I’m Boycotting Facebook Because Everyone’s Being Too Grown Up
What I didn’t realise, upon immediately slamming into my mid-twenties, was that almost immediately, the conversations over coffee or dinner tables would change significantly. And I’m not talking about nosy family members (in fact they are the opposite) it’s friends and acquaintances who can’t help but casually encourage you to upgrade your relationship or womb over a cup of green tea. It’s like Tourette’s. We just can’t seem to help ourselves. One minute I’m innocently meeting up to talk about the weather, the last book we both read, or the colour of our nail varnish and suddenly, quickly, we’re on the topic of nappies and imaginary weddings. What would you have? You know, if you HAD to choose? Come on. You know, HYPOTHETICALLY?
It’s the mid-twenty-something equivalent of when we used to talk about getting a job while at school. “ONE DAY!!!” we’d excitedly scream. But we were here, and all that gooey adult stuff was all the way over there. It was something both exciting and rather repugnant at the same time.
Heading towards my mid-twenties, I already knew to be prepared for the “slowing down of the metabolism”, or “the hangovers that will make you wander if you were actually properly ill, instead of a bit worse for wear”, or the fact that you can’t really get away with being a silly inept youngster because, “no offence, 25 isn’t that young anymore”. (And yet I still hold my breath every year hoping that it is not the final year getting a stocking from “Santa”).
What they didn’t prepare me enough for, though, (“they” being the Millennial Guardian Angels) was that almost suddenly everyone starts talking about previously banned words: such as babies and marriage. These two words, once filled with dread, fear and shudders now become actual springboards for light conversation. My best friends casually drop in their baby names. Or the venue of their wedding. Instead of “I can’t wait for the weekend” it’s a “I can’t wait to be a mum” whilst boiling the kettle. When I scrunch up my nose with fear, I get the inevitable response: “we’re not far off thirty, you know”.
I thought we were all speaking hypothetically. At least me and my group of good friends. You know, that we’re not really that worried about it all, it just seems like “the thing to do”. Ha, we’re not ACTUALLY getting married or anything. Oh wait. No wait. Everyone is putting their bling in my face. It’s all over my feed.
I go onto my friend’s profiles: oh god. I see my friend’s finger. I realise: he liked it, so he put a ring on it. Now I have to “like” it too.
Here are my #hashtag #problems:
Q: When do I need to start saving up to buy a wedding dress from Stone Cold Fox? It’s £8,000 for a flimsy piece of beautiful silk.
A: Don’t bother. You can’t afford it. You work in the ‘creative industry’. Also: it won’t be in stock from that weird Pinterest link you keep clicking on.
Q: What if I don’t put a “he asked, I said yes!” post on Facebook if I do ever get engaged?
A: Then no one will know your engaged. Soz!
Q: Why does the word “wedmin” bring me out in a rash?
A: Because it’s the second worst word. After bridezilla.
Q: What if I want to rebel against wearing white because it’s 2015, not 1901.
A: That is making shopping for the wedding dress x1000 harder. Well done.
Q: What if I categorically don’t believe in spending £20,000 on ONE NIGHT. That’s loads.
Q: What if I want a baby but I just don’t want it to follow me around, though.
A: It will creep into every tiny bit of your life and you will never ever sleep again.
Q: Will I get paid loads of money for maternity leave? So I can buy loads of fancy maternity clothes?
A: HA HA HA HA.
Q: Will there be WIFI at my hypothetical wedding for the perfect curated wedding via the hashtag #INSTAHITCHED?
A: Maybe. But then you’ll put your wedding pics on Facebook and they’ll get two likes.
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