Poisoned Ice Cream, Romantic Catastrophes, and the Mathematics of Dying Alone: How to Decide Who Deserves a Place in Your Miserable Little Heart — An Essay on Relationships

Like 10 minutes ago, I was having this conversation with my beloved Belgium. A big part of our relationship consists of me philosophizing at her, loudly, constantly. And the subject of the day was how to decide which people to keep in your life and which people to say goodbye to.

My point starts where Marie Kondo ends. This woman asks one of the most interesting questions I’ve ever heard, so interesting, in fact, that I never paid much attention to her series… “Does this spark joy?”

If yes, keep it. If not, shred it. It's one very simple, very effective algorithm, and part of my pending karma with the universe is that I’ve been using this rule with people, actual living people, for a long, long time.

So gather round and sit down, children. I’m gonna teach you all how to die alone.

I’ll put a little McDonald’s bucket I got for my beloved for Halloween on this table right here, and you’ll put all your love in it. Ready? I might even give it back.

But let’s step back from our love, our friendships, and all our positive emotions, and think about our relationships, the people in our lives, in a cynical, clinical manner.

Everyone ready?

So, for this next section, your answers can’t be based on feelings or obvious facts. No “Because I love them,” “They are my friends,” “She’s my only sister,” or “We’ve known each other for 20 years.” Yes, and…?

We all have people in our lives. Me? Yes, even me. Very few, and I’m always happy to find a reason to prune another Homo sapiens from my tree.

Think about the people in your life. Think about them… deeply. And think about what they mean to you, detaching yourself from any feelings you have for them, and go to your special place. No, not that special place. You’re supposed to be sitting in my living room for this one. Keep your hands to yourself and out of your pants. Damn it.

Here it is. Love is a wonderful drug. Friendship is exhilarating and fun. But of all the people you know and probably love, which ones make your life objectively better? Which ones make you feel safe, or safer? Healthy, or healthier? Which ones actually create any degree of positive change in those directions?

When you look at someone you love, your brain floods you with hormones, and hormones do not make you smarter. Are we all in agreement? Stop eyeing the bucket! You’ll get your love back when it pleases me, and not before! Now keep reading! Get!

Now close your eyes and listen. Can you hear the mourners? That’s your funeral. All the people who knew you, loved you, learned from you, and taught you are sitting around you, ready to bury you and leave you to the maggots or charbroil you so you can have another level of personal stake in global warming.

All the people who took from you, lied to you, cheated on you, and used you are also sitting around. When they set your remains aflame, they should get a share of the flesh to eat, don’t you think? They’ve been eating you all along. The symbolism is pretty.

And this is it. Sit down and forget the damned bucket! You either get busy living or get busy dying, right? Well, you either have people in your life who make you bigger or you have people in your life who make you smaller, and the distinction is huge because, yes, I am a loner, but I’ve had more people in my life than most. More romantic partners than most. I’ve lived in lots of places, visited a lot more, and in all of those places, I’ve found people. And I’ve found just a few I’m willing to keep close. Of those, I’ve actually kept only a precious few close, and those I love endlessly.

“You can’t be a misanthrope” is one of the comments I hear most often about myself. “You’re so afraid to love” is another. And let me tell you, I definitely can, and I definitely am.

I have a hole in my chest where part of one of my vital organs used to be, and constant, excruciating pain. And I can tell you, dear reader, that nothing compares to the misery and pain that love has brought into my life. Why is that? The same reason I am a misanthrope:

I can love. Like, really, intensely, deeply, completely. And it changes me. It expands my consciousness in ways I don't always like and that leave me wide open to pain. I ended up giving up on people because my way of loving, my particular flavor of this poisoned, tasty ice cream, is… too much.

I can’t do anything with mediocrity. If we’re to be enemies, I’m gonna put my everything into making you suffer. A project together? I’m 900% in. And if I love you, damn it, I will really, really love you.

It’s a recipe for disaster, and I can hear the questions. And no, we’re not touching the bucket yet.

Where did I find people so virtuous that they’re worthy of my higher love—isn’t that a song? I have to play it for Belgium if it is. Am I surrounded by saints? It’s way more interesting.

People are messy. I am messy. I am conflicted about everything, or nearly everything, and I am not good at moderation. I am a zealot for immediate, intense, reckless action. And the people close to me? Well, they’re messy as well. They make mistakes, and so do I. But they don’t make me smaller. I’ve learned to live without expectations other than disappointment. Because we’re fallible, gullible, lying sacks full of blood and shit. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

So every person I love represents a conscious decision. I will deal with the bullshit of this particular ape because this particular ape makes my life better, funnier, more interesting. Gives me a reason to get out of bed, light the candles, whip some eggs, make some pancakes, and play some beautiful music every Friday morning instead of moping about my missing lung and chronic pain. Gives me a reason to take deep, often sad dives into my past and helps me understand not only what I did wrong, but what I did right.

“I know you’re a disaster. I see it. I see you. I’m a disaster too. I’m keeping you close, and we’re gonna help each other heal some wounds, drink some high-test alcohol, and make some bad decisions together. I have very little to offer, but I offer you a safe place in my heart. No ulterior motive, no hidden agenda, no angle. I’m on your side, and I ask you, candidly, to be on mine.”

Writing “Relationships are complicated” feels like the understatement of the century, but that’s exactly the point. They will consume. They will take from you. They will be unequal, unbalanced, and probably dangerous. So you have to choose not only the feelings, but also the process, the road they will take you on.

I’m gonna start handing everyone’s love back. This is not a key party, so please only take yours. But before you let this feeling back into your heart, ask yourself: Does loving this person make me bigger or smaller? And them? And us? When you say the words “I love this person” in your mind, is the feeling a happy or a sad one? Pleasurable or painful?

Always remember that love is not enough. In a world filled with so much good and bad, love is the chocolate sauce that makes the sundae even tastier. But love alone can’t keep any relationship going. It requires a good, solid foundation and a lot of will.

There’s this song by Slipknot called “All Out Life.” They said it better and way louder:

We are gathered here today to get it right

Repeat after me

"I will not celebrate mediocrity

I will not worship empty shells

I will not listen to worthless noises

I will not subject myself to selected, predictable choices

My time, my attention

My quality should not be bought and sold

For convenience's sake, ever"

That’s all there is to it. Find some crazy, damaged, messed-up people, just like yourself. Get to know them, understand them, and then love them in a way that’s good for everyone. Staying close to other Homo sapiens will always be complicated and potentially… well, bad. So choose a few apes who will make the whole mess worth it. And if they no longer spark joy? Well, into the hole they go… There are 8 billion other apes.

Sounds exhausting? It is.