Rejection: Fiction

by Tony Tulathimutte

When he manages to ejaculate it falls out of him like a touchless soap dispenser. So he’s finally managed to sexually bore even himself.

fish selfies, selfies cropped to conceal baldness. Plus, the relationships are so brief they seldom overlap, meaning she’s not technically even poly, just hopscotching mile after mile of the dreariest dick imaginable; the ceaseless

After many years she will see the whole saga not as a tragedy but as the beginning of a horrific process of self-understanding, at the end of which she will accept that whether or not it has been her choice, to be and feel nothing will be all that has made life possible.

They never fight, only have levelheaded contretemps in normal speaking voices before arriving at respectfully clarified stances, concluding with one of them saying I definitely see your point though or Maybe I’m being obtuse or I think we basically agree, this is just the narcissism of small differences.

I was homeschooled, and yeah, I know homeschoolers have a reputation for being sheltered and dweeby, but I’ve made it a top priority over the years to study modern social behaviors, pop culture, and slang every bit as seriously as I studied Marcus Aurelius and JavaScript.

She said a few sort of negative things about this, so after I set her straight on the “No Bummers” policy in my house,

I said, Bars, that’s very tea, sis! That’s exactly what I am, I’m her main attachment figure, and I’m embracing it! Go awf, slay queen! (My teletherapist is Black.)

I said, Maybe if you enjoy cleaning so much, you could stack it as a reward only after you’re done with your tasks for the day? Or at the very least you could show the bathroom and kitchen some mad love too, blud!

I was starting to worry, like maybe she was secretly harboring some genetic predispositions toward being delulu, even though the cheek swab I took in her sleep didn’t turn anything up.

Tell me, after all the value I’ve created, and the best-in-class innovations I have successfully brought to market, and the inspiration I have offered by my example—if everything I did was so evil, how is it that up until now not a single person ever told me No?

It was a tactical error to extend the math metaphor, it made me look like an angry dweeb. This is one reason I’ve never been considered a credible witness to my own life.

It was always this way with the white libs, their anxieties of privilege manifesting as showy accommodation, or useless lipchewing over having caused offense, or aggressive confrontation on behalf of an absent third party, the only balm for which is unconditional admiration and approval.