Time for Your Big Girl Shoes

Time for Your Big Girl Shoes
So, as a recently graduated young woman, I find the group female pity pow-wows to be rather exhausting. It seems now that whenever a female friend breaks up with her boyfriend, has a fight with her mom, or has a tensioned run-in with her super-intendent, my roommate sends me a text saying, “so-and-so had a rough day, so I’m inviting her over.” Fine, sit on my couch if you want to and eat all the ice cream in the fridge. It was freezer-burned anyway and I could use someone to eat all the left-overs accumulating in the back. But somewhere in between their gushing and my roommate’s consoling,I ‘m expected to stop my day of emotional maturity and adult functionality and hash-out your crisis. What? I’m not your romantic partner who just dumped you. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see anything you didn’t see. All I’m getting are some random details that you’ve overanalyzed and obsessed about, along with some quotes that you’ve memorized on the train ride over, and you expect me to somehow piece this all together for you? I’m an adult woman, and so are you. Deal with your shit.