No one is perfect, and I’m not even close.
For those of you that aren’t little grammar Nazi’s let’s take this time to refer back to the title of this publication and note that the punctuation constituent is not in fact a question mark, but a period. Thus signifying a statement, and not the open-ended question to the universe I have an inkling most of you thought it was.
So before this takes the ‘woe is me’ turn you may inevitably believed was going to occur, let’s get on the same page about what this is really about:
People kinda suck. (present company included)
I feel like we see the mantras of ‘you’re perfect just the way you are’ or ‘#NeverChange’ plastered all over social media or those inspirational posters with the big white serif font and the picture of some shit like an oak tree in the middle (pictured below for reference):
But that doesn’t mean we actually take the time to listen. If you’re a man I’m sure you’re especially lacking in this particular area.
So let’s do that now with a little exercise. Repeat after me:
I’m not fucking perfect.
Hell, knowing most of you I’m not so sure you’re even all that great.
*joking of course, you know I adore you little fuckers*
Just cause I’m not perfect doesn’t mean I think I’m the absolute worst (I save that spot for whoever decided to take the grilled chicken sandwich off of Wendy’s menu, just know there's a special place in hell waiting for you).
Sure I do the good samaritan things like sign up to be an organ donor and adopt abandoned puppies, but I’m also the same person that has prioritized temporary ‘romantic’ relationships over friends that have been with me for years and showed me such love and support.
(I use the ‘ ‘ around the word romantic because I’m not all too sure that drinking one too many double tequila sodas and winding up in a frat house qualifies as romance)
Sure, perhaps maybe at the time of my misdoings I was rather inebriated (more often than not), but how many times can one really make that excuse. I mean, put the shoe on the other foot. If I was in a relationship with someone and they betrayed my trust while under the influence, I can’t say that I would have much grace. Honestly I would have none: a cheater is a cheater is a cheater. So why should I expect that of others towards me?
***To be clear this was a comparison, I have never cheated and have the intention to keep it that way***
Let’s take a second to just be real here and acknowledge our faults (here are but a mere morsel of my own):
Mistaking male validation for genuine connection
Putting others before myself
Having Spotify with the ads
Vacuuming (or lack thereof)
Poor communication
Coping with alcohol
Time management
Little white lies
*take a moment to admire the aesthetic descending arrangement of these vices o’mine*
Now this is not meant to be perceived as a colloquial shit on Lauren moment.
Absolutely not.
It’s a moment to acknowledge we are all fuck ups in our own way. That’s not to say we’re not also amazing in ways, but the two aren’t meant to be put on a scale and weighed against one another.
Just cause you’re a great dancer, doesn’t mean you’re a great singer.
I would know, I do the robot like it’s nobody’s business.
I once went to a cemetery with dozens of roses and put them on graves that didn’t have any flowers to show that these people weren’t forgotten. Wholesome, right?
But at the same time I have also stood by when someone used a derogatory term as if it were ubiquitous.
Yes I used that word, be impressed.
I’m fully aware of my flaws, and yes, there are some I’m actively working on.
And others (as one of my coworkers so eloquently loves to put it) I won’t go near with a ten foot pole.
I’m twenty-three years old.
No way am I ready to address all the things I’ve got goin on, if I did then what the hell would I do with the rest of my years (assuming i make it much longer). I’m not supposed to have all my shit together yet, and unlike you fuckers, I’m not gonna pretend like I do.
Right now I’m just trying to not equate my self-worth to whether or not a guy ‘likes’ my Instagram story. How sad is that?
Maybe you’re reading that and thinking I’m a hypocrite (or a little bitch) because I love to preach to not take life so seriously and how if you want something go for it.
I still believe that.
But half the battle is practicing what you preach.
I know we’ve all been in the situation before where you give relationship advice (or any kind of advice), but you’ll be damned if you take those same words and apply them to your own life.
So sorry if I’m calling you out, but for real stop thinking you’re hot shit. Act like it all you want (fake it til you make it mentality), but if you start to believe it you become ignorant to your own flaws. Which will do you absolutely no good in life.
But what do I know? Like I said, I’m twenty-three years old.
I could pull the cancer card and say I’m wise now that I’ve looked death in the eye and gave it the bird while I drove away into the sunset with my oxygen tank.
Oops guess I did pull the card (sorry not sorry).
Listen me, don’t listen to me. Do whatever you think it is you need to do, I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. Honestly, therapy is expensive and I’m no longer on my parent’s insurance.
As always I appreciate your time, even if you feel like you just wasted the last three minutes of your life (now you know what it’s like to have sex with the average adolescent male)
**see bolded terms if you missed the joke
Love you all and I hope you’re also a little tipsy right now
Xoxo Mild Girl