From Dbag Dating to Accidentally Adult

Adult life is hard to do. I must have always instinctively known this, because I delayed it for a very long time, bouncing around Europe in search of adventures, blog content, and the ultimate happy ending. In 2019, during one sweaty, uncharacteristically grounded New York City summer, my “happy ending” finally found me. On Hinge, the dating app equivalent of Honey Nut Cheerios (basic, boring, satisfying), I met the first guy who looked at me as more than a fun fling, but as a potential life partner. Like in a Netflix single girl rom-com, he also happened to be fun, smart and improbably handsome. Six months later, I moved into his apartment in Chelsea, where we soon quarantined down for the “unprecedented” spring of 2020. Exactly one day short of the anniversary of our first date, I found out I was pregnant.

The one thing Netflix single girl rom-coms don’t tell you, is that most happy endings are usually just the beginning of new and equally messy chapters. That motherhood, regardless of the skyrocketing levels of love you feel for your child, is a completely uprooting experience that lands you miles away from your former self, clad in a daily uniform of biker shorts and a permanent drool stain on your shoulder, obsessing over travel strollers and baby led weaning. That few things are as volatile for a relationship as the sexless, sleep-deprived, hormonal clusterf*ck that is the first year of having a child. That stepping across the threshold of domestic existence may not come as naturally as one expects, and can be filled with a myriad shameful, selfish, conflicting emotions. How did I go from lounging in brasseries to cleaning tiny baby butts all day long? How many more mornings do I have to spend making tubs of oatmeal, when what I really want to do is sit in peace and write? Can I have a drink at 4pm? Can these people make their own oatmeal?!

As I said, adult life, for us inherent responsibility-phobes, is hard to do. So is motherhood, and relationships that surpass the six-month honeymoon stage, and finances that exceed budgeting for yourself and a seven-pound yorkie. While I will never discredit the anxiety that comes with not knowing when–and if–you will meet a person you can build a life with, I don’t think I was ever quite prepared for how challenging the process of actually building said life would be. Staying true to the good old “those who can’t do, teach” adage, I have created Accidentally Adult, a newsletter designed to help us all wade through the tribulations of adult existence, while embracing the perennial sense of imposter syndrome that comes with. At the end of the day, I assume that most of us don’t know what the f*ck we are doing, so we might as well just enjoy the ride and have a laugh along the way.

As for you rare self-assured souls, read along to feel superior by association.

I can’t wait to meet all of you!

MK