How to: #BecomingAnAdultTips – 10

XWHY’s Justin Time avails us of the perils of growing into full manhood…whatever that might be…

Becoming an adult is a troublesome process. Few people make it out of adulthood alive. Whether you’re scraping twenty-one or hitting forty, there is always another mistake you didn’t know you needed to make as part of your overall growing process. Basically, this is a compilation of things you didn’t know you needed to know. I’ve done the research, the groundwork and a lot of really stupid sh** so that you don’t have to. From paddling pools to pirate costumes, achieving adult status is not always what it seems…

Tip No. 10 – There are some situations in which no one is a man…

Imagine the scene: someone is in the house and I am treading very carefully down the stairs.

In one hand, I have my phone and, rather cunningly, I’ve already dialled the numbers 999, so that all I have to do is press the green button, should the need arise.

In the other, I have my weapon, something that will help me defend my patch (and my pride) against the intruder, something to strike fear into the heart of my enemy and remind them they’re messing with the wrong person. In this case a shoe.

It was, I will have you know, the choice between a shoe and a cat, and the cat would probably have done more damage to me than the intruder.

I am prepared to fight or, at the very least, to press the green button, get stabbed and die as loudly as possible down the receiver so that they send someone before the aforementioned mog eats my cold, dead face.

This is a proud moment. Here is the human species going back to his roots, ready to defend the cave against marauding sabre-tooths. I feel that the scene is particularly proud and primal, as I didn’t have time to put clothes on. Let no one say that I allowed someone to get the better of me because I was too busy picking out which pullover screams “home invasion”.


This all, I hear you say, sounds very impressive and sexy, but where is the life lesson?

The life lesson stems from what happens next: I reach the bottom of the stairs, heart pounding and no villain in sight, only to find that, rather than a burglar (or, god forbid, a local youth), smashing through a window, the noise I heard was in fact caused by the other bloody cat knocking over a bin. Very swiftly, the image of my epic battle being painted on a cave wall fades from my eyes, and I look down to see myself, standing in my empty hallway, starkers and armed with a shoe and a direct line to a responsible adult, all because of a small fluffy creature.

These are the moments in which you realise that a big part of being an adult is being thoroughly ridiculous and that being old enough to fight your own battles doesn’t automatically make you qualified.



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