The Twenty-Something Game

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What is this game us twenty-somethings play? This oscillating between emotional extremes, I can’t decide if it’s conducive or enervating to my personal development. I think at the heart of it is this belief we perpetuate—that we are really aware of how the world and relationships work and we are always making consciously informed decisions. We can always justify the rationale behind anything, almost to the point of a defense mechanism. We perpetuate this belief of ‘surety’ in our cognitive script because it serves as a buffer for admitting that we are, in reality, incredulous.

Why do we always have to be right? Why do we always have to have the answer? Why is there no value in simply admitting that we messed up or that we don’t know or that this is trial and error or that ‘hey, I know this will hurt soon but it feels good now so fuck it.’ Don’t we deserve to fuck up? Why don’t we give ourselves the space and the patience to fuck up? Not to say that is something you should strive for, but in general, if we are too harsh on ourselves, what purpose does it serve?

Sure, you had the shortbread cookie dipped in chocolate; sure, you got up out of bed, redressed yourself to a manageable cuteness level and missed your Friday morning Spanish class because he texted you, ‘yo,’ circa 1am; sure, you watched the entire first season of GIRLS for the 4^th time instead of doing your 5mile loop.

We’re still worthy ladies. Isn’t this what being in your twenties is about? Navigating that weird semi-adult dating territory—where everything is hushed, blasé, casual, and noncommittal. Fucking up is almost a survival mechanism in this realm of intimacy between refills of a keggar red-cups and mingles over $1 sushi.