Things About Adulthood that Disappointed Me
This has turned into a midlife newsletter.
Amuse-Bouche: Children, we have a logo! All blessings to friend-of-the-substack Kourtney.
Entree: Internet quicksand discourse made me think about expectations of adulthood more generally: a lot of children who are unhappy or just not especially good at being children get really excited about adulthood. (As much ice cream as I want?! Less verbal abuse?!?!?!?) And those aspects of it absolutely slap, but:
I thought I would get to solve a murder. I didn’t think Murder, She Wrote was real, but I thought it was less unreal than it is. I didn’t think I would get to solve dozens of murders across several seasons, multiple continents, and recasting Tom Bosley. But I did think I would get to solve one or two. I thought that I would be in a castle in Scotland (why) or on an isolated island (how) or at a costume party (I have never completed a costume on time in my life), someone would stab a countess or something, and I, a remarkably unobservant person, would like, understand something about knives and get to call everyone into the library to reveal the identity of the killer. I turned Amber Alerts off on my phone because I usually can’t remember if I’ve seen any children at all in a day, and the father of one of my high school friends nicknamed me “Haze Boy” because I spaced out so much. But this guy was going to notice that someone stopped the grandfather clock at four minutes after midnight exactly.
You know who I am in this scenario? The second victim. I would notice a crossword puzzle-style hole in someone’s alibi and say something like “Oh, but the last emperor of Ethiopia was deposed in 1974” and get bludgeoned with a decorative obelisk. And I’m at peace with this.
Ejaculation doesn’t make a sound. It seemed like it should.
I thought hangovers were glamorous. You know, adults have them after exciting parties. And so I thought hangovers would be sort of fun and cool like “oh, you’ll never believe how many Hillary Wallbangers I had after I unmasked the killer last night, something something Alka-Seltzer.” Turns out you just wake up afraid and dehydrated, which I don’t need help doing?
I thought I would interact more with foods with funny names. Cartoon characters are always eating veal scallopini, lobster Thermidor, and God help us all rumaki, and I thought… people did that? I’m a fairly bold eater and I have had veal scallopini (a couple of times) and lobster Thermidor (someone made it for me to try to get me in bed, but joke’s on him, I’d already decided to sleep with him) and would absolutely hog a tray of rumaki. But this is not how actual human beings eat. For lunch I had the worst salad of my life. And some bread.
Romantic love, physical attraction, and mutual respect almost never coexist. lol, got me there!
Dessert: This lady writes music for bubble wrap!