No. You know what’s sad, M? This sorry excuse for poetry. A result of zero internal introspection or wit. This is the intellectual equivalent of standing in a room and pointing at objects. There’s a lamp. That’s a couch. Yea, no shit Sherlock. I give it a C-.
Also while we’re here, I need to address something else. What is up with my unexplainable need to give dudes positive reinforcement despite how crummy their responses are?? I don’t know why I do it. I can’t figure it out. It’s my knee-jerk reaction to provide some kind of platitude or positive reinforcement no matter what response I get. Why do I do it? Perhaps I’m trying to be polite. Or perhaps it’s my nature to keep things lighthearted.
Or, is it because my gender has been conditioned over generations to reward men for doing the most basic, bare minimum of what’s asked of them.
Now that’s sad.
Love in the Time of COVID 