I’m watching Mad Men right now. I love this show. Mostly, I love how it was a time when men were men. Adults were adults. There was a clear line. Today, a thirty-two year old man will take copies of his text messages with a woman and then share them with people. Who does that shit? Really? I know technology is fast but the idea that this person would actually take private conversations and save them as a jpeg just to share in an effort to make some childish point. Wow. New low. It’s no wonder why some women have absolutely no problems walking away from behavior like that. Get over it, indeed. 

We need a new law that says there are standards of adulthood. Maybe an app, even. It will prevent anyone over the age of 29 from doing stupid retarded things like sharing text conversations for the benefit of no one; for fodder and nothing else. Not even for the promotion of intelligent conversation. Just, basically, for shits and giggles. All at the detriment of one’s personal growth. We need people to actually say, “Yo, I don’t want to see that shit.” For no other reason but that it is immature, it’s lazy brained, it’s beneath one’s own level of digestion. 

We need to finally get the card laminated. The one that says, “I’m a fuckin’ adult. That’s why.” and flash it to fuckheads who keep trying to perpetuate this idea that 30 is the new 20. It’s not. Alright? You’ve got bills. You’ve got debt. You’ve got a receding hairline. You’ve gotten fat. It is NOT the new 20. 

And yes, I realize I’ve said that thirty is the new twenty. I’ve indulged in a bit of, “Oooh, lemme see dat shit!” but I’m nearing the point of enough, especially when it is put in my face in an attempt to get me to bash some poor girl who was bright enough to call someone out. 

In the end, I just feel like I’ve grown in a way that places me beyond one particular individual. I’m embarrassed for him. I’ve learned to use a knife and a fork and he’s still on his gameboy at the kids’ table.