I have always surrounded myself with crass gays who have been through too much shit to be offended easily.I have always surrounded myself with open-minded liberals who understood the cultural value in artfully executed "offensive" joke.I thought to myself, drunk and delusional from all the after-sex oxytocin (the feel-good hormone released in our brain after sex) swishing through my bones.And our thoughts must have been in sync because the next thing I knew, we were in this "relationship" thing.In short, if it's wildly offensive, intelligent, controversial or pokes fun at what's deemed taboo, I'm into it. I fucking hate puns and think they're the lowest form of comedy. And one night, after really, really great sex, we went for a post-sex walk in the neighborhood and got really deep about life and the past and our slew of childhood struggles and all of our self-diagnosed disorders and blah, blah, blah.She fucking hated "Seinfeld" and found it so irritating that I was forbidden to play my beloved show in her presence. You know, the typical vulnerable "pillow talk" drill. Where 90 percent of relationships that weren't meant to be are formed.Don't be fooled by the all-star cast and sweet title. On the contrary, if you fiercely love sick jokes and you laugh so hard that wine spritzer flies out of your nostrils when watching dark comedic scenes about uncomfortable topics, watch it and message me because we should be best friends. I've had many dramatic bar fights that result in me defending the validity of "Seinfeld" with slurred speech.
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And if she thought I was great, maybe I could start believing I was great.
See, whenever you blame someone else for your problems, you're usually the problem, right? When I was surrounded by people who weren't constantly offended by what I had to say and people whom I didn't need to always explain myself to, I felt free again.
I took an hour and a half to primp before going out (I was a vain bitch back then and I still am, but I got faster at primping); she took 10 minutes tops. If I made a joke about a traumatic experience from the past, she would get all riled up."It's NOT funny, Zara," she would shout, gripping the steering wheel so hard that I'm surprised it didn't break in half. As someone who has suffered from an eating disorder most of my life, I found it funny and pretty cathartic to joke about it on my own terms. I was constantly being told my humor was too much and too crass, and since my humor is a massive part of my personality, I think she really meant I was too much and too crass.
But our key difference hung heavy in the air, stinking up her studio apartment like an old lady sucking back a mentholated cigarette. I told her I thought her humor was annoying and basic and low brow.