I Suck At Being A Millennial

I Suck At Being A Millennial

As I scrolled through the disaster of a group text from the debauchery all of my post-college friends got into this weekend, I was regaled with stories of hookups, one-night stands, a plethora of tequila shots, bottomless brunches, late nights that turned into early mornings, and pregnancy tests. I drank the coffee I home-brewed in a standard coffeepot not dissimilar to one you’d find at any Waffle House across the nation and tried to decide how best to respond. Should I talk about getting through the entire first season of “The Crown” on Netflix over a long weekend? Hitting the gym a couple of times? Meal prepping my food for the week? Cleaning my microwave? As I worked through anything resembling an appropriate response to my friends, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks: I suck at being a millennial.

Like a Republican who once thought Mitt Romney would lead their party to greatness, it’s clear I’m now in a land where I don’t belong. I started dating my boyfriend before Tinder happened, so I’ve never experienced app dating except through the stories of my friends, some of whom are beginning to marry their right swipes. Going out to the bars used to be fine, but now? Why spend $12 on two craft beers when I could take home a bottle of wine, curl up with my Netflix queue, and text a few friends to fulfill my social obligations instead? And if we’re being honest, I really couldn’t tell you the last time I attended a true brunch anyway. Drinking before the lights go down makes me useless for the entire day, and I’d rather make some fresh coffee and toast at home while saving the $30 I would have spent on mimosas and eggs benny, because your girl would like to put a down payment on a house before she turns thirty.

It’s weird being in your mid-twenties in this day and age and feeling like you have your life together – or, at least, are on the path to getting there – when your friends seem all too content to get blackout at their hometown bars. Seriously, think about how much money you’re spending on your bar tabs and what that could do in your 401Ks with employer match! This goes above and beyond being the parental force of a friend group (which I’m happy to say I wasn’t in college), and is instead a sort of separation from your peers. In college, the “mom” of your friend group would happily go to bars with you knowing that she’d spend the evening not hooking up with a random, but instead, holding your hair back and force-feeding you Gatorade and French fries. Instead of tagging along at the bars like a friend group mom in college, us anti-millennials forego the bars altogether, choosing to enjoy our weekends in peace and quiet while letting our millennial friends manage themselves.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I happened to be a regular millennial who always sprung for guac at Chipotle and took weekly SoulCycle classes instead of just lifting weights at my local gym. Would I be happier if I relinquished my responsibilities and instead accepted the stereotype that my age group has so willingly accepted? On one hand, I’d certainly accumulate more Instagram likes from the avocado toast I currently don’t eat, but on the other, I’d have to give up my comfortable nights in, trade in my leggings for real pants, and decrease my savings rate. I may not be your average millennial, but somehow I’m okay with it.

I log into Facebook and am hit with pregnancy photos and baby videos from all of my hometown peers. I take a quick screenshot and throw it up in my group text with the caption, “Ugh. Can you imagine? Seriously, I’m doing well if I remember to feed my dog twice a day” and rack up the likes. I may suck at being a millennial, but until I become a real adult, I’ll still fit in with all of my true millennial friends just fine.

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Steph W.

Steph W. is a new Master's degree graduate with an intern's salary and six-figure taste. She realizes her expectations far exceed reality, so she spends her days pinning away Loubs she pretends are in her physical closet instead of her virtual one. Her hobbies include attempting to trapping her boyfriend into marriage before he finds out how insane she is and pretending that Black Box wine tastes as good as the kind she could afford when she was gainfully employed. Send her tips for getting out of student debt at

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