Monday, October 26, 2009


There is a class of humans called "Romantics." These are people who see hearts around everything. They think the smallest gesture means true love. They believe in love at first sight, last sight, hindsight, whatever. Everything has to mean love! Why ever would it not?

Well come with me to a place called reality and I'll tell you why not.

Love is not hiding behind every leaf on the sidewalk. Sometimes people just don't like other people. Sometimes there are stupid boys and girls reserve the right to not like them. Sometimes it's the other way around.

Here is a perfect example of what I am saying...

Susie is in astrology class with Michael. Michael is very smart, and he loves to throw that into Susie's face. He is always saying snide remarks about Susie's low As and Bs. Susie cannot STAND Michael. He is rude, self-centered, and unkind. But he is cute. Susie goes to her best friend Sally and rants about Michael....

Here is what Susie says: "Ugh I just can't stand Michael!"
Here is what a Romanticist hears: "Ohhh my gosh I am so in love with Michael!"

Here is what Susie says: "He is so full of himself. I can hardly stand to be around him."
Here is what a Romanticist hears: "And his eyes have the most dazzling green flecks in them!"

Here is what Susie says: "I think I will vomit if he speaks again."
Here is what a Romanticist hears: "Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling!"

Susie's friend Sally automatically assumes that because Michael is cute, Susie is just complaining about him because she likes him.

Well that's dumb.

Why, praytell, would Susie like Michael? Because he doesn't quite look like the twin of an ape? Very good. Except for not.

Simple answer is that she doesn't. Michael is stupid and not worth her time. He's mean. And since when does being mean translate to "I like you"? There is an extreemly popular misconception that goes as follows: If someone is mean to you, they like you.

How about we have a standing ovation for the dumbest theory EVER. That is the biggest piece of crap I have ever heard. It's an excuse only available to kindergardeners and Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice.

So sorry, but I'm right.

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