retired advice guru
unsolicited, unappreciated, and kinda over it.
i hate giving advice.
like, i really fucking hate it.
not because i don’t care — oh trust me, i do. probably too much. that’s actually the problem.
see, when i give advice, i don’t half-ass it. i think. i calculate. i give advice like i’m applying for a job i don’t even want—carefully worded, emotionally considered, with just the right amount of truth so it doesn’t cut too deep. i mentally run through a list of possible outcomes, trying to avoid wrecking your life and your self-esteem. i put in the emotional labor.
and what do i get?
"tama jud ka, bes.” (you’re right, bestie)
then you go and do the exact opposite.
every. single. time.
people (especially my closest ones) have always come to me for advice. love life? i got you. friend drama? spill. existential crisis? pull up. sometimes they don’t even ask and i still serve it — unsolicited, but always with heart. i’d pour my thoughts into helping them figure things out, hoping they’d take something from it. and you know what i got in return? ghosted by their common sense.
and the thing is… i hate being wrong too. not in a prideful way, but in a < i care too much and now i’m part of your downfall > kind of way. like that one time i basically encouraged a friend to stay being a third party because she looked genuinely happy. stupid of me, i know. i wanted her to feel loved, but at what cost? the whole situation blew up in her face, and it lowkey splashed on mine too. so yeah — lesson learned. sometimes the only time they’ll take your advice seriously is when it’s the worst possible one.
and yet… i still give advice.
because deep down, i’m scared of being seen as the “boring friend.” the one who ignore and scrolls. like no, i want to be involved. i want to help. i want to be the chaotic voice of reason. but clearly, no one’s listening.. even when i know they won’t listen. even when i know it’ll backfire. even when i don’t want to.
what do i wish they’d do instead?
honestly? just tell me if you’re not gonna take it. don’t agree then dive headfirst into the same mess you cried about yesterday (coz as far as i could remember they come to me a day after a mess). don’t leave me hanging like my words didn’t matter. give me something — anything. even just a “di ko sure” would’ve sufficed. but silence? silence makes me spiral. now i’m sitting there wondering if my advice sucked, if i hurt your feelings, if you think i’m a judgmental bitch (i probably am but like, say it).
but anyway.
that was the old me. though i still cling to that “old me” bitch sometimes but these days? i mind my business. i no longer carry other people’s emotional homework. i’ve accepted that i can’t control anyone’s actions but mine. i just watch. quietly. maybe a little judgmentally. i see people pick the worst option and “okay? lol.” i still care, i just don’t interfere. because why should i stress over a story i didn’t write?
and honestly? it’s entertaining now.
people love the drama. they say they want peace, but choose chaos every single time. like girl, pick a struggle. pick a poison. you either want a boring, healthy love/life or not. either way, don’t drag me into it unless you're ready for honesty.
me? i live for watching the plot unfold.
i learn from other people’s messes so i don’t have to make my own. is that evil? maybe. but also kinda genius. some people touch the stove and get burned. i watch and learn.
but a quick question:
why is it that single bitches like me ace the advice-giving assignment every single time? is this a skill you only unlock when you’re romantically unemployed? because i swear, the clarity is divine. and no, it’s not bitterness. my advice actually makes sense. like, is common sense just not included when you're in love? is that something you can trade? 'cause if so, i would never. sorry.
so yeah.
if you’re gonna ask me for advice, know this: i’ll give it with love, with care, and with a hint of sass. but don’t waste my time if you’re just looking for someone to validate your mess cause that’s one thing i’ll never do again — but you might be lucky if i actually wanna ruin your life and give you that.
go to church or something.
xoxo, your retired advice guru.
you made uncertainty feel like a kind of peace. there’s something so real about admitting you’re tired of being the one who knows. i felt seen in this—deeply.
Sooooo beautiful twinny!!!
Hey Aster…. I had to say something.
From a very heterosexual guy’s perspective… this is spot on. And I’ll be damned if I don’t speak up.
A woman who writes with this kind of clarity and wit….that’s someone I want in my life. In any capacity. Friend, muse, co-conspirator, lifeline. And just to be clear: I’m not one of those “friend zone” types. I’m fully capable of being deeply attracted to a woman and still valuing her company, her thoughts, her presence, without it being about getting somewhere.
When that kind of connection exists, the air shifts. It’s not about sex. That part’s already understood, quietly and mutually. The barrier that so often clouds male-female dynamics disappears, and what’s left is something rare: clean energy. Mutual respect. Real companionship.
Now, as for the advice thing? God, yes. It’s like some paradoxical curse. The emotionally aware ones…. the ones who actually listen, and offer thoughtful, grounded advice….we tend to be the ones watching from the sidelines as the people we care about swan-dive back into disaster. Almost like clockwork. It’s brutal, but there’s truth in it.
What you wrote hit hard because it’s not bitter. It’s lucid. It’s self-aware. And yeah — watching the mess from a safe distance, learning without the scars? That’s not evil. That’s wisdom.
Anyway, I’m not here to impress. I just wanted to say thank you for putting something out there that reminded me I’m not the only one thinking this way.
~J