Dating men in their twenties is like taking a pottery class. A messy, harder than it looks job of trying to mould a slab of nothing into the shape of something loveable, only for the whole thing to crumble the second you take your foot off the pedal. Or maybe you do manage to produce something out of it, but it’s not exactly what you hoped for and the edges are wonky and disappointing.
Still, twenty-something me was known for matching with someone on Tinder and instantly deciding how our initials would overlap on the wedding invites. So maybe I was expecting a little too much from the get-go.
For reasons unbeknownst to me at the time, dating in my twenties was chaos. A combination of insecurity and lack of self worth, paired with—as previously mentioned—high expectations, forged a complicated string of “relationships” with lots of men who weren’t remotely ready for “relationships.”
I was joking with a friend last week, reminiscing on the dumpster fire of our twenties. We decided a new law should be put in place. It’s called the No Decision Making Before Thirty law. That means no marriage, no children, no life-changing decisions until we’ve grown up a bit. Until we’ve reached a place in our lives where we feel emotionally stable and settled into our own skin. Until we know why we’re actually making those decisions in the first place.
We were kind of joking, but kind of not.
My twenties were a decade long process of trying to figure it out. A constant state of anguish and uncertainty where a relationship would begin with a drunken snog and end with them ignoring me until I eventually went away. I’ve never felt more disposable. Maybe it’s different now, but a twenty something man that could communicate honestly or effectively was a rare and treasured artefact.
Still, they were the hooks I hung myself on. Hoping and praying that I might be the one they fell in love with. I begged them to meet the expectations I had of love and relationships—the way I wanted, needed and deserved to experience them. I was addicted to men who didn’t have the capacity to love me. Starving myself on a diet of crumbs.
Now I’m half way through my thirties, do I think men in their twenties are the new designer drug? No.
But do I think men in their twenties resembled drugs? Yes. There were similarities.
The One That Was Like Weed
Dated for a year but barely spoke. Most of those twelve months were spent sitting crosslegged on his bed—a chequered blue duvet set that his mum washed bi-weekly—staring at the back of his head whilst he played FIFA. Anti-social. Ate with his mouth open.
The One That Was Like MDMA
Undiagnosed ADHD. Wore a bucket hat and a nose stud. Loved festivals. Never quite ready for a relationship. Lived for the weekends. Always had white stuff in the corners of his mouth. Told me I’m not like other girls. Catchphrase: I’m a hugger.
The One That Was Like Cocaine
Arrogant. Worked in the city and wore too much aftershave. Drove too fast and punched holes in my bedroom walls when he couldn’t control his anger. Never sat down. Oozed self-importance. Called me Lauren. Felt like shit after spending a night with him.
The One That Was Like Mushrooms
Volunteered at a school in Thailand for a week. Had a God complex.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no doubt there are plenty of decent twenty something men out there. But if I were eighty nine years old on my death bed and a genie appeared in my room saying, “You’ve been a model citizen and as a reward—and honestly we don’t do this often—you can go back to being twenty one again, ready to live your whole life one last time!”
I’d say, “Wow! Thanks. But, erm, is there any chance we could start from like, say thirty two?”
He’d sigh before saying, “It’s complicated. I can’t get into the specifics right now, but it’s twenty one or nothing.”
“Well, thanks for the offer.” I’d say, closing my eyes ready to slip peacefully away, “but I’m good.”
Something I couldn't help but wonder myself: what's the distinction between 20 somethings now and the 20 somethings of the past, who seemed to make big life decisions before 30 en masse? I assume it's mostly cultural shifts, but could there be some indelible quality us young people are missing these days?