Like most energetic, young go-getters and the rest of these happy-go-lucky, 21st century, fleshy ambition machines… I too remain atrophied, calcified to my chair, stuck… basking for hours in the warm glow of our supreme leader: Netflix – A slave to the sofa, a mercenary to new media.

I do not question this powerful aura. I only accept that if I shun any and all human interaction, I will be rewarded with more content.

Sometimes it makes me feel better, sometimes I find a weird masochistic solace when it actually makes me feel worse… And other times it just kind of acts like tingly bath bomb, sat deep beneath my nethers, fizzing me awake amidst the otherwise numbing anaesthetic that is life.

Recently, I watