between "the criminals having guns and the right to bear arms". I told her I was not commenting on either point of view, but lamenting the loss of "the right to life" for the rest of us.

I told her I was not commenting on either point of view, but lamenting the loss of "the right to life" for the rest of us.

I stepped away from my laptop for a moment and returned to see thirty plus replies to my original post had sprung up, most of them a debate on racism between the libertarian (seeming) expat and another African-American like me, who had recently spent some time in Paris. Some others understood the original sentiment of my post, including a Caucasian high school friend living in the UK for a number of years and an African-American science teacher and mother living in Columbia, SC.

Suddenly, I was distracted by another social media announcement. A contact in Paris reported gun shots and explosions in the city. Another colleague posted that people had been shooting in her neighborhood. Then, a friend in the UK, who had been following the aforementioned debate wrote, "BBC, now!"

The next several hours I sat mesmerized by death estimates, which quickly escalated from 15 to well over 100. The number of attack sites rose, too, from three to, depending on the news source, six or seven. Like millions of others, I dutifully worked my networks, texting, posting, and calling to find out if the people I cared about were also alive and well. Panic engulfed me when I recognized from a report a location near another friend, who I had not heard from at all that day.

Real talk, folks: despite the relationships I had developed here, I seriously deliberated booking a flight home to be near family. I grabbed my passport and took out my credit card. But that plan was quickly decimated when I learned we were on lock down. President Hollande had closed the borders of France and a curfew for Paris, the first since World War II, had been established by the mayor. Military trucks were rolling through the streets.

And then I saw the crazy, wonderful, badass thing. Thousands of Parisians were giving shelter to thousands of strangers seeking cover, tweeting #PortOuverte, open door. Some of these places were private homes, other were business locations. My favorite bookstore, the Latin Quarter based Shakespeare & Co., invited nearly two dozen people to spend the night in the shop.

I was astonished. When the Pourte Ouvert began, no one knew whether or not the attackers were still at large. What if of the one these killers or their accomplices were hiding amongst the respite seekers? When some might advocate for buckling down the hatches and arming themselves for arrival of the wolf, Parisians, took on a completely different mission. They ignored their vulnerability in the chaos and became modern-day examples of the Good Samaritan.

Just one sunrise later, Paris pedestrians re-claimed their streets from the military trucks in a valiant effort to maintain their Saturday rituals no matter what. I recognized that same spirit from New York City in the days following September 11. I could have easily been in or near any of the places where horror-struck last night. Yet, today, after a respectful remove, I still feel safer in this city than in most major American cities.

I also can't stop thinking of the people in other countries who face this kind horror on a regular basis. Many of whom have nowhere to hide, no strong and capable military and police force to stop the attackers, and no mighty allies holding press conferences to say, “We stand with you. We will give you whatever support you need.” Places like Beirut, Eritrea, Syria and Charleston. I wonder about them. I hope we are seeking solutions for them; I hope we are praying for them too. TC mark

Is Pizza After Sex Better Than the Sex Itself?

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 04:00 PM PST

Couple eating pizza in retro car
Wunderimage

There are many factors to consider: Who the sex is with. Where and what is involved in the sex. What pizza place did you get the pizza from? Are there toppings?

I can say, assuredly, that pizza immediately before, or during sex is not ideal. But pizza directly proceeding sex has yielded a 100% satisfaction rate. Now, is it because the sex was so good, and the slice of pizza is akin to a cigarette which calms you down after the heart-pumping romp of intercourse? Or, is it that the pizza alone transcends the act preceding it and would have actually created greater satisfaction had it's eating been independent from sex altogether.

One undeniable fact is, the pizza industry in the United States outproduces the sex industry drastically. If you walk down any city street in the country you are bound to see multiple pizza places. But how many sex stores do you see? In any grocery store there is an entire section in the freezer aisle specifically for frozen pizza. How many sections of your local super market have entire areas dedicated to sex? You guessed it, none.

So is it true that we love pizza more than sex? Personally I found that I was eliciting sex more for the pizza that greeted me at the other end, than the sex itself. This issue, of course, does not apply to everyone. There are a small percentage of people that actually do not immediately eat pizza after sex, but mostly because of an allergy to lactose. However, with the accessibility of dairy free and vegan cheeses, and gluten free crusts, there are now almost zero restrictions to post sex pizza.

With this, it is in my opinion that pizza after sex will be so enjoyable, more and more people will skip the sex and go straight for the pizza. This brings up numerous ramifications both positive and negative for our society. To name a couple; heart disease will rise, but STDs will go down. The condom and lube industry will take a hit, but stain-removing companies like OxiClean will thrive with the increase in sauce and grease related stains.

Clearly the issue is multilayered, and at times folded upon itself. The best way to diminish the potential downfalls is awareness. We must have this conversation, and continue having it. TC mark

9 Definitive Times You Can Still Get Away With Acting Like A College Kid In Your 20s

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 03:00 PM PST

hannahmcswain
hannahmcswain

1. During whatever sporting event your school is known for.

If you're mixing bro-like pinnies and tequila before 10 AM, you get a free pass. However, if you went to a D1 school and you still live in your college city (in a UCLA kind of situation) you don't get a free pass every weekend for football games. You get one pinny and tequila pass per year — twice if you're school comes up from behind and miraculously makes it into the final four.

2. Your birthday.

On your birthday, you get to turn whatever age you want. If you want to celebrate the seventh anniversary of your 21st birthday, no one should stop you. Unfortunately, before you plunge head first into a gin bucket, it's important to remember that your hangover tolerance levels have aged seven years since your 21st birthday.

3. The days following a breakup.

I still associate sitting in the same sweatpants I slept in with college. I also think of binging on nutella, and watching Legally Blonde and Miss Congeniality back-to-back (the most noble feat) as s collegiate activity. But these are also text book breakup activities, so if you need to channel your inner slob when you're going through a tough time emotionally, there's no reason you should resist the need to melt chocolate on anything in sight, and break out your extra worn sweats.

4. Weirdly specific theme parties.

If you're going to attend an Anything But Clothes party after college, you can't pair that moment with a spicy pinot noir or a dirty martini. In other words, if you're going to capitalize on that jungle juice craving you have when you get nostalgic and/or drowsy on liquid benadryl, you need to do it at an overly specific theme party. Think: Lifeguard Bros And Surfer Hoes, or something equally obscene, ignorant, and borderline offensive.

5. The night before Thanksgiving.

Shockingly enough, the night before Thanksgiving is one of the biggest party nights of the year, presumably because everyone is in their hometown, and shares the belief that the best reunions have strong drinks. As long as you're being safe, there's no reason not to kick back and sink back into your college tendencies of casually eye-stalking the kid you almost hooked up with three years ago. And, hey, you don't have work the next day. (Though you do have to eat a very large meal before 4 PM, so keep it together at least a little.)

6. When your song comes on, and it's after 2:30 AM.

If your bars close at 2 AM, you're shit out of luck.

7. The first day of your period (if applicable).

Same concept as the days following a breakup situation. The first day of your period is the one day out of each month that deadlines follow your pants' lead and become a little bit looser. Your procrastination levels are allowed to surpass even your worst college procrastination sessions. If you're really going to rival your college self, you'll need a full Netflix queue, a heating pad (for obvious reasons), a curling iron (because now seems like a good time to see whether ringlets frame your face), a coloring book, and a will to create seven new Spotify playlists.

8. Halloween.

There is no rule that says when, where or how you're supposed to dress for Halloween. If you need to unleash your midriff in your late 20s (or 30s or 40s), you absolutely should.

