Or I could be wrong about being wrong…
It dawned on me today that many of my posts that are intended to be humorous are about ill-fated love. For a second I’m going to write about this seriously, because true love is not something one should speak about lightly.
Love is a wonderful thing. When you’re in the throes of it, it can lift your spirits like nothing else (other than weed, acid, sex, when your football team wins, getting a raise, driving a new car, winning the lottery, finally cleaning your desk at work, matching all your socks when they come out of the dryer, really good pizza, your favorite movie, runners high, getting the last parking space, etc.). But when you’re not in the throes of it, you wish you were. This feeling has directly caused the following: teen angst, masturbation and emo music (all three are pretty much the same thing).
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think true love is impossible. Surely there are enough examples in the world to disprove that idea. I guess I’m just skeptical that there’s someone out there right for me*. But I’ve been wrong before. And I can be wrong again.
*I’m pretty sure Olivia Wilde is that person, but she’s already married.
