robots in love
You know how much we love to pathologize people who don’t like us? Crazy, passive-aggressive, alcoholic, borderline personality disorder, manic-depressive, insecure, shallow, boring, awkward, narcissistic, insensitive, uninspiring, tortured, depressed, annoying, anal-retentive, cruel, emotionally unavailable, I could go on, intent on using ALL the words I learned in college, but maybe the truth is that we only liked each other on every third day, and the problem is that on the seventh day we did not rest.
Sometimes people aren’t in a bad mood, because they have PTSD or mommy issues or because they’re insecure about something that happened in third grade, sometimes they just don’t like you. I know, we all like a mystery and what we like even more than a mystery is a mysterious mental defect that explains everything someone does, preferably someone who seems like they don’t like us, but it’s possible we’re making this both more and less complex than it really is. Sometimes, it really is just early mornings, and coffee on your sweater, and fat jeans, and your ipod died again, and there’s a test coming up and you can’t study, because it’s so boring so you spend three hours thinking about studying and then you take a nap. These are the reasons why you rolled your eyes at me this morning when I asked how to enlarge an image on the copier. It is in fact that more uncommon person who will remain true to their diagnosis. Most people change their minds completely every 5 hours, and each time they’re telling the truth.
And I know I like people for the most inane reasons. Chloe doesn’t like to wear goggles when she snowboards, and she prefers the ocean to swimming pools. Brian read the poem I loved and smiled at the exact place where I would have smiled. These are the things that just slay me. Everything else is just milk on my sweater and a dead cellphone in my pocket.