A life glossary (that probably won't get you very far)
Chinese restaurant: It’s like when you’ve been searching for an apartment for a long time, a very long time. And you see a listing on Facebook for a nice apartment. It’s a very nice apartment.
It’s got high windows, exposed brick, and gobs of natural light. There's a balcony too, and a full bath. It’s in the location that you want, and somehow also in your price range.
You know it’s too good to be true.
You’ve been on the market for a while now, and these types of apartments don’t exist. Not in this budget, not with this natural light.
But you think to yourself, what if the apartment was real. What if this was the apartment you’ve been waiting for?
And so you make an appointment to see it.
On the day of the viewing, you put on your best good tenant outfit, and you flag a cab, and you head downtown during rush hour traffic.
And when you pull up to the address, it's a Chinese restaurant.
And you can’t even be mad, because there was some part of you that knew it was a Chinese restaurant all along.
Except that we’re not actually talking about Chinese restaurants, are we?
We’re talking about men, for fucks sake. We’re talking about men.
Coachella: You’d read an article about moms who were preparing to go to Coachella. They’d hired makeup artists and stylists to design their looks, personal trainers to get them in shape, and cosmetic surgeons to give them nips and tucks.
“Getting ready for Coachella doesn’t have to be a full-time job,” one of the moms said. “But I’m making it one!”
This had way more of a profound impact on you than it probably should have, and floats into your mind weirdly often to remind you that just because you can turn literally anything into a full-time job, doesn’t mean that you should.
responding with gifs in the group chat doesn’t have to be a full-time job. but you made it one!
cooking tacos for the guy you like doesn’t have to be a full-time job. but you made it one! (except that everyone knows you can’t have tacos w/o guac and margs, that's just lonely)
Field of dreams: *Spoiler alert* (except that real talk, if you didn’t watch this film as a child in the ‘90s, you’re not gonna watch it now)
But basically this guy builds a baseball field in the middle of nowhere, and these baseball ghosts come and play, and there’s a part in it where a voice goes, “If you build it, he will come.”
I’ve never seen such a tangible demonstration of this, until a friend wanted to get everyone together to see a gig for his birthday.
The show he wanted to see was a Ramones tribute band called “The Ramonos” that plays Ramones covers while wearing monkey masks (in Spanish, the word mono means monkey).
It’s arguably the strangest concept for a band I’ve ever encountered.
The thing is, that the show sold out before all our friends managed to get tickets.
So here I am scrambling to get tickets to this show. And the whole time all I’m thinking is, “People will really just turn up for anything, won’t they?”
This wasn’t like a one-off gig, this band plays shows on a regular basis. And are still selling out.
And it made me wonder why the hell I hadn’t built whatever the fuck it was that I wanted to build in this world.
Because if an obscure Argentinian rock group can dress as monkeys and sell out shows performing American punk music from the 70s, literally anything is possible.
If you build it, they really do fucking come.
Gym membership: The benefit tiers awarded to members of the opposite sex with whom you are swapping way more than just saliva. Like a modern-day dowry, but less cattle and more nudes.
All gentlemen begin as bronze members, receiving basic benefits such as: your Friday night, and whatever’s in your fridge that you can pass off as breakfast the next morning.
With time (and demonstrated competency in locating the clitoris) a promising young man can be moved up to silver. This promotion comes with: the good nudes, and you’ll stay awake in bed until they text back goodnight.
If selected for promotion to gold tier (criteria includes being able to hold their own on a joint Spotify playlist) perks involve: the really good nudes, and responses to their messages even when you’re ignoring the rest of the world. It’s also when you start to grocery shop with them in mind.
An executive upgrade to platinum (they ask about your day and reach for your hand in public) means: butt stuff, on like, birthdays and holidays. And your spare apartment key (although you can’t just hand it to them, weird. You offered it to them that one time it made things easier and intentionally didn’t ask for it back). Y’all, platinum is worth it. It’s time you start asking about her day already.
But the thing with memberships is that they come with terms and conditions. And upon breach of contract (ie: a lapse in their ability to locate the clitoris, or using said clitoris-locating abilities on another woman), memberships may be revoked at any time without advance notice, nulling all benefits and/or perks.
He’s making rice when you wanted pasta: Your therapist's response to not communicating your needs.
It’s not a red flag until after you’ve communicated your needs, and he still isn’t able to meet them.
If you haven’t communicated what it is you need yet, he’s just making rice when you wanted pasta.
Smellin’ pits: My next door neighbor growing up was a louder-than-life middle school teacher from Texas.
One day, the school where she worked decided that due to body odor in the classrooms, the teachers had to smell each student's armpits and let the student know if they needed to improve their personal hygiene.
Weird, on so many levels. The only explanation I can give is that it was the ‘90s and things were different back then. We ate squirty cheese out of cans for god's sake.
Recounting the situation to my mom as they talked over the fence (the scene of all important neighborhood conversations). My neighbor, in her Texas drawl, said that she rolled up her sleeves and decided, “If we’re smellin’ pits, we’re smellin’ pits!”
Little did I know, this was some of the best life advice I’d ever receive.
Because while sometimes there isn’t anything you can do to change the circumstances, the choice is always yours to roll up your sleeves and jump all in.
Strawberry milkshake: Sometimes when I open a menu there are things listed that make me genuinely wonder why they’re taking up space. Typically this involves desserts with any combination of cream and banana.
I don’t mean to be rude, I just truly do not understand why they’re on the menu and who is ordering them.
It’s one thing to know that there’s lots of different people in the world with lots of different preferences. I can grasp this as an abstract concept.
It’s an entirely different thing to wrap my head around the idea of walking up to the counter and ordering a strawberry milkshake. Especially when there’s the option of chocolate.
This shouldn’t be as esoteric as I’m making it, or as hard of a concept to fathom.
But sometimes in life, when I really just don’t get something or someone, all I can do is throw my hands up and remind myself that there are people out there who actively choose to order strawberry milkshakes.
Watered-down shampoo: Getting back together with an ex — you’re trying to make something last longer that you know is going to run out eventually.
But sometimes you need it just to get you through a shitty shower.