by Stop Romanticizing Bullshit
— A Stand-Up Comedy Special That Says What Your Therapist Wants to But Can’t Without Getting Sued
INTRO (Stage Walk-On):
(Spotlight hits. The mic stand looks romantic. That’s a trap.)
“Good evening, beautiful liars and delusional dreamers! Tonight’s show is called ‘Stop Romanticizing Bullshit’ — because apparently, we as a society have decided that suffering is hot, chaos is cute, and trauma is a personality type. And I’m here to gently but firmly wrestle that glitter-covered nonsense right out of your vision board.
You know what we romanticize now? Everything. Depression, being broke, dating the emotionally unavailable. Folks out here thinking gaslighting is just astrology with bad grammar.
You ever hear someone say, ‘I just love a man with issues’? No you don’t, Jessica. You love a man who can act like he reads Murakami while ghosting you through six different time zones.
So buckle in, light that scented candle of self-awareness, and let’s stop putting a gold frame on a dumpster fire.”
Living in the Past
People say, “I wish I lived in the 1400s!”
Yeah? You sure about that, Lord Yeet of Scabies?
Because in the 1400s, a “fun night out” was public execution and dysentery wine.
You know what they didn’t have? Therapy. You know what they did have? Demonic possession and bloodletting as foreplay.
And if you were a woman? Let’s just say your most progressive option was “witch.”
War
“Oh, I would’ve been a badass in WW2.” No you wouldn’t. You can’t even handle passive-aggressive emails from Karen in Accounting.
You would’ve cried during bayonet training because your uniform was itchy.
The only war most people can handle now is a comment thread on Facebook.
And even then, you lose to someone named “Doug1776Constitution.”
Living Off the Grid
Yeah, you’ll “live off the land” until you meet a mosquito the size of a Subway sandwich.
You’ll be calling DoorDash with a pigeon and some string.
No running water, no electricity, just you and your thoughts.
Which, by the way, you hate. That’s why you scroll TikTok at 3AM.
And let’s talk bathrooms. “Compost toilet”? Bro, that’s just poop with marketing.
Dating the Bad Boy
You want a guy with neck tattoos and emotional baggage?
Congratulations, you’re not dating—you’re building a haunted house out of red flags.
You say “he’s misunderstood.” No, he’s unemployed and allergic to accountability.
You’re not his girlfriend, you’re his unpaid parole officer.
And fixing him? That’s a full-time job with no benefits and mandatory tears.
Climbing Everest
It costs $60,000 to climb Everest. Sixty grand! For what?
To die on a frozen hill where Sherpas carry your lazy ass while you brag about your “journey”?
People who climb Everest post about it like they survived the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, their oxygen tank was carried by a guy in flip-flops chewing gum.
The real flex is climbing stairs in a mall without wheezing. Everest? That’s just expensive altitude-induced stupidity.
Sex on the Beach
Sex on the beach sounds sexy until you get sand in a place that requires a dermatologist and a priest.
It’s like exfoliation meets litigation.
You ever try to look seductive while being attacked by a crab?
That’s not foreplay. That’s a Pixar short gone horribly wrong.
And let’s not forget the tide. One minute it’s romance, the next, Poseidon’s got your boxers.
Renovating Old Homes
You ever seen someone buy a Victorian house? They walk in like it’s a Hallmark movie.
Two weeks later they’re Googling “how to survive a raccoon infestation with dignity.”
They find old wallpaper and get excited. “It’s so vintage!”
No. That’s mold. That’s 1890s black mold. That’s tuberculosis you can peel off.
Then there’s always the one rotting beam they call “character.” Sir, that’s collapse. You just bought a very expensive antique trap.
The Mafia
You think mobsters are sexy because of HBO.
In real life, it’s sweaty men in track suits yelling “you disrespectin’ me?” over lasagna.
Being in the mob means you can’t trust your friends, your family, or your pasta not to be bugged.
Imagine every dinner could end with either marinara or murder. Or both!
And when you’re a low-level guy, you’re not doing hits. You’re doing dry cleaning and hiding dead birds in ravioli for intimidation purposes.
Business Travel
“Oh, I love traveling for work!” Shut up, Greg.
