So there’s a guy. Or maybe he is a she. And not in that way, just the traditional non-surgical way but your situation is different. Hell, maybe your she was a he. In any case, you have relationship issues. So you come onto the Internet to impart them and seek advice (as you do). All is well and merry until:
What’s with this solidarity shit? You’re not on Oprah, okay? Not going for ratings here, people. There is no need to get all teary and slap each other on the back when some whiny bitch crawls out of the earth and sobs “Boo hoo for relationships. Wah zee dah, I am alone and unloved.” I’ve got some Hemingway style prose for you: “She died alone, in the mud. With broken legs”. Yeah, do you feel happy now? No? You shouldn’t. Just like these misguided lame-oes who come along and see “SINGLE AND HATING MY SHITTY LIFE” paraphrased all saccharine and say “Hey girl, you stay strong sistah we doin’ it for ourselves and it doesn’t matter you’re neurotic and probably contributed to the breakdown of the relationship TWICE as much as that other guy, we’ll call him the schmuck. Let’s rally around YOU because you had the gall to complain about it on the 'net. HURRAH” shouldn’t do that. In case that 159 word sentence didn’t clue you in, I’m back to non-Hemingway prose now, and much the worse for wear.
Now, as a vandalising anti-social punk I’m not too high on life and a 'sense of community", but I can see the need for one. But this crosses the line of community love-ins, it’s like Nazi sympathising but for the emotionally stunted. “OMG DUMP THAT ZERO AND GET YOURSELF A HERO, YOU DESERVE ONE O BEAUTIFUL SNOWFLAKE LOOKING THING”
MY BIG FAT GREEK DISCLAIMER:
Nobody should take this personal. Like that one gay bus driver, it sucks when people take one of my inflammatory messages and act like I pissed on their mother’s grave. So any people thinking “Hey, he means me”, yeah I do. But it’s not JUST you, so don’t go feeling all warm inside and then develop a stalker complex for me, you crazy slut. OMG HE WAITED FIVE WEEKS AND THEN CALLED AND I COULDN’T GET HIM OUT OF MY MIND I’M SO CONFUSED MY CUNT SAYS YES BUT MY PEANUT BRAIN SAYS NO.
Optional: failing a rational discussion about the similarity between the good old boy system and the SDMB community (i.e. you’re one of us (member/rich plantation owner), so in any “incident” we will jeer and place blame on the non-SDMB party (ex-boyfriend/them uppity niggers) we can all just laugh at how life is really stupid.
Post Script: I’m not directly comparing any SDMB member with a 19th Century slaveowner. Except Manhattan. Think about it: never exiting his airconditioned ranch where he sips on an iced lemonade except to hand out the whipping of some guy until his welts have welts. Yeah. See if you can sleep easy knowing that.
Posty McPostscript: I have nothing against Charles Q. “Doc” Manhattan.
NEWS JUST IN: Nobody gives a FLYING FUCK AT A DOUGHNUT APPROACHING THE EVENT HORIZON that if you weren’t married to five Mormon sex slave women and the other poster wasn’t a grandmother of twenty-eight alien pod creatures then you’d run off and elope, get hitched in Vegas on the way to the border or just have a general depraved orgy. Seriously. SHUT UP.