Everything's Trash, But It's Okay

by Phoebe Robinson

I wasn’t even expecting or asking for the full word at that point. That’s how low my standards are in this disappointing and commitment-averse dating world. I’m aware that a stranger sending another stranger “congratulations” is akin to Tom Cruise telling Renée Zellweger, “You complete me,” at the end of Jerry Maguire. It’s far too early for a moment of sincerity. But, dude, put in some effort and be a little bit more like fictional serial killer Patrick Bateman . . . which is something that I never, ever thought I would write. I, of course, don’t mean the criminal part of him, but rather the part where he played the long game. He wasn’t like, “Down to get fucked and chopped into tiny pieces?” No, he feigned interest like a gahtdamn gentleman for two point two seconds and engaged in what people were saying to him. Just pretend you’re happy for me so the conversation can continue.