As Dane

dane-cook

You ever leave a really good comment on someone’s post and they just ignore it? I mean like they will leapfrog over your shit and reply to some other shit that’s nowhere near as good as your shit. Like their post will be…

‘A man should have no say in what happens to a woman’s body.’

And you’ll say something like…

‘Yes, you are one-hundred percent correct. Men need to stay out of women’s vaginas…unless they’re having consensual sex with their vaginas.’

And you’ll feel really good after you leave it. Really confident. You’ll even close your laptop. Cross your arms thinking, ‘There’s no more that needs to be said.’ Like you just know you’re gonna get a ‘like’ and an approving follow-up. That’s why you don’t even bother checking right away. You leave the house, go run some errands. Tell strangers you meet about the profound comment you left.

Then you come back home, open your laptop, zero ‘likes’ and zero responses from them, just more leapfrogging. Now you’re confused. Scratching your head. You read some of the comments they liked and that just pisses you off. ‘My shit was way better than that shit.’ Now you’re desperate. You go through all the comments and ‘remix’ the ones they liked into a new comment…still nothing. You go to sleep, wake up…still nothing.

‘FFFFFFFUUCCCCK!!!’

Now you’re distraught. Start pacing the room, eyes locked on the screen…

“What the fuck is it about ME?! Why does she hate ME?! I don’t even fucking know her. Was it that picture I posted of me running errands?”

I run a lot of errands. Sue me, I like getting shit done.

You just get so confused. This is why what I do now is switch-it-up. Pull a little switcheroo on ’em. I change my picture, my name; create a fictitious persona that I know they’ll like. If it’s a chick who’s into bikers I’ll run a Google image search for a guy with a shitload of tattoos, he’ll become my profile pic, I’ll even change my cover photo to some sick Harley and the pièce de résistance: I change my name, to something cool like Ricky Blades. Then I leave my comment; and of course she fucking loves it. An essay’s worth of approving emojis follow. We get into this long conversation. All the other commenters just fade away. They can’t touch what we got man…

Now here’s the important part: Right at the moment when I know she’s really into it, when she’s really falling in love with my Ricky Badass Blades fabrication; right at that moment I pull another switcheroo and change my name and pic back; and I leave one last comment: ‘HA! Gotcha! You were just having a good time with someone you superficially hate.’

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