Recently, someone told me that she doesn't feel like a "real adult" because she is single and childless. To be clear, this is a complaint: she would like to have a husband and children, but has neither, and feels, in her own words, "inadequate." She believes herself to be "behind schedule" on the checklist that women of my acquaintance torture themselves with: college, career, husband, house, kids, to be completed in that order and achieved by...oh, right now.
Due to moral failure and general cold-heartedness, I have limited sympathy for complaints like this. The complainant just wants to complain: there is absolutely nothing I can say to make her feel better (trust me, I know, I've tried). She's playing a dangerous game, though, because one day I might crack and tell her what really I think, and she really doesn't want to hear it. Because this is what I think: I think it's quite possible she may never get married and she may never have kids. I think it's quite possible that she may get married and have kids and hate every minute of it. I think it's quite possible that none of us get what we deserve, and that life is an unmitigated and unfathomable pain in the ass.
She may also regret complaining to me because one day I'm going to ask her to explain just who, exactly, qualifies as a real adult. Not just an adult, a real adult! Am I a real adult only because I'm married? A semi-real adult because I'm married but have no children? And if I never have children, will I remain in this state of semi-adulthood, or will advanced age eventually get me admitted to the club? I know a lovely person who has never been married and never had children, and is about to retire: shall I inform her that, despite all signs to the contrary, she has not yet reached adulthood?
Someone once told me that a real friend is someone who lets you use their toothbrush. Perhaps a real adult is someone who buys a toothbrush when they need one? All I know for sure is that nothing makes you a real adult, nothing—not marriage, not children, not a PhD, not a million dollar salary, not divorce, not age, not retirement—except acting like one. You are an adult when other people's life choices do not immediately make you feel insecure. You are an adult when someone tells you you're being an asshole and you can totally see their point. You are an adult when you realize that no one is out to get you. You are an adult when you recommend your favorite book to a friend and they dislike it so much they don't even finish it, but you can still admit they have good taste. You are an adult when it's a beautiful summer day and by some miracle you have the rooftop pool all to yourself, and instead of needing friends or kids or a husband to confirm that you should be feeling happy, you just think: this is all I've ever wanted.
Due to moral failure and general cold-heartedness, I have limited sympathy for complaints like this. The complainant just wants to complain: there is absolutely nothing I can say to make her feel better (trust me, I know, I've tried). She's playing a dangerous game, though, because one day I might crack and tell her what really I think, and she really doesn't want to hear it. Because this is what I think: I think it's quite possible she may never get married and she may never have kids. I think it's quite possible that she may get married and have kids and hate every minute of it. I think it's quite possible that none of us get what we deserve, and that life is an unmitigated and unfathomable pain in the ass.
She may also regret complaining to me because one day I'm going to ask her to explain just who, exactly, qualifies as a real adult. Not just an adult, a real adult! Am I a real adult only because I'm married? A semi-real adult because I'm married but have no children? And if I never have children, will I remain in this state of semi-adulthood, or will advanced age eventually get me admitted to the club? I know a lovely person who has never been married and never had children, and is about to retire: shall I inform her that, despite all signs to the contrary, she has not yet reached adulthood?
Someone once told me that a real friend is someone who lets you use their toothbrush. Perhaps a real adult is someone who buys a toothbrush when they need one? All I know for sure is that nothing makes you a real adult, nothing—not marriage, not children, not a PhD, not a million dollar salary, not divorce, not age, not retirement—except acting like one. You are an adult when other people's life choices do not immediately make you feel insecure. You are an adult when someone tells you you're being an asshole and you can totally see their point. You are an adult when you realize that no one is out to get you. You are an adult when you recommend your favorite book to a friend and they dislike it so much they don't even finish it, but you can still admit they have good taste. You are an adult when it's a beautiful summer day and by some miracle you have the rooftop pool all to yourself, and instead of needing friends or kids or a husband to confirm that you should be feeling happy, you just think: this is all I've ever wanted.
2 comments:
Yeah, I don't get these complaints either. I 100% felt like an adult when I got a full-time job, became self-supporting, and was able to make all my own decisions about my life. What's more adult than that? All the other stuff- marriage, house, kids- are permutations of different decisions you can make.
Exactly! I don't know how long I've been an adult, but it's been a very long time. I guess complaints like this are just an excuse for people to act irresponsibly.
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