Saw this li’l gem in my feed today:
And I gotta admit – my first thought was, “Yeah, man! Next on deck’s so fuggin’ lucky they have no idea what they’re in for.” But then I got that twinge inside me that I always get when something sounds really good, but deep down I know it’s just because it coincides with what I want to believe about my narrow, spotless, filter of the world. And self. The twinge that says – yeah, sure, sometimes I think I’ve done so much for the wrong folk (as the graphic above goes); but sometimes I also wonder: what if I did all’a that shiz because they were the wrong people? And I was trying to convince myself they were the right ones by going the extra I’m-in-denial miles for ’em? Because of the fear of dying alone without a fellow species member to clutch onto as Death impales me gleefully with his scythe? Which is stupid, because we all die alone, no matter how well we know Harold-our-husband-of-50-years’ allergies or pill schedules or bowel routines?
The other thing to remember too, is that I’m not perfect or static in my tastes, proclivities, or even compassion (I try, god help me, but I fail a lot). I mean, mayhaps the scales of suckness will balance for a bit when I meet Mister or Missus Deserves-Me. (see: infatuation/honeymoon phase.) But who’s to say that after a while, when that novelty subsides, the itch for the old Tom ‘n Jerry routine mind games won’t come bubbling to the surface? Or my own asshole-y defects won’t begin to kick in? And suddenly I’m the undeserving bish getting all these emotional gifts rocket launched at her thankless ass? Who’s to say I haven’t already been that – and just wasn’t self-aware enough to see it happening? And felt love-suffocated into giving them the prom wave while asking for my house key back? So that I never actually get to the “I can’t imagine what I’ll actually do for the right one” part of the infographic. Admittedly, I do wonder what that’d be. But I’ll tell you one thing it won’t be:
Anal.
Like they say – “Fool me four times, and I must only hate it the way I hate ASMR”*
Sure wish I didn’t destroy self-aggrandizing infographics by inviting my brain into the equation.
Overstays its welcome every damned time.
(*Disclaimer: implied lie; do not engage if you’d like to retain intact phallus)