Message Me Afterwards

>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew…

>Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?

>Enough. I meant that I thought you knew that I dislike people like Ainsley, and more’s the point, I thought you knew why. In fact, I thought you found my reasoning on that score so bloody fascinating that you had decided not to squander much time with humans of that ilk, either. And then, for no bloody reason I can find—and I have looked, let me tell you—you fix me up with Ainsley. Have I overestimated you, or myself, or what?

>Ainsley is a perfectly nice, smart person who looks like the sort of person you generally find appealing. Note that I emphasized Ainsley’s character and intelligence before moving on, purely for the sake of rendering the subject with the sort of painstaking thoroughness I know you have come to expect, to the superficial, aesthetic trivia. So, I hope you do not intend to tell me that Ainsley is “just not your type,” because I am quite familiar with your type, and Ainsley is not just your type. Ainsley is your font.

>Then why is it that I found Ainsley to be rather illegible at first and then, just when it was too late, not worth reading?

>What gives you the cojones to write those things about Ainsley? I think Ainsley is witty and charming. I also think Ainsley is a bit younger, healthier and more attractive than you are, which is what my many years as your friend and sworn ally have taught me that you like. Happily, Ainsley is “into it,” as it were. You and Ainsley can sort all of that out. The point is, I think you are a cruel, unfeeling person and smug—I think you are smug and judgmental.

>I think we are getting somewhere. Ainsley regularly streams large volumes of real estate porn. Do you have any idea what that is?

>It must be much worse than it sounds, given your reaction, though I’m not sure. Is it a sort of, “The architect and the developer are talking over the blueprints, when things take a saucy turn” scenario?

>Right. You know Ainsley so well that the staple of Ainsley’s cultural diet is as alien to you as mopping floors. It’s a sort of reality show (there's an oxymoron for you) in which real estate moguls and their operatives busy themselves buying and selling lavish homes and occasionally sleeping together. It is a symptom of our cultural decadence. We have turned coveting the possessions of others into a spectacular diversion, a sort of amusing ritual. That’s the sort of thing Ainsley appears to be “into,” along with greying weirdos like me. We talked about it. At length. On a first date. Do you have any idea who I am, or who Ainsley is?

>Oh, come on! Some nonsense might trickle in here and there! It’s not as if you don’t have strange tastes and peculiar habits. We gossip about Ainsley’s, and Ainsley’s friends gossip about yours. That’s one of the real benefits of getting to know someone well. You excavate treasure of increasing value. I can’t wait.

>But the crass materialism is revolting! Do you know that Ainsley is also an avid fan of various, professional sports teams? Have you any idea how tedious I find all of that: gargantuan brutes trying to best each other at games designed for children, earning incomes larger than the GDP of some countries in the process?!? More decadence and corruption, for which a fabulous fundament cannot compensate.

>Holier than thou art thou, amigo. Vast swathes of the population revel in all of the above. Why should Ainsley be any different? For that matter, why should we?

>Because if we do not resist, what is typical becomes what is good in our collective consciousness. That is comfortable and safe, but so were the caves where our knuckle-dragging ancestors fought over bits of a gazelle carcass. Can we not aspire to anything loftier?

>Look, I get it. Your first date with Ainsley was a bust. Is there any reason not to give it another shot?

>Oh, I think that’s inevitable, despite how awful it is to contemplate. You see, after the interminable prattling about the price of a condominium in Miami and the number of baskets some steroid saturated sasquatch scored in a recent game; after the mediocre salad and the rather succulent filet mignon, Ainsley did say something that makes me want to keep our conversation alive.

>No! What was the sapphire that emerged from the verbal mud?

>Ainsley said that there is something absurd and arid about life without love.

>There you have it! I told you there was real potential here. Just the words "absurd" and "arid" must have started your engine. Don't you have a t-shirt with that slogan? Shouldn't you give it another try?

>Bitter experience gives me no choice. I want to understand, and to be understood. I think Ainsley is as good a candidate to share both experiences with me as anyone else. I just have to find a way to curate the algorithm of that streaming account. More documentaries about the rise of fascism or the tortured genius of some artist; fewer festivals of greed and envy. I am sure there’s a way.

>That’s not creepy or patronizing at all. I’ll help!