When I was younger, I could not wait to grow up and be an adult. I wanted to move out of my parents’ house. I dreamt of going to school away from home. I wished to have a kickass job. I hoped for a rocker boyfriend. And I thought I could lead my life by myself. But the “grownup land” is not the nice little playground I thought I wanted to be in.
Being an adult means getting a job, not necessarily the dream job. It takes a lot of luck to land on your dream job right after college. And if you have remained the dreamer after your first, second, and maybe third job, you just settle for the job that pays the rent and supports your occasional bourgeoisie-like splurging on food, travel, and clothes. Just do not mind that you sit in front of the computer, busy counting the hours left until 6 pm.
Being an adult means having your soul mate as a boyfriend and then him, breaking up with you. It is about finding your perfect match and then realizing that you, yourself, are imperfect and you two are in an imperfect relationship. Being an adult makes you realize that some long distance relationships, including yours, make partners literally drift apart. And there might always be a third party, depending on which side of the bed you are in.
Being an adult means being annoyed by your mom and dad, bugging you to get over your ex and find another boyfriend. And there goes the threat that your younger siblings might get married before you. It makes you think the possibility of being an old maid — alone, childless. Or better yet, getting pregnant without a husband.
Being an adult means talking about sex. It is about hearing the sexcapades of your workmates and friends and deciding whether or not to do active listening. It teaches you that cowgirl is not a girl from Texas and doggie is not the animal that barks. And it makes you gauge your sex life or lack thereof.
Being an adult means being stressed out about where to go on vacation, especially when the airlines go on seat sale. Your travel buddies book you to Coron, Bohol, and Iloilo. You go to Puerto Galera, Baguio, and Cebu. You are all over the place just to escape from your prole self. Nevermind that the next payday is still three weeks away.
Being an adult means detecting who your true friends are. It makes you think that Facebook is not really a social network, but a complicated bunch of bored and boring people. It makes you think twice about maintaining old friendships while striking up new ones. Or cutting ties with people, unfriending, just because.
Being an adult means wanting to be young again. Working 8 hours a day, 5 days a week is lackluster. It makes you want to relive your ol’ glory days as a teenager, raging with idealism. It brings you back to school, keeping your mind sharp by reading books, listening to lectures, following the news, and forming your beliefs and principles. You want to be in a classroom where everyone calls you ate or kuya.
Being an adult lets you experience falling in love and breaking up. Being an adult lets you experience widening your circle and cutting ties. Being an adult lets you experience taking responsibility for your family and talking back on your parents. Being an adult lets you experience making money and wasting it. Being an adult lets you experience wanting to get out of school and getting back in. Being an adult lets you think that you are not yet what you think you are.
