Tap here to turn on desktop notifications to get the news sent straight to you. My genius observation is this: Dating in your 20s is the exact same as eating an avocado. And no, not only in the "both avo and relationships are ridiculously expensive" way. Avo and dating in your 20s are the exact same in every single scenario ever. Here are the six similarities between avocado and dating in your twenties: You committed too early.
You knew it in your soul that when you cut into that avocado it wasn't ready. You pushed it too fast, too soon. Even after feeling the hard exterior of its shell you decided to go for it anyway.
Big effing mistake, because your avo was hard and totally unresponsive to your efforts. And don't even try to talk your way out of this one because you knew that the avocado wasn't ready, dude. So really you only have yourself to blame for it not working. You freaked the unready avo out, and now it's going to make you pay for it by being a watery, unmashable mess. Avo shit one, m8. You have a phobia of commitment. You were too scared to commit to the avo and now you've left it too late.
It was sitting there on your benchtop, being pretty and soft and vulnerable and all it wanted was to be yours. But you missed your window. Avos don't wait for long.
Especially the good ones. And now your avo has moved away to BinCity and you're over here in SingleVille. OR You waited too long because you're a game player. You flirted with the idea of incorporating avo into your lunch in earshot of the avocado, which caused it to hold a glimmer of hope, you cruel wench , but then you went and had a chia pudding instead. The avocado felt betrayed. It didn't like your game-playing antics. That's why when someone else most likely your sibling came home craving a healthy, calorie-dense snack -- POOF -- your avocado was gone forever.
It's sad really, because your wanky chia pudding wasn't as satisfying as you thought it would be and you really wish you followed through on your promise to the avocado, but now someone else is enjoying your avo's company, and you are sad and alone. You tried to change them. So you went into this avocado with great hopes.
From the outside, it was a great consistency, everything just felt right. You peeled back the avo's outer layer and saw its insides, and Oh My Lord this avo's insides are weird.
Like, this avo is into quirky fetish sex stuff and insists on you dressing up like an Ewok when you do the business. Also, this avo's flesh is covered in weird specks of grey.
This grey Ewok business is not what you had envisaged at all. You try to make it work, and you try to remove the grey areas and slowly stop dressing like an Ewok, but its weirdness runs so deeply there's just no saving it. The Ewok fetish and gross grey specks are parts of the avo. Shame on you for trying to remove the avo's imperfections. Just because this avo is wrong for you, doesn't give you the right to change it. Again, you're a heartless wench.
It's not good for you. It's actually really, really bad. OK so you're dating guacamole. And let's all be honest here, you knew Guac was trouble from the get-go. You love the taste of it, but Guac keeps leading you to eat sour cream and cheese and nacho chips which are unhealthy AF. The final straw is when guacamole cheats on you on New Years Eve confession: You then realize that you only went to guacamole because you felt bad about yourself and you found comfort in his its salty smooth embrace.
Sometimes you miss eating guacamole, but not really because Guac was really just an asshat. You're constantly hearing people talk about how good avocados are. Your friends are all avocado-crazy, and you just don't get it. Whenever you try one out, it tastes funny. You have no idea what all the fuss is about, and why people are willing to spend so much time and money on this weird, pretty-much-tasteless food. That's okay, it's something you'll probably grow to want in a few years' time, and if you don't that's totally cool, some people will never want an avo, that's A-OK!
Maybe you're A vocado Sexual? You've found the one. My God, you've done it. You've actually done it. You trawled the aisle of Coles for weeks and you finally found what you were looking for. You've secured the perfect avocado. This is what dreams are made of. You rush home and immediately take pillow selfies with your avo. You hold hands with your avo by the ocean.
You take photos of you and avo doing nose-kisses and immediately post them to Instagram. You also hold hands with ur avo by pools in a totally candid and not-at-all-set-up super chill, laid back way. This avo is just as perfect on the inside as it is on the outside, and it's all yours. It goes great with everything, and it's so easy to blend into your life toast.
This avo has shown you that love does exist. There's just one thing, though. Like, sure, you found this avocado and that's great, but you also know that there's definitely an avocado that's just as good -- hell maybe even better -- across the globe living in Istanbul or something.
Come to think of it, there are probably thousands of avos who you could be just as happy with! Soooo wait a second Shit, soulmates don't even exist. You break up with Perfect Avo, and you go traveling across Europe with your four of your closest mates instead because this is your 20s and nobody is going to hold you down and we're too young to settle so you're gonna go to Istanbul and maybe have a fling with European Avo and really live.
I'll leave you with this very important lesson: I really, really hope someone out there appreciates the fact that I actually photoshopped a pair of avocados into a photo of Alexis Ren and Jay Alvarrez.
Because, you guys, that happened. That was a thing that I did.