Written by Dignan

Tuesday, 14 August 2007

image for Dear Mr. Beale - How to (not) Be Alone

Dear Mr. Beale,

My wife recently left me, and I've been very alone. All the self help books I've been reading tell me I was in a co-dependent relationship. They say I should learn how to be alone before I look for someone new, learn how to be a "whole person" without anyone else around. But when I'm by myself I just feel alone. How do I become a whole person?

Lonely in Texas,

Lone Star
Dallas, Texas

Dear Lone Star,

The self-help manuals have it exactly wrong. Being alone, to quote the great Arthur Bach, is simply horrible.

When others are not there to distract you, there is always the danger of having to face yourself.

Let me drop a very expensive pearl of wisdom that my mind coughed up while I was being water-boarded by a Russian mobster with biceps larger than Rosie O'Donnell's thighs: if there's one thing that you must avoid at all costs, it is you. If you ever comes calling, run like hell. Your inner self is not really something you should get in touch with, nurture, or savor alone-time with. You'd be better off facing Hulk Hogan in a cage match.

It's not that you is a bad motherfucker. You is much worse than that: you-your inner self-is like your mother, ex-step-mother, and ex-wife rolled into one, except with no redeeming secondary sexual characteristics. He-actually your inner self is a girl-she is a whiny little bitch who writes letters to advice columnists. She's the kind of inner self who buys self-help books about co-dependent relationships when she should be at home making dinner while you drink beer and watch porn. She's selfish, needy, and has the emotional range of a depressed circus elephant. Above all, she's fucking boring. She's got no sense of humor. If you hang out with her for very long she will drive you fucking insane. This is not to say you should get back together with your ex-wife; she's just like this as well.

Run, do not walk, from yo(h)urself. You should be more afraid than a hooded Rush Limbaugh being forced, on threat of electrocution and worse by the militant armed wing of GLAAD, to do a marathon impersonation of Michael J. Fox while balancing precariously on a can of spam. If running from yourself requires the kind of cocaine habit that would embarrass the bastard mutant offspring of Robin Williams and Kate Moss, then do it.

Destroy yourself before you run into yourself. Otherwise, they only way to save yourself is to do what everyone else does-find someone who isn't so nauseatingly tiresome and latch on to them. Oh yes, deep down their inner self is just like yours and they'll become unbearable. But that takes time. They have to close the distance.

You can keep running.

Yours in contempt,

Mr. Beale
P.S.: When you need a break from running, please see the enclosed bottle of lotion-for rubbing on your pussy.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Topics: Books, reading, Wife
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