What It Means To Be Real

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You’re the realest motherfucker on here,” is a comment I get a lot. I’m guessing it’s because of my writing voice, since y’all don’t know me from Adam on the streets, or in the office, or at the bar. (Most of you, anyway. Some of you have had the displeasure of meeting me in real life.)

It’s worth unpacking what it means to be “real,” because, inevitably, it’s something we value in most people — or, more accurately, it’s the opposite of “fake,” which is something we tend to not value in people. But what does “real” really mean? (Great fucking sentence, john. Really.) How do you become the “realest motherfucker on here?” And is that necessarily a good thing? We’ll find out together, but first, let’s break down what real is not:

Real is NOT: Brutal Honesty

Is your friend’s art-rock project overwrought, derivative and boring AF? Does your kid bake you brownies that taste like cocoa-flavored cement? Does your boyfriend treat oral sex like open-heart surgery? I ache for you. That said, don’t tell them literally those things — not even with the qualifying follow-up of, “I’m just being real with you.” No. You’re being a dick.
Also, those of you framing life lessons as “brutal truths” in headlines for clicks? I see you. That ain’t real, either, and nor are they brutal truths. They’re just fresh frames for the same lenses, through which you spit the same tired-ass words everyone’s read dozens of times.

Real is NOT: Acting Without Decorum

You know those motherfuckers in the bar who yell and curse out the bartender when the service is slow? Or the ones who are quick to quip that you look “tired?” Or ask you, “How many Muppets died in the making of that jacket?” (Okay, that last one is kinda funny.) The ones who ghost you on Friday because better plans with someone more likely to not treat oral sex like open heart surgery came along? Also not real. That’s just being tactless.

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