I’ll be the first to admit that I am no exception to this rule. Amongst friends, on social networking platforms, to my mother on Skype, even on this very website — I like talking about romantic relationships of all kinds. When I have them, when I don’t, it’s all good. And it’s no surprise. Love, sex, cuddling, romance, intimacy, touch, someone to pick you up from the airport on short notice — we all want these things, to varying degrees, if perhaps in different orders.
In any matter of entertainment, we’ve all seen it: A tortured male singer/ songwriter who only stops whining about his tortured love life just long enough to grow his beard some more; a group of smart, incredibly professionally successful and immaculately dressed women ignoring gunfire, screams, and explosions just outside the chic restaurant window to discuss how John isn’t calling someone back; a group of standard-issue toolbros commiserating over legally-required domestic beers and whiskey shots about how very little poon they’re currently getting and how to remedy this in the most hijinx-filled way possible.
We know what it looks like. We do it. We all nod along with each other’s problems, successes, confused anxiety, and desperation until it’s our turn to ramble. And whether we’re a walking Adele song who can’t buy an avocado without breaking down in the produce aisle about your ex-boyfriend getting married, or in the throes of the honeymoon phase and constantly referencing how everything pales in comparison to the way your partner’s beautiful hair clogs the sink, we’re all guilty. So, for future reference and our collective sanity, here is a brief list of things we can address the next time we’re overwhelmed with the urge to talk about how holding hands just feels soooo good:
- The dimensions, browning, texture, and degree of meltiness of the ideal grilled-cheese sandwich. Also, whether or not the diagonal cut down the middle is only good to demonstrate in commercials the stretchiness of the cheese, and actually makes the sandwich cool down too quickly.
- Which television series is most an insult to our collective intelligence: Whitney, Two Broke Girls, or New Girl. (Answer: The Big Bang Theory). Bonus question: Does Sheldon single-handedly redeem that abomination?
- Whether the concept of planking as a generational marker is more horrifying than the word “swag.”
- Why people on Tumblr actually argue, in all seriousness and blinding earnesty, about how the word “muggle” is offensive, ableist, and racist.
- The concept of humblebragging as it pertains to Twitter, and whether or not a Twitter account in and of itself is not just a perpetual, albeit subtle, humblebrag about whatever we’re doing at a given moment.
- Why God saw fit to bless Khloe Kardashian with what is ostensibly a real, functioning personality, then stick her in that family.
- Whether or not Joan is an admirable character on Mad Men, without letting your answer be influenced by her face-melting cleavage.
- Why the often harsh, judgmental rap community has welcomed Jimmy from Degrassi with such a warm, unmocking embrace.
If you run out of solutions, I recommend eating or staring each other blankly until you reach at least the 20-minute point without relationship-based conversation. And please, add your own suggestions as to what we could talk about when all we can think of is how awesome it would be to have sex in a Snuggie when it’s cold like this.