9. When you run into someone you used to hook up with in college in real post-college life.

There's a common phenomenon in pop culture (okay, in vintage "How I Met Your Mother") called "revertigo," where you revert back to your past self when you're around someone you used to spend time with. So, if you catch the eye of your ex-college hook up years later while at a bar with colleagues (because you've become a legitimate person with a job, who now knows their drinking limits) you're allowed to revert back to your old self briefly. And if that means you instinctively hike your top down, then so be it. TC mark

‘I’m So Hammered Right Now’ And 9 Other Ways No College Guy Should Ever Start A Conversation With A Woman

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 02:00 PM PST

_bedesign
_bedesign

1. "I’m so hammered right now…"

Ummmmmm let me get this straight, Daniel. You drank 32 beers tonight and have boot 'n rallied twice already……and my panties haven't already dropped for u? CHRIST DANIEL WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

2. "I went on an epic hike this morning…"

Daniel. Ur trying to tell me u woke up at SIX AY EM to hike ur butt ALL the way up that big ass man's mountain????? Praise u, Daniel.

3. "…And then I lifted till my whole body hurt…"

Daniel. U. Cannot. Be serious. U CAN LIFT UP TO FIVE MILLION POUNDS???? Daniel my god ur wee wee must resemble a small child's arm.

4. "I’m kinda dank ass at rapping…"

I mean……Daniel. I have literally never in my life heard a white boy recite Nicki Minaj's verse in Monster as transformatively as u just did. Ur an artist and a feminist, at that. Take me here, Daniel. Take me now.

5. "…And you’ve got dank ass music taste…"

Danielllllllllll you're too much. I know you're incredibly impressed that, yes, I—a GIRL who, biologically speaking, is not wired to "know rap"—know this very mainstream Big Sean song and figured out how to play it real loud on these big speakers all by my little self…but enough about me. Let's get back to Daniel.

6. "When I’m not working out, I’m working on my philosophy thesis…"

So there's form………and then there's formlessness, right…? And then there's ur weiner in and around my whole body. Daniel I'm truly wet right now.

7. "Let me tell you about my car…"

Daniel my love…if you'd told me ur parents sent you to college with two Range Rovers and a Ferrari a little sooner, you would've been in my pants ages ago. Get over here.

8. "Obama is the worst U.S. president of all time…"

Sorry sorry sorry Daniel you lost me at the corner of You're A Fucking Idiot and You Should Really Consider Majoring In BEING DRAMATIC.

9. "Have you ever looked yourself up on ancestry.com…?"

So you're telling me, Daniel, that you're exactly 1/4 English, 1/4 German, 1/4 Dutch, and 1/4 Danish…..?!! Jesus Daniel you've got flavor!

10. "This one time, on my service trip to Africa…"

Daniel, babe, you seriously know more about Africa than anyone I've ever met…ever. Just to summarize ur deep knowledge: 1. Africa is one big country; 2. The country of Africa personally asked for u, Daniel, to fly down to take photos embracing (and therefore critically improving the lives of) little Black kids; 3. U have several Black friends. Did I miss anything? TC mark

21 People Share The One Thing They Wish The ESFJs In Their Lives Understood

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 01:00 PM PST

eimyfig
eimyfig

1. “You guys are so genuinely nice. You’re so good at putting people at ease and making everyone feel important. Just be sure to take time and remember that you’re important too.” –ENTP

beetlejuice

2. “Thanks for being the mother figure in my life…even when I don’t always like it.” –ENFJ

beetlejuice

3. “Unhealthy ESFJs: Please. Stop. Gossiping. For the love of everything good in this world, please stop gossiping. Not everyone likes talking about other people (especially an INTP, who is pretty private and respects others’ privacy.) And for those of us who don’t, gossip makes us really, really uncomfortable – not only hearing people’s lives casually used as entertainment collateral, but realizing you probably do that with ours, too, when we’re not in the room.” –INTP

