This garish lilac set is violating my retinas. This stool isn’t particularly comfortable either. God, this is the last time I agree to anything whilst drunk.
“So, Sean, tell us a bit about yourself.”
What do I say? Am I supposed to tell the truth here? I suppose it couldn’t hurt, I mean, these women are presumably already locked into some legally binding contract. I’m guaranteed a date with whoever I choose. So it makes no difference what I say. I don’t even need to sound attractive. Alright. Blunt truth it is.
“Well, Cilla, I’m a 20 year old university student with mediocre facial hair, but aspirations of growing a majestic beard someday. I’m about 5’10”. I have hazel eyes and dark brown hair of varying length. I like metal music, video games and my favourite film is The Departed. I have a few tattoos and play bass guitar. That’s about it.”
“Oh. He sounds hot doesn’t he, audience?!”
Silence. Deathly fucking silence. Nobody is clapping. Nobody. Just the distant rustling of crisp packets. This is pretty embarrassing. Oh. HAHA. Well done, Ironic Wolf Whistle Guy. Prick.
“Alright, Sean. We’re going to bring out three lovely ladies and sit them behind that screen so you can’t see them. We’ll tell you a bit about each of them, then you pick your favourite! Okay, let’s meet the first of the girls you might be going home with tonight.”
Despite a world in which anything is possible, sometimes I get bored with it all. Sometimes Mythbusters isn’t on the Discovery Channel. Sometimes Top Gear isn’t on Dave. Sometimes over 200 channels of globally available cable television isn’t enough.
It is in these moments that we must turn to the more macabre methods of self-amusement. It is then that we must undertake a solitary hobby. A hobby that requires the participation of two, but only the application and awareness of one.
Facebook, first you insult my levels of social aptitude by implying I’m lonely, and now you’re offering me ultimatums?!? Well guess what, I don’t play by the rules. I don’t even know the rules. I don’t even know what game we’re playing.
Facebook has formed a barrier between me and internet freedom. Standing betwixt me and every climax, preventing my perusal of every punch line, restraining my attempted ascent to the summit of every internet witticism, is the same thing.
Facebook is holding content ransom. The price? A like.