Last week my boyfriend asked if I was proud of the 'Adulting' he'd done that day; he successfully assembled an IKEA flatpack chair all on his own (and it didn't collapse when he sat on it). Needless to say I was incredibly proud, so much so that I took to sharing my pride with my meagre Twitter audience - the automatic response to anything exciting that happens in our lives. Of course this was after double-checking with Google that 'Adulting' is not the verb of committing adultery, which is not something I would be proud of... In case you were interested, the Urban Dictionary definition of Adulting is:
Adulting (v): to do grown up things and hold responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups.
Note the makes one think of grown ups rather than makes one feel like a grown up... Because Adulting isn't being an adult. It's being stuck in that intermediary 20 something awkward post-uni/pre-real-life phase, and you occasionally have to do something that any other adult might do on a daily basis. When I was skiing a few weeks ago I had some trouble with transferring money to my travel money card, which meant I had to call the bank. I was shaking the whole way through the call even though I knew every one of my security questions because I am me, but I still congratulated myself on successful Adulting as soon as I got off the phone.
I feel like I only Adult every now and then. I still live at home with my parents (and two older brothers, so maybe they're the ones who need to grow up a bit more), I have dinner cooked for me most nights, and I shamefully don't do any of my own washing. BUT I do have a full-time job in London, I just paid for my new phone, and sometimes I leave the house without telling my parents where I'm going. #Adulting. I'm also a stereotypical YoPro (young professional). I go to work Monday to Friday, I read my Kindle on the train, I have overcome my hatred for gin and will be hankering for a g&t at the end of the week. Even these things feel like minor achievements in my ever 'under construction' life, rather than just the done thing, and to be honest thinking of them in this way makes everyday life that little bit more exciting.
I worry when the time arrives where I am just an adult. Where putting together our own furniture is going to become the done thing. Phoning banks is going to become dull and arduous rather than giving a teeny adrenaline rush. I'm going to be paying for my own food, bills, toilet roll, oyster card (another expense that I shamelessly allow my dad to pay for). So even if I do feel unjustifiably proud of my boyfriend for following some instructions and using a screwdriver, and proud of myself for talking to a stranger on the phone, surely it's better to feel happy and proud of these moments than to resent them? Because we're all heading in the same direction: these small acts of Adulting are going to become common and never-ending, and we'll become the miserable adults on the train every morning who are waiting for retirement, and where's the fun in that? Embrace and celebrate Adulting - I reckon it's much more fun than being an adult.