I Couldn’t Be More Wrong

I’ve been doing things for as long as I can remember. In fact, I dare say I’m always doing something, even if it’s just sitting still. But what I’ve come to find out is that, no matter what I’m doing, I’m doing it wrong.

Everything. All of it.

This was brought to my attention by a number of YouTubers, whose counsel I was lucky to find, given my complete failure as a human being.

It started with a tech video. I watch a lot of them and had considered myself well-informed on consumer electronics, so I was surprised when a video called “You’re Using Your Phone Wrong” popped up in my feed.

It’s not like I’m cracking walnuts with it, so I didn’t understand how this could be. I was too shaken to watch it right away, but I soon saw that I was in more trouble than I thought.

Here I am, enjoying all of these gadgets, and the whole time I’ve been an uninformed dope. If this is the case with a subject in which I’m really interested, I wondered what I could be doing wrong in other areas of my life. The answers came so fast that I couldn’t keep up.

This was mortifying. I realized that I have a lot of blind spots and that I should probably seek out the wisdom of these streaming experts as much as I could.

I decided that my best course of action would be to go through my day and check in with YouTube in real time to get more details about my shortcomings.

Like most people, my first stop after waking up is the bathroom. I was confident that I’d long ago mastered the typical things one does in there, so I figured this would be a gimme.

Okay, that was jarring. But I’m here to learn.

After the bathroom, I throw something on and take Brady for a walk, stopping for coffee on the way back. I was sure these YouTube lifestyle gurus couldn’t offer any improvements for this part of my routine.

This is where I really began to question myself. I’ll take whatever pointers they have, but I can’t imagine how ridiculous I must look out there.

I always point my feet in the right direction—I’m pretty sure of that. And I do move them one at a time. But there’s apparently a lot more to it that I’ll have to go back and investigate.

As for the coffee, five ways? What other means of ingesting it am I missing? Enema? IV? Transfusion?

Once we return home, I get myself cleaned up and ready for the day. Here, again, I’m a complete disaster.

Why has no one told me how disgusting I am to be around? I’m touched that my family and friends want to protect my feelings, but I wish I hadn’t found out from some strangers on YouTube. But at least they have the courage to speak uncomfortable truths, so thank God for them.

My next item on the agenda is to figure out what I’m going to wear. My body is always appropriately covered, and I’ve never been kicked out of a restaurant for violating its dress code, so I had a moment of optimism that I’d be spared more humiliation.

How naïve I was.

When I walk from my bedroom—clad in some clumsy jumble of clothing—to my office, I thought I had everything under control as far as work is concerned.

I feel like a fraud. It’s confusing because not one boss, colleague, or client has ever complained. Do they take pity on me? Are they laughing at me behind my back? Is my abhorrent sitting contributing to my poor job performance?

For those times when I have to run an errand, I thought I’d better look into what my areas of opportunity might be there.

Jesus Christ.

How do I even still have a license? I’m Ubering until I get a chance to watch these, because I’ve been putting lives in danger, and that’s not cool.

Back inside, where I can’t hurt anyone, working from home also lets me get things done around the house when I have a few minutes of free time. It’s a luxury I’m grateful for.

What is the matter with me? Why am I like this? How am I content living in filth and disorder? I’m so disgusted with myself.

This next part is important. I spend a lot time writing. Everyone knows that writing isn’t something you ever truly master, but I’ve been doing it for a long time and thought I was decent at it. I always want to improve, but I never dreamed I’d be told this:

This broke me. I don’t know what to say and evidently wouldn’t know how to say it even if I did.

There’s not much left to analyze. After a long day of making mistakes, I like to wind down by reading or watching something. You’d think not much could go wrong there, right?

I’m not handling this well. Or, as one of my virtual life coaches might say, I’m taking it wrong.

With the day over, I thought that was it, that I’d run out of things to fail at.

Oh, fuck me.

I apologize if none of this was coherent, as not only am I writing wrong, but it looks like I have a bigger problem.

While my sense of self has taken a severe beating, I’m thankful there are so many wise YouTubers to set me straight. I’m going to watch all of their videos so they can give me the tough love that I need.

Speaking of which, if there’s one positive in all of this, it’s that love is something I can’t get wrong.

I need to go weep now.