We Just Want Someone When The World Ends
If frantic reports filled news networks today stating that a giant meteor was approaching rapidly and we have a week — tops — to live who would be the first people to cross your mind? It’s safe to say that family and close friends would rank high on many lists, but what about romantic companions? If ever there were an unfortunate time to be single, this scenario is it. So often, single folks grumble over their loneliness and are told to relax because, “It’s not the end of the world.” Well now it is, and most people aren’t keen on the idea of dying without arms to rest in, or a hand to hold.
Sometimes it’s hard to appreciate the routine days that we criticize for their monotonous feel. The humdrum stretches of life that consist of us waking up, handling responsibilities, going to sleep and repeating make us forget how lucky we are. The fact that this unpredictable world has managed to preserve life for another day is worthy of some credit. And while everything is fine right now, in the back of our minds we’re well aware that it could change in an instant.
Tomorrow or the next day could be the start of a universal disaster. Maybe not in the form of slow stumbling, flesh eating zombies or Hollywood special effect filled catastrophes, but then again, maybe so. Who’s really to say? Whatever form the apocalypse presents itself in would make where we currently are (geographically and social status-wise) irrelevant, but who we’re with everything.
When we expect next week, next month, next year to happen, being alone is fathomable, because we have more time. We’ve already RSVP’d to an event that isn’t promised. If an expiration date is put on life, being solo is a much tougher pill to swallow. I don’t care how much you enjoy cats, playing solitaire or walking around naked 24/7 — it’d suck to be a party of one in the event of earth going kaput.
Surely there are those who feel completely content being by themselves, but it’s not always easy to recognize that we don’t like being alone. It may not even click until the right situation presents itself. You’re out with a number of people and you realize that you are the third, fifth, seventh wheel. Usually everyone else is holding hands and you’re holding some type of greasy, fried, subconscious, coping mechanism snack when it hits you. Note, the higher the amount of couples, the greener the grass on the relationship side will appear. I’ve never played ninth wheel, but I’d imagine that it feels something like glass shards to the heart.
The scary thing is that the end of days doesn’t even necessarily have to be on a grand scale. There are plenty of potential misfortunes lurking daily. Unfortunate occurrences, a variety of diseases — anything can lead to an individual’s demise. Knowing that our days are numbered is one thing, but feeling like you might have a pretty good estimate of the exact total is another. A conclusion to our own, personal world while everyone else keeps moving is a terrifying concept that we all must accept.
It’s possible that some people are genuinely happy with only having to look after themselves, but it’s under particular terms and conditions. The happiness holds up barring any unexpected tragedy or human-life altering crisis. Obviously we can’t force relationships or live life surrounded by caution tape — but we can embrace potential love when it hits us like a Mack Truck. (Because if you get hit by an actual Mack Truck, that’s definitely going to be the end of your world.)
So what do we know right in this very moment? Well we know that I Am Legend, Cloverfield, and The Walking Dead aren’t happening outside of our windows. We can leave our homes without having the Statue of Liberty’s head thrown at us by an enormous monster. There are no puppet master, nocturnal people moving mannequins to play tricks on our minds. And there certainly aren’t human meat craving, dead people roaming the streets. With all of that in mind, is it easier to be okay with a lack of romance in our day? Probably. But what if that changes? We can’t just have on-call lovers who we’ll only get a hold of in the event of the world ending. Oh, hey — if I feel the urge to snuggle before the asteroid makes impact, I just might text you. It doesn’t work that way. All we can really hope for is someone awesome enough to come along when life’s peachy, and make us feel strongly enough to want them around, despite the world being intact for the foreseeable future.
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7. Visiting the beautiful Milwaukee Art Museum.
Bonus points if you actually use different voices/accents for the different people in the imaginary conversation. That is a prestigious level of shower insanity.
I had a number of other essays I wanted to write tonight. There were other topics that deserved attention, essays I humbly felt might shed light on the human condition, on the difficulties and odd experiences we all deal with on a daily basis. But here I am, writing a defense of pubic hair.
6. The Usual Suspects