A Tough Time to be Twenty?

Ahh, the Facebook envy.

Ah, these media-frenzied times that we live in. For anyone who picks up a newspaper every once in a while or tunes into the rolling broadcasts that frequent our television sets, it would appear that we are living in the worst times possible. Aren’t we youngsters miserable, stuck living in our parent’s spare room or having nervous breakdowns a la Amanda Bynes? We’re working for free because although we paid an extortionate amount to put ourselves through university, a decent degree doesn’t mean too much these days. We are pretty sure that we won’t be signing up for mortgages until we reach our mid-forties and all whilst simultaneously attempting to pay off our credit card debt. Yes, it all sounds terribly depressing. Ask anyone from the age of eighteen to thirty and they might tell you just how much generation Y has been short-changed.

However, it may not be the times that we live in but the access that we have to everyone’s lives. Back in the 1960s when my parents were growing up, times were just as hard. My father worked three jobs just to save up for his first car- a battered vehicle I’m not entirely sure was road-worthy. My mother moved out from her parents house when she left school, into a cold dark flat that she shared with three other girls. Heating was a luxury and they hand-crafted the latest fashions with the help of a sewing machine - thankfully, ra-ra skirts were in fashion that year. Neither of them even had the opportunity of further education, let alone a graduate job. The main difference between their generation and ours? Technology.

We live in a media-centred society. When house prices go up, the press take to scaremongering young people that they’ll never have their foot on the ladder. Rolling news of young celebrities in crisis taking drugs are featured regularly. Social media is the worst culprit. Holiday pictures paraded on Instagram, Facebook statuses depicting new job opportunities, exam results posted up for everyone to see. This is an unhealthy glimpse into everyone else’s lives and a terrible temptation to compare your life to others.

Taylor knows what its like to be 22. Sort of.

I’m not suggesting we go back to the good old days. Instead, I think it is time to appreciate just how far we have come. Whilst we don’t have it all, we have much more freedom and choice than those of previous generations. However, with wider choice comes wider ambition. Perfect house, perfect relationship and perfect job all by the time we are thirty? It just isn't possible.

Ultimately, our lives haven’t changed. Being in your twenties is still a time of being unsettled and attempting to find yourself in the world. You will make some terrible relationship choices, some wrong job choices, even some questionable outfit choices. It will be a struggle. However, every small victory- be it your first car (paid for with your own hard-earned cash), your first door key (rented or otherwise) or that first big career break will feel even better knowing you have truly worked for it. Honestly? Pour yourself a large glass of wine and give yourself a break - your twenties will be over before you know it.

The rise of the Facebook 'relationship' police

Picture the scene, if you will. Not dissimilar from what I imagine a low-rent version of Sex and The City to be like (albeit with less sex and set in a crumbling town in the South East of England.) There are five girls drinking pretentiously-priced cocktails and droning on about reality television, diet regimes and their favourite subject: men. This is of course, entirely stereotypical. They probably buy their tan in bottles and their meals from Pret A Manger. For those of you unfamiliar with this situation, this is a chance for these women to either slate their partner to high heaven: “He wears WHITE shoes For God’s sake! Who wears WHITE shoes?” or indeed, brag about just how fantastic they are. It involves a lot of patience and waiting your turn, usually a copious amount of alcohol and cake and the excessive use of those four words: “You can do better.”

This session is like no other. It is filled with gushes of “Oh but he is so gorgeous!” and “Tom bought me a DINOSAUR for my birthday!” When the metaphorical relationship baton is passed around the table to my friend Amy, she remains casual and tells us that yes, she has finally found someone, and no, this one doesn’t share similar facial features to Frodo Baggins. There are knowing smiles and a mixture of girlish excitement until one announces:

“But it’s not Facebook official!”

Of course. Facebook. The all-seeing and all-knowing virtual God of the web. The very reason we are alive.  Apparently, everyone knows it isn’t a real relationship until it has been spread across a web page for your 1,127 ‘friends’ to see (including your mum’s best friend and that girl from work’s hamster.) Surely this is added pressure upon a new couple? Surely someone should be penning a book on Facebook etiquette. Do you rush home and load up your PC as soon as she’s dropped her knickers? (“sorry love, just got to change my status…”) Must you wait until you’ve met her parents, held her hair back whilst she is sick and discussed the 12 children you’re having?

As with any affair, not all last forever. This fallout must be considered in the virtual world. Nothing makes me more depressed than logging on my page to be faced with an acquaintance as ‘no longer in a relationship.’ How subtle that they choose to adorn this announcement with a broken heart, a visual indication of the poor bastard is feeling. Beneath the message of sorrow are endless comments of mourning and condolence lacking sentiment: ‘Hope ur ok babez’, that whilst making them regret the initial decision to even change their status, gives them all the comfort of wanting to stab themselves in the eye with a rusty nail.

Equally as annoying are the attention seekers. Everyone has one on their news feed. That couple that decide that ‘it’s complicated’ is a necessary status after every petty argument. Let’s be honest, now. It isn’t complicated. It’s quite simple, really. Either go your separate ways or refrain from displaying your life on a social networking site. Now, please stop clogging up my news-feed, or I’ll have to be using those three highly unromantic little words: ‘Remove. As. Friend.’