You’ve been to the inside of six airports and one Chili’s.
Every hotel room looks like the last. Same gray carpet, same chair no one’s allowed to sit in without pants.
You’re not exploring the world—you’re crying into a continental breakfast.
And you know what they call “free time” on business trips? It’s the 14 minutes between Zoom calls where you question your degree.
Being Stalked
People think being stalked is romantic—until it’s 2AM and someone’s tapping Morse code on your bedroom window with their forehead.
He’s not mysterious. He’s a felon with a FitBit.
“Oh, but he texts me every day!” That’s not love, sweetie. That’s Verizon building a legal case.
And those romance novels? The guy didn’t “watch her sleep lovingly.” He broke into her house and borrowed her shampoo.
Pirates
You think being a pirate is all “yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum”?
Try 17th-century scabies and a diet of wet rope and regret.
You didn’t sail the high seas. You floated in a wooden bathtub with 30 guys named “Rotten Mike.”
And “treasure”? The real loot was… spices. You died in a sword fight over nutmeg. That’s not a legacy. That’s seasoning-based homicide.
Threesomes
They sound sexy until you’re halfway through and someone asks, “So… what are we?”
Suddenly it’s not sex, it’s a group project with no syllabus.
And let me tell you: there’s always a third wheel. Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s awkward eye contact with the IKEA lamp.
Threesomes are like tacos. Everyone wants one until the logistics hit. Then someone cries and the dog starts licking something inappropriate.
Starting a Business
Be your own boss! Live the dream!
And by “dream,” we mean night sweats, unpaid invoices, and eating peanut butter with a fork.
Your website’s down, your accountant’s on a spiritual retreat, and your only client is your cousin who “pays in exposure.”
Entrepreneurship is just capitalism’s version of squid games—except the winner gets taxed.
Depression
People say, “I’m quirky and sad like a misunderstood genius.”
No. You’re dehydrated and refusing to open your blinds.
Depression isn’t poetry. It’s eating cereal with a fork because you haven’t done dishes since Labor Day.
It’s rewatching the same Netflix show while wearing the same shirt until your cat stages an intervention.
Being a Manager
Being a manager is just being the parent of 30 adults who don’t know how to CC in an email.
You’re not leading a team—you’re refereeing a passive-aggressive bake sale.
You thought you’d be respected. Now you cry quietly in your car while Carl argues about paperclip quotas.
And don’t get me started on “team building retreats.” That’s just camping with Susan from HR and her gluten-free tarot deck.
“So, what have we learned tonight?
Hopefully, that romanticizing bullshit is exactly that—bullshit. Not a vibe. Not a phase. Not your ‘healing era.’
Let’s stop glorifying emotional damage like it’s vintage couture. You don’t need a breakup to become interesting. You don’t need to survive Everest to write a decent memoir. And no, Cheryl, managing a team of underqualified marketing interns is not your hero’s journey.
We’ve been sold this Instagram version of life—pain in soft lighting, trauma in linen pants, heartbreak with latte art. But real life? Real life is unfiltered, unedited, and does not come with an indie soundtrack. And that’s okay!
The truth is, growth doesn’t come from glamorizing your breakdown. It comes from getting up, doing the boring stuff, setting boundaries, and maybe—just maybe—not calling your situationship ‘a test from the universe.’
So next time you catch yourself romanticizing bullshit—whether it’s war, poverty, bad boys, or even your own stress rash—remember this:
You don’t need to suffer to matter. You don’t need to implode to evolve. You can heal without hashtags. And you can be happy without being dramatic about it.
Because peace? Peace is underrated. You ever met someone who goes to bed at 10 and drinks water? That’s enlightenment.
Thank you and good night—now go out there and stop treating red flags like Valentine’s decorations.”
So let’s stop romanticizing dysfunction, misery, and sand-related trauma.
Let’s start celebrating real magic: 8 hours of sleep, a partner who texts back, and a job where you don’t have to explain Excel formulas to someone with a neck tattoo that says “CEO of Vibes.”
Thank you, goodnight—and remember: you’re not broken, you’re just temporarily confused by capitalism and Nicholas Sparks movies.
