Heaven and Here

Relationships, even friendships, between humans are very advanced in comparison. I’d rather see dudes like Brine Shrimp Guy given stepping stones to develop skills and then level up, than throw themselves with increasing frustration at human relationships they’re nowhere near equipped for and catastrophically failing.

Self-care, self-presentation, self-discipline, some variant of the empathy-sympathy-compassion spectrum, communication, responding to others’ needs, understanding of personal boundaries … there’s a lot of skill sets that underlie the ability to have any functional romantic success.

A person whose abilities are highly lacking in these regards would do better to work on them at the level they’re at, rather than the level they aspire to reach. And just as a five-year-old who wants to be a theoretical physicist when they grow up studies addition and subtraction before they get into calculus, just as an apprentice blacksmith learns how to make nails before they start making swords, a person who has not yet figured out how to care for even themselves properly ought to start out with interesting acquarium life instead of a significant other.

Nice life, cool flat, fun job. | A closer look at Villanelle’s Parisian apartment. 

“Last year I spent a lot of time and love creating a set build for @bbcamerica @killingeve - Villanelle’s parisian apartment. Getting into wallpaper, marble, tile combinations and panelling details. It was a pleasure.”

As I was paying, she kept giving me furtive looks, and then glancing at the door. Like, hella weird looks. She was finally like, “Do you wanna see something?” 

This is a very loaded question, at a vet’s office. I could be presented with a cute dog or a tapeworm on the backside of this question, idk.

“O …. kay?”

She reaches under the counter and pulls out an empty tissue box. Inside is a washcloth, and THE TINIEST GODDAMN KITTEN I’VE EVER SEEN. 

Brenda is great at her job but a brusque person in general, but as we were standing with this little mouse-sized fluffball between us, she was practically vibrating with excitement and affection. 

“He’s three days old,” she whispered, as if worried she’d wake him up. “Some of our clients found him alone in their yard, without any littermates, and the mom cat never came back.”

He had formula on his whiskers, and little pointy mouse-sized ears, and was wallowing on the washcloth like a little bean who had just eaten well for the first time in days. He looked so happy. Almost as happy as Brenda.

“My husband and I lost our last cat a few months ago. We’ve always wanted a black cat. We’re going to name him tonight.”

And my new favorite: