When I first heard this song, I thought to myself “This is so dumb. WTF?” Then I began to involuntarily move my body back and forth and before I knew it, I was dancing! “Damn you, homosexuality!” I screamed at the ceiling. “Damn you all to hell!” You know a song is really gay when, despite its idiocy, you find yourself dancing your ass off to it.
Listen, I want you to truly appreciate my sustained effort to pretend to be a reasonable human being. I’ve gone days without texting you, multiple days without texting you, three whole days without texting you. The cumulative willpower illustrated by this should leave your mind utterly boggled, exceedingly boggled.
Some of us are here looking for love. Some of us are here looking for sex. Some of us are here looking for a simple date, a way to pass the time in this swamp full of transients. Many would take any one of the three, depending on the difficulty of the day and the phase of the moon…
Sometimes, when in situations like these, you find yourself in a conversation where the rules are that you have to keep making up these clever little witticisms to stay in the conversation. It is like a verbal game of ping pong.
People have very clear ideas on what abuse is. Abuse is physical, or abuse is between man and woman, or abuse is between parent and child; abuse is verbal, mental; abuse happens in romantic relationships and marriages and in between the walls of a house where no one can see in. But abuse is not just that.
I think the “I love you” is wildly important, which is why the idea of it as a pawn in the battle of who holds the cards in the relationship rubbed me the wrong way. At first…
The Chainsmoker is equal parts gross and impressive. They’re that person who lights their next cigarette with the cherry of their last one. They’re the person you don’t even bother asking, “Didn’t you just have one?”
The Party Girl still hits the old haunts, but now it’s mostly to reminisce with her bartender friends about old crazy antics instead of to create new mayhem. She used to sleep with the band guy back in the day, and now when she runs into him on the street she is stunned by how old and tired he looks; all gin blossoms and jowl.
I feel sorry for ugly people. Actually, that’s not true, but it’s a thought I deliberately generate sometimes in order to feel like I’m a good and caring person.
I mean, I’m pretty much the picture of sexual health unless, I dunno, maybe I get drunk or kind of high and she has good eye makeup and it’s a public restroom or library or rooftop and the weather’s decent and — okay, so I’ve made some mistakes, but this is the price I pay for it?
Men, the following is a guide for whether I would sleep with you, based on your shoes. Women, although I cannot presume you share my taste in men (and, apparently, Asics), the red flag shoes should be universal.
You’re not over this person probably because they could never love you back the way you wanted them to, the way you needed them to. They were a defective toy that couldn’t be fixed at the shop. This made you so angry and so sad and you tried just so damn hard and everyone knew it but it didn’t work.
A twentysomething’s idea of “work attire” can often be anything but. A button down you wore to your graduation matched with dirty black skinny jeans and boat shoes doesn’t exactly scream “401k” but whatever, we’re all cute and figuring it out!
By introducing a quiet person to a group as a “quiet person,” the quiet person is instantly a) categorized without having input, perhaps ruining any chance of making their own first impression and b) denied the option of being seen as a normal social individual, in the case that today is one of the days that the quiet person is going to try to enhance his conversational output to “normal.”
What do you have to lose? The answer is: the cost of 1-3 beers, pride (if you happen to run into an ex), and time if it doesn’t work out.
The funny quiet person has a really quirky, surprisingly clever sense of humor and quick wit and as such is that much more endearing. In fact the funny quiet person is perhaps the only type of quiet person that’s capable of being the center of attention while maintaining total conversational efficiency, e.g. Mitch Hedberg.
And it’s not just that the characters find themselves in depressing situation after depressing situation (well, they kind of do), it’s the fact that the scope of the novel makes every depressing instance so much more tragic because you’re highly familiar with what lead each character to the sad place they’re in currently.
Perhaps in a childish, roller-coaster-thrill kind of way we like people who don’t treat us very well, but when we think about who is really worth our time and our love, it is not that kind of person. At least, it shouldn’t be.