Was talking about the joys of dating last night with a friend. No, two friends. It's a constant in the conversational flow: dating, quarantine, and the never-ending absurdity of US politics.
Doesn't dating get old? Yes.
Shitting on it even older? Of course.
But we keep doing it because the older we get, the better we get at lying to ourselves. It's the only way to survive. You mean if I let my teeth fall out and hoard them under my sweaty pillow, a beautiful fairy won't gift me cash? I don't believe you today.
I'm gonna ignore my stylist, and dye my Arab hair platinum so I can walk around my house in a mini rainbow skirt and go-go boots. Rainbow Brite is a style icon.
One day, I will find a delicious unicorn person who shits rainbows and never uses my toothbrush. One day, I will be loved unconditionally by them, like my perfect mother loved me before my child brain could process colors and feelings. One day, I will find the exact person to talk me down from my Two Buck Chuck ledge, and peel my waterfall face from this stinky oversized beanbag to make out with me like starving woodland creatures at a peanut butter factory explosion. One day ...