Ever been to a family party or a wedding–basically anywhere with fully fledged adults–and everyone’s all like “So who are you going to marry then?” or “So when are you going to buy a house?”
You move out to the big city and everyone suddenly expects you to have your shit together. If anything our shit is even less together. In fact, you might say we’ve totally lost our shit and there’s no chance of us finding it until far far into the future.
Expectation: you have a swish and fancy grown-up job.
Reality: you’re probably interning or doing some kind of “this’ll do for now” role with the intention of finding something you actually want to do when you eventually figure out what that is.
Expectation: you have a big fancy grown-up salary.
Reality: if you can afford to pay your rent each month then that’s something to show off about.
Expectation: your life is exactly like New Girl. You’re living in a great flat with fantastic people that are your best friends.
Reality: you hate them all, enjoy nothing more than your own company and cannot wait until you can afford to buy your own place. Which will of course be never.
Expectation: you eat in restaurants all the time.
Reality: if you do go out, it’s either a mistake or a big treat. And it’s usually the former. (In fact, if you do find us eating out, please send us home and ask us what the hell we were thinking).
Expectation: you live a luxurious lifestyle of £3 flat whites and £6 Pret salads.
Reality: you’d be lucky to be eating anything more than a Tesco meal deal or a home-prepped sandwich at lunchtime.
Expectation: you’re settled down in a loving and fulfilling relationship.
Reality: you spend your evenings flicking through Tinder and moaning about a) the lack of talent in London and b) thumb cramp.
Expectation: you know exactly what you want to do with your life.
Reality: you still have no bloody idea.
Expectation: you have a ton of money saved ready to pay for houses, holidays and babies.
Reality: it’s a good day if you can afford a second pint at the pub. Your pay cheque goes exclusively on rent and low-key survival (i.e. beans and bread).
Expectation: you’re great at budgeting and know everything there is to know about taxes.
Reality: you’re still counting your pennies at the end of each month, trying to pay off your TfL debts.