Becky Wisdom

Now that I’ve reached the ripe old age of THIRTY, I find myself passing on advice to my younger friends. I find myself letting them in on the facts of life being married, thinking about babies (ALL THE MOTHERFUCKING TIME, THANK YOU UTERUS, YOU ABSOLUTE MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKER) and just generally being awesome at being this old.

As a lady who lived with a dude for five years, and then married said dude, I have become some sort of Yoda figure. My friend just asked me yesterday, “What would you suggest for a good lube?” And I was all, “Whaaaaaaat? … Actually, I was researching sperm-friendly lube recently, which you probably won’t be interested in but, I did come across some organic lube that I totally wanted to try out. I think if you’re really into getting a high-quality lube, the internet is the way to go.” I don’t even know how this happened.

It’s kinda funny to be the one who might sort of kind of know some things about life. I didn’t think I’d ever get here when I was a teenager. I thought I would completely fail at everything. It’s weird hearing things like, “When I get married, I hope it’s something like what you guys have. You have so much fun,” directed at me. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s true either.

At work, we have the weirdest conversations in the lulls between appointments and downtimes. One of them arose from a very bold statement that they would never have buttsex ever. I had to let them in on a little secret about buttsex that I wish someone would’ve told me. If you’re in a longterm relationship with a man, there will most likely be a war on your butthole. Even if you’ve never thought you would ever, ever, ever have buttsex, you might, after months and months and years of convincing (begging, bribes, back-rubs, jewelry), give in and that’s ok. They’re convinced, in their early twenty certainty, that they’ll never let this happen to them. I’m just saying, the war on your butthole is real. They have nuclear weapons. Operation Butthole.

We obviously talk about sex a lot. They’re like rabid sex beasts sometimes. I brought up vibrators the other day after hearing some questionable booty call plans. “Don’t you have a vibrator?” I said. She replied, “I have a removable shower head.” “That’s not a vibrator.” Ladies? Get a vibrator. Even if you think it’s weird. Get one and just try it out. Just try it. A 24 year old should have a vibrator. You don’t have to get the one that’s shaped like a giant veiny penis with a scary wildlife creature perched atop it, just start out with a nice, safe bullet.

I also have to tell them when they’re being stupid about animals. If you don’t have a stable housing situation, you do not need to be taking care of an animal. You cannot hide an animal at your apartment. When they find out, what are you going to do? Move? Pay the pet deposit? Break you lease for some ungodly amount of money? Give it back? Think about these things before you get an animal, before you get another animal. Realize your limitations and be fair to that animal.

All in all, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I have anything figured out. It is nice to play the sage thirty year old some days. I do have some advice that I feel is important, I just hope I don’t let it all go to my head and start a cult. Although, it would be a pretty awesome cult. Just saying.

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