pseudo-intimacy will kill your brain

(and your soul and your little wallet, too)

Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m admitting to any of this on record or anything, but let’s just say I found myself last night, in the dark, doing a deep dive on someone, not even on purpose. And let’s just say she was telling me (read all 517k of us who watched live at 12.06 am) all about the man who catfished her out of 25k because she was lonely (he caught her at a vulnerable time in her life). Or let’s just say the subject is a man, and he’s talking about how he married someone and now that someone is having a very sneaky but obvious affair, and he’s pausing to snivel between sentences. He does not know what prompted him to call in live, on this day at this hour, but he’s on his last legs, he tells us. The host of the podcast is giving him gentle but affirming ‘man’ advice. Let’s just say I feel like I’m right there, listening, virtually comforting him, even. Meanwhile, my dishes are still in the sink, and there's the small problem of a writing deadline and lots of unanswered texts from my friends. When the videos end, I realise how strange it all is; how we spend so much time bidding for a flat kind of intimacy, because the need is always there. Isn’t it? But it ain’t real, right? There’s nothing at stake; I don’t even have to get out of bed to fake comfort a stranger on the other side of the world. All that I did was stare at my screen. Perhaps I even shed a tear along with caller B, because I was just, like, so moved. But reader, what’s it all for? There is no inconvenience, which, let’s face it, is part of what makes a real relationship.