I want to walk up to every happy couple and tell them, "You know this isn't going to work out, right?" Maybe it sounds cynical, maybe it sounds assholish, maybe I'm just a cynical asshole. But seriously, how many couples who are happy together stay that way? (Either happy, or together, or both?) I'd estimate around 1%, and those are the ones who are 85 years old and close to dying, and just happy to have someone there for them.
It never works out. It never ever ever works out. No matter how much you like them, no matter how horny you can make them, no matter how often you have sex, no matter how much effort you put into it, no matter how hard you try to say and do the right things, no matter how witty and urbane and sweet and charming and attentive and fun you try to be---it's useless. In the end, we're all alone. The more I try to fight that sad fact of life, the more it fucks me in the ass.
I'll leave you with a quote that a friend emailed me yesterday in a game effort to lift my spirits. It didn't work, but I don't think anything will at this point. Anyway, it sounds nice.
"It’s my belief that history is a wheel; inconstancy
is my very essence says the wheel. Rise up on my
spokes if you like but don’t complain when your cast
back down into the depths. Good times pass away but
then so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but
it’s also our hope. The worst of times like the best
are always passing away."
--Boethius, author of the Consolation of Philosophy
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