And none of it matters: that’s the best and worst part, whatever the topics or range of topics, the crossfire is totally inconsequential.
The more you want something involving more than yourself, the less likely it seems to work out.
Nothing is just “for… nerds” anymore. Everything is accessible, streamlined and recycled ad nauseum.
Every year we lose things: jobs, girlfriends, relatives, and the detritus of our past gets kicked alongside, some of it for years after. The most telling of those relics, buoyed along with our steps, begin to contort and change face and take on meaning by the fact of their sheer staying power.
Maybe you really truly want to bring someone to her senses. Maybe, deep down, you really truly believe you’re saying what everyone else is thinking, or, more so, need to be thinking if they plan on sleeping at night/living with themselves. Who knows what you think other people ought to believe better than you, right?
I stared out my window. I popped out my eyes. Then I shook. What I saw was a shocking surprise! Every 20-something for miles, the tall and the small, was singing! Without any irony at all!
I don’t think it’s what you like, or even what you’re like that really bonds two people. Instead it’s what you don’t like and what you aren’t like provide a stronger cohesive. You won’t always be able to go hiking or skiing or to the movies or a concert via time or energy or finances or whatever else. But you’ll always be able to fall back on the compatibility of your reactions.
According to the personal relations bible, High Fidelity (movie or book), “It’s not what you’re like, it’s what you like.”
Breaking up isn’t hard to do, but losing a friend is. Breaking up has the same remedy every time: you wallow, you come out of it, and you stumble on. Sex and dates and inside jokes and being unable to take your eyes off someone else’s are eventually all just facsimiles. But a friend is independent of those repetitions.
The highest echelon of low profile is still maintainable as f#*k.