beetlejuice

4. “I like you when you take the time to listen. And I like being the one who listens to you, too. I like that when I say, ‘I’m fine,’ you know when I’m not. And you also know when to press for me to explain and when to just let me hide.” –INFJ

beetlejuice

5. “Self reflection is really important. I know you feel better when you talk about everything with everyone, but sometimes it helps to take the time to figure yourself out before letting others muddle all your feelings.” –ENFJ

beetlejuice

6. “The world doesn’t end if there is a conflict. Sometimes it is extremely necessary and healthy!” –ESTP

beetlejuice

7. “You help make the world go round with your kind, amenable, servant hearted self. I’m so thankful for your warmth and practicality. You are much beloved.” –INFP

beetlejuice

8. “I will finish my work with my own way, in my own pace. I know you’re trying to help by trying to organize me, but I work better when I’m not rushed!” –ESFP

beetlejuice

9. “Please be more aware of how you treat people sometimes… many of you will be so nice to someone's face but then talk shit about behind their back. You may not realize it, but that behaviour makes most people really uncomfortable.” –ENFP

beetlejuice

10. “As annoying as your organizational skills can be, I wish I had them.” –ENTP

beetlejuice

11. “Just because I don’t want to be a part of the group activity doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy you individually. It’s possible to have fun without every single person participating. I want to do my own thing sometimes, and it doesn’t make me a bad person.” –ESTP

beetlejuice

12. “Thanks for taking care of me when I can’t be bothered to take care of myself.” –ISFJ

beetlejuice

13. “You and me, we know how to throw a party! I get you!” –ENFJ

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14. “It’s not at all a reflection on you when I don’t want to follow your specific structure and instead go my own way for a bit.” –ISTJ

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15. “Please learn how to express your emotions without resorting to passive-aggressiveness. I know you want to help others and care deeply, but I want you to be honest with yourself and others about your own emotions.” –INFJ

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16. “Thank you for being the adventurous moms and dads of the world, and for being prepared for anything!” –ENFP

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17. “You are by far my favourite type. I wish I could surround myself with nothing but ESFJs. But just remember that other people show their love back to you in different ways.” –INTJ

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18. “It doesn’t always have to be done your way. Sometimes it should be done the way everyone else wants.” -ESFP

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19. “Although you are one of the most common female types and you tend to fit traditional gender roles well, please do not hold high social, emotional, or motherly/home-making standards for other women. Many women, particularly NT’s, do not fit into this classic female mould, and feel like the female world is dominated by SFJ’s who are watching others to see if they have it together in this female competition of who is the prettiest, most socially adept, and most nurturing. Please be open to different kinds of women.” –ENTP

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20. “I love you, but you stress me out. Sometimes, it’s best to just let things happen–not everyday needs an itinerary.” –INFJ

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21. “Thank you for being the kindest, brightest, most caring person in my world.” –ISFJ TC mark

The Things People Don’t Tell You About Adulthood

Posted: 20 Nov 2015 12:00 PM PST

Jeff Bergen
Jeff Bergen

I remember when I used to abhor routine, when waking up before 9am was a form of torture I only subjected myself to for early flights or hungover stumbles to the kitchen for water. When I dreamt of getting older — and, of course, I did dream of it — I thought of the perceived freedom of adulthood, this idea that I could and should and would do anything and everything I pleased. There was a magical feeling to the daydream of adulthood and with it endless possibilities of who I'd end up being and what I'd end up doing and the kind of life I'd find myself enjoying.

During my early to mid twenties, I traveled and worked as a web designer, fully taking advantage of the unbelievable freedom of being able to make money while needing nothing other than a laptop and an internet connection. After a year in Paris and nine different apartments rented via Airbnb, all I dreamt of was a home, a car, a life I'd call my own. I romanticized this grown up version of myself, leaving behind a gypsy lifestyle in favor of roots, those pesky little roots I spent so much time avoiding were the very things that kept beckoning to me.

