Why Haven’t ‘You & I’ had Sex? — Vol. 3 of 3 [Letters to a Doosh]

27^th May ’22 — Sitting in a café where everyone is talking & laughing with their phones, not with each other. I’m intensely attracted to a deliciously chunky kid in a pram — I’m waiting for the kid to nap so I can kid-nap this bulky betch. As I wait eagerly for this meaty munchkin to doze-off, I write this letter to you about Birth, Love, Lust, Death.

Hey, Doosh

“We all were once a baby. We all will soon be a corpse.”

Isn’t this slice of Truth so fucking poetic?

Four Facts

1. Birth is fluke.

Most of us — surely You & I — were born because our mom-&-pop couldn’t care to slip on a latex balloon that insures against the undesirable outcome of sex — birth of morons. Knowing that You & I are mistakes is infinitely liberating — it lifts the skirt & drops the panties off the parents who tell us we were born out of love & our birth is God’s miracle.

Had I got a shilling for every lie ‘baby humans’ are told till they strike puberty [or puberty strikes them], I’d have bought three Pakistans & torched all three to ashes. Why? I really don’t know, but it  does sound like a fun activity to juice up a rather dull Tuesday afternoon :)

As birth is a fluke & there’s no intrinsic purpose to our arrival, existence, or departure, we can untie ourselves from the shackles of how we ought to live our lives. We are the artist & the universe is our infinite canvas — all the stories we paint in our little journey must be untethered like birds. And the love we create must taste like blood — so once we’re gone, a part of us stays alive in someone’s heart.

2. Love is rare.

Why aren’t humans falling in love anymore? Why has true love become rarer than Koalas graduating from Harvard?

StatAttack: In 2021, two humans fell in love [unverified] — three koalas graduated magna cum laude from Harvard [verified by NatGeo]

Everyone loves to be loved. Everyone loves being someone’s no.1 — No motherfucker wants to be no. 2. But we gotta start earning & stop expecting to be someone’s no. 1

Love is magnetic & tough like heavyweight boxing. Most humans are allured by its charm — they walk into the ring, but one punch knocks them out cold to the floor. The first adversity, the first dry leaf of autumn, the first rough weather, the first drops of blood in their journey of love smacks the living daylights out of the modern humans. It makes them pick up the metaphorical ink-pen & sign the ‘I quit’ break-up papers — makes them start writing ‘Oh! What was I thinking saying I love you to that skank/scumbag?’ — poems/songs — makes them start looking for ‘Who else is out there to get naked with?’ on the Tindernet.

The minimum size of balls required to even have the tiniest chance of falling in love is already too big than what humans can muster. No one ever falls in love with cotton-candy hearts — No one falls in love who’s too scared to be kicked in the balls.

I often wonder if the lack of love will kill us all way before that cunty climate change will.

Every day I endeavor to do something that’s driven by love. I wouldn’t be writing this letter if I didn’t feel love for you. And there’s something so beautiful about that feeling that even I, who’s been writing for 16 years, can’t paint in words. 

P.S. I don’t know if you will fall in romantic love, Ria. I hope you do.

3.  Lust is Dust.

If love is tough like heavyweight boxing, lust is a lot like dust — it’s everywhere. 

There’s nothing more seductively enticing for an older bloke than to ‘break bed’ with an attractive young girl with made-for-motorboat knockers — a category you fit into perfectly at 23.

Where is the Lust? Why aren’t we breaking bed?

When I look at you, it’s evident to me that you’re, currently, the top produce in the human meat market. Everyone likes you as you’re pretty, highly bangable, & making solid dough professionally. That’s a rare combination & it makes you irresistible. Boys would queue up overnight to bonk you or make you their girlfriend.

I also like you a lot. But I like you for everything I feel about you than what I see visually. I’m incapable of seeing you as a human product of high quality. When we sit down, I feel raw love for you. And it scares me to death because when we love people, they always leave us — either by death or choice. Even after a lot of humans I’ve loved have disappeared from my life, & I’m darn used to losing humans, it still hurts immense.

I don’t know if we will break bed or not. And I know you’ll also leave — in time. But I hope till I see you, I always feel that indescribable love for you. 

4.  Death is seductive.

"Nothing is Permanent, but Death."

The certainty of the eventual arrival of Death gives true perspective to everything in our inconsequential lives. 

The certainty makes death less scary — more inspirational. And really seductive.

P.S. Whenever one of us — You or I — departs Earth, I hope the one who’s still alive is at the funeral with their eyes flooded, faces drenched & heart shivering like an earthquake. And after burying/burning the dead, they go out — get smashed drunk & end up marrying an underaged non-binary prostitute. If nothing else, it will surely be one hell of a story to tell.

And what’s life without memories & stories.

———

Alright, I gotta wrap this letter now. The kid in the pram has finally dozed off. Time to steal & sell her to the Saudis for a quick million dinars. 

Happy Birthday, Ria. I hope you get laid with a boy with a tiny peenus ;)

P.S. Even if you turn out to be cunt, I will always love you — but you better never take what we have for granted or I will chop your hair, steal your ovaries & sell you to a toothless pimp in Myanmar.

—I will write to you when my heart telegrams me to tell you a new story—

Till then, don’t die.