There’s a pleasant, dull kind of safety that comes with rendering yourself unlovable.
I guess it’s our way of beating life to the punch-line, writing ourselves as victims before another’s able to. We identify our flaws, write out a long list of weaknesses and place them under a crooked magnifying glass. We inspect them, we accept them; we allow them to skew our perceptions of self — allow them to define who we are.
We all have our own, unique ideas on what makes a person attractive; what makes a person special — what exactly comprises a person’s loveability. Usually, they’re qualities that we admire, qualities we aspire to attain — qualities that we, ourselves, don’t believe we possess. It remains a sad truth that love is all too often either fueled or hindered by personal feelings of inadequacy. It really can come down to the toss of a coin. You see, in the mine-laden field of romance, love and self-esteem are the most notorious of frenemies. They’re the Lennon and McCartney, the Churchill and Stalin, the Paris and Nicole; always to-ing and fro-ing with aggressive uncertainty and tactical sabotage.
Yet we soldier on regardless; seeking out shelter in good humor — in the rising new-age brand of self-depreciation. It worked for Tina Fey and Lena Dunham, after all. These days, nothing sparks a true belly-laugh quite like the endless shortcomings of a quick-witted, perpetually misfortunate modern-day romantic. I suppose you could say that pathetic has become the new black; undesirability — the fashion of the moment.
Backward as it might sound, people tend to love being around us, the self-diagnosed unloveables, the out-and-proud low self-esteem-ers. We relieve the expectations of love, divert the attention, turn our endless sorrows into the punch lines of an unwritten sitcom pilot. We become the half-time entertainment to our friends’ Superbowl relationships; the emotional pressure relief valve to their towering vat of youthful romance — designed to prevent upset, fire or equipment failure.
I guess we subconsciously replace our apathy with comedy, compromising our unmet desires as way of attaining purpose — of building ourselves a socially recognizable identity. We find solace in our projected character arc, accept our role as the supporting actor to another’s Hollywood rom-com; we become the Owen Wilson, the Rebel Wilson – the any old Wilson. Over time, we grow comfortable with our self-inflicted emotional restrictions and concurrent loneliness — so much so that it no longer hurts us in the way it should, in the way it once would.
The laws of expectation state that when you approach any situation or new relationship with the outright conviction of reaching a certain outcome, chances are this outcome will be fulfilled as you so envisioned, be it in a positive or negative way. When it comes to us unloveables, it’s fair to say that we’re hell-bent on delicious devastation. We’ve memorized our lines off by heart, nailed our actions down to a perfect T. We’ve read the script, we know how it goes. We understand all that’s expected of us.
The thing with life, however — much like any good romantic comedy — is that it can, at times, be unpredictable." — When You Think You’re One of the Unlovables, Samuel Leighton-Dore (via chandchakor)
PE is 5% exorcise and 95% embarrassment
what kind of gym class do you have that exorcises their kids
I laughed so fucking hard jesus