I wanted nothing of roots for the better part of my twenties and then, boom, those spindly things that anchored me to the ground were all I thought of. I wanted a home, a real place where the furniture was mine and not subject to a thorough walk-through at the end of my stay. After living in 20+ apartments in less than a decade, I wanted something, anything that was mine.

I wanted to grow up.

Finally.

So, I did. I leased a car and an apartment and I bought furniture and spent hard-earned money building a foundation for the life I had envisioned, the grown up version of whatever hodgepodge life I had been fiddling around with for most of my twenties. I felt Responsible. Mature. Productive.

Maybe I felt like an Adult.

A Real Adult.

During that time, I turned 30 and especially felt as though I had officially put on my big girl panties. I had done it. I looked and acted the part of adult perfectly. I had the adult things and the adult car and the adult apartment and the adult credit card debt and the adult student loan debt and the adult throwing out bags of spinach that went bad because I was a little ambitious at the grocery store and the adult despair and general existential crisis. So yeah basically I had unlocked adulthood like a fucking boss.

Now, here I am, fully formed grown up with all the trappings of that achievement. I have a blender. I can blend many soups. I can make hummus from scratch, if I felt so inclined to do so. (I feel negative inclined to make hummus from scratch, but hey, it's an option.)

But, you know what no one ever told me?

ADULTHOOD
IS SO
FUCKING
BORING.

This is it? This is the big moment, the big hurrah, the big thing I have been waiting for during my twenties? This is what I was preparing for?

Making soup? Paying off student loan debt? Making minimum payments on credit cards? Hating younger me for buying things on credit cards? Thinking younger me who leased a car was an idiot? Having hangovers from one glass of wine? Looking forward to potentially making soup in a blender?

This is the worst.

The other day I was hanging out with a friend and I was like, "What do you do for fun?" And she stared at me lifelessly, vacantly and shrugged her shoulders. She asked me, "What can someone do for fun on a Thursday night that isn't wildly expensive, won't give them a hangover, and is actuallyfun?" I couldn't think of anything. Not one thing. I was alarmed for myself, for my fellow thirty-somethings. I was not properly prepared for the mind-numbing ordinariness of being in your thirties.

Now, I know a lot of people have children at my age. I'm not sure where I stand on the idea of having children and vaguely feel like I should know by now if I want to be a mother. But, having children is a thing people do at this age. I've hung out with kids — they are not boring. They are not particularly interesting, but your mind has very few places to wander to when you're with a kid, mostly because your wandering mind could literally kill a child. You need to be watching children all the time. All the time!Children have no concept of chill.

So, okay, if you're childless and in your thirties and you don't want to get drunk in order to have fun, then honestly what do you do? How do you escape the soul-crushing monotony of adulthood? I am genuinely scared that this is it. Do I just have children in order to break up the monotony? I feel like that's a terrible reason to have a child.

I was not prepared for this knowledge — to find out that being grown is perhaps the most boring thing ever and to realize this at 30 when I likely have a lot more years to live. This is what I do? I work to be able to pay for things and I just keep doing this for like ever? And I can't even cut the boredom with a glass of wine because I will inevitably have a hangover? Are things not fun post-30? I see a lot of people running marathons and cooking meals, but both of those things sound the opposite of fun. Am I missing some adult fun gene that allows me to think hiking is a verifiably pleasurable activity?

People told me adulthood was hard, but I didn't realize it would be hard and also monotonous as fuck. I'm even doing work that I enjoy but work is still work even if you love it. I can't accept that life becomes just a drudge of responsibility and productivity and cleaning and cooking and paying bills and worrying about paying bills and getting angry about political candidates and trying to increase productivity and looking at student loan statements and being like why did I go to college fat lot of good that degree is doing for me now. I'm supposed to make soup or go hiking or visit a farmer's market or learn to like meal prepping or some shit?

This is it?

THIS!?

I quit adulthood. This is some bullshit. TC mark

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