WHAT IS THE COUCH FOR?

Love used to be simple. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy.
Now we have terms like ghosting! That’s a romantic term now.
“I thought we had something special…”
No, turns out you had something “invisible.”
Back in the day, if someone didn’t like you, at least they had the decency to marry you anyway and ignore you in person.

And what is up with everybody looking for “the one.”
Like there’s a cosmic vending machine somewhere.
There is no “one.”
There’s a bunch of “pretty goods” though,
and a few “what the hell was I thinking?”
But there is no “one.”

And the advice. For Christ’s sake, the advice.

“Just be yourself.”

That’s terrible advice! Being yourself is the reason you are single!
What if yourself chews loudly and believes the Earth is shaped like a tortilla?

No, don’t be yourself.
Be a slightly improved, socially acceptable version of yourself.
That’s what love really is, two people pretending just long enough to sign paperwork. Like a training period at the start of a new job.

And then comes marriage!
Oh, marriage is where love goes to put on sweatpants.

People say: “Marriage is hard work.”
But so is digging a ditch, doesn’t mean I want to do it forever.

You stand up there in front of everyone: “I promise to love you forever.”
Forever?! You don’t even keep your phone for two years!

And then we got anniversaries.
“Happy anniversary, honey! We’ve survived another year!”
That’s the word they use. Not “celebrated,” not “enjoyed,” but survived.
Like it’s some kind of emotional obstacle course.
Next round comes with kids, an extended mortgage, and the uncertainty of a world war and inflation. Let’s see how we survive that!

But here’s my favorite part: unconditional love.
People love to say that: “I love you unconditionally.”
No, you don’t.
There are conditions. There are always conditions.
“Don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t disappear, don’t join a cult …”
That’s a lot of conditions for something that’s supposed to be unconditional.

And yet, people keep chasing love. Because every once in a while, you meet someone. And they laugh at your stupid jokes. They understand your weird habits. They don’t mind that you eat cereal at midnight like a raccoon with self-esteem issues. And that is it. No apps, no rules, no language tricks. Just two confused people agreeing to be confused together.

That’s love. Not perfect. Not magical. Not eternal. Just a temporary alliance between two flawed creatures trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t come with instructions.

And somehow, that’s enough. Most days.
The rest of the time?
Well… that’s what the couch is for.