I Turned 25

Usually, I am a pretty big purveyor of all things ME. I mean, let’s face it. I host a fuckin’ blog for Christ’s sake. I would say I’m usually a chipper guy who appreciates the finer things in life: good friends, laughs, babes, marijuana, the ocean. However, as fabulous as you all may find me/this blog to be, there is some truth to the fact that I’m pretty unhappy as of recent. Most if it is job related (and to be honest, I should shut the fuck up; 1000’s of kids who would literally murder to be in the position I am currently in), but the other part is obviously female-related.

I’m in no way a debbie downer. Nuh-uh. Although, sometimes, I find myself looking at pictures of old girlfriends and their new boyfriends and it makes me genuinely upset. Not in that faggy, emo way. I get all tense in the chest area and my head begins to feel like my brain is trying to escape my skull. Everybody looks so happy with each other. I don’t mean to do the whole “woe is my/how come/what if?” of it all, but how did I end up here? I close my eyes and count to ten and it’s like I should be grabbing my backpack and going to a Psychology lecture on campus. I open my bespectacled windows to the world and realize that FUCK! I’m 9 hours into an 11 hour workday and that I DO NOT have a woman to go home to.

I think having a companion in your early twenties is of utmost importance. This is the hardest part of my life, no doubt, and I feel that my unjustified pain should be shared with the fairer sex. I want to know that no matter how bad the workday is that somewhere, anywhere (read: at home) there is a best friend waiting for me to spill all the deets, woes, worries, and pleasantries in my world. I’ll go one step further and tell you how incredibly jealous I am of those friends of mine who experience this share-affair with a significant other. They all look so happy. There are some in L.A., many in New York, and a few scattered about the middle of the country.

And there is me. Coming to you live via black MacBook (or sometimes iMac from the office), wining, wanking, provoking, inciting, rioting via keyboard. It seems like a whole lot of fun, doesn’t it? And then there is you, reading in bed with your boyfriend/girlfriend, laughing out loud at the funny posts, but more so that I am doing this alone because I don’t have anything (or anyone) better to do.

So I guess what I’m asking (myself)…the joke is on who?

Fuck. Being 25 sucks.