And so do you.
My aim in starting this site was to chronicle my slow, mortal descent into adulthood, ending ultimately with blogging about my sciatica or the woes of filing for social security and how the WiFi sucks on my ice floe.
And one thing that’s become evident is that a big part of adulthood is restraint. Asshole apps like Timehop use an adorable dinosaur to remind us that we don’t look cool when we dance, and “SHOTS!” were never a good idea, actually.
So now I do a lot of responsible things. A few days a week I drag ass out into the sauna of Summer in Texas and run a three-mile loop around my neighborhood. For various reasons I’ve chosen to omit alcohol from my life. For even more various reasons, about which I’ll spare you the ugly details, I’ve become that idiot who has to ask if everything is “gluten free” at restaurants. High-level overview, I haven’t had a doughnut or a croissant in over two years. This pains me. But this is adulthood. I’m a grown-up.
It’s for these reasons that I can justify other indulgences. Like gelato milkshakes. And for the love of god, shoes. Shoes represent a lot of things to me, but in this instance they’re going to serve as a not-so-elaborate metaphor: “Shoes” are anything you want them to be. Whether it’s handbags you’re into, video games, fine wine, LARPing, massages, whatever – you’re entitled to your vices.
But it goes further than that. I’m willing to argue that these types of indulgences – the grown-up kind, y’all, don’t go getting hooked on opiates and count on my blessing – are actually really important to being a convincing adult in your regular life. Without them you’re at risk of being like Jack, a dull boy.
(Or a homicidal maniac. The stakes might be higher than you think.)
There’s something to be said for remembering that first moment of independence in your life – like when you first started college – when it dawned on you, “Holy shit…I can do whatever I want.” And all the super valuable experience you’ve gained since then that you lament not having at the time – guess what? Now you have both. You are the master of your destiny and you know that nothing good happens after Jagerbombs.
So don’t think of “shoes” as an answer to life’s miseries, some placeholder for somewhere else in your life that needs work. “Shoes” are not actual therapy. “Shoes” will never fill a void. But they will serve as a way to tell yourself, “Thank you. Good job on life lately. And also, you fuckin’ rock.”
Because there’s no use in waiting around for someone else to say it. And that sure as hell doesn’t mean it’s not true.