THAT Guy

     So there comes a point where it looks like everyone has their shit so much more together than you do. Your friends are landing decent jobs and getting married, having kids. They're busy and you have a 21 year olds worth of free time and drinking is getting kind of old. Something bad happens and you don’t have the resources to take care of it and that’s just fucking great. You spend your free time reading about other people’s happiness because most people don’t post “car broke down, how the fuck am I going to feed my kids? Husband’s passed out on the couch drunk AGAIN. I want my mom.” They post “Being a mom is really great. Love my life.” I had a friend post something similar as her body was breaking down and she was literally dying. You learn to read these things better “You’re on Facebook, your life isn’t that great either.”

   So you need someone and you don’t want to look like a failure. Enter that guy. The one you know better than to call. Who the fuck else are you going to catch up with? You’ve got a more current ex but he’s going to think you want to get back together. Maybe your current relationship is on it’s last leg and you’re the only one who sees it. Your friends are busy being adults and let’s face it, you’re embarrassed.  

     THAT guy tells you it’s okay. Tells you that you’re fine. Tells you can do better ect ect. And the attention is nice. You start going home more often. Maybe things do get a little better at home too and you attribute it to him instead of your own fabulous self. And it’s not love but it’s comfortable. You tell him to let you know if he’s seeing anyone else. Then you find out he’s got the same thing going down with like half of your graduating class. It’s like a shitty reunion of really fabulous girls in ruts.

     If we were a little more honest about how not okay our lives were with our peers we might not end up here. I’m just saying. Had I gone to get drinks with these girls instead I would have felt a lot better about myself. But you never think to do things like that, you think to message that douchebag who is skimming through the list looking for the best of the damaged girls. If you can’t see this you begin the cycle all over again of “oh that’s so great. I’m happy for you, friend.” And you’re waking up in the morning thinking “Man, Adele just gets me.” 

    And no should EVER wake up feeling like Adele has life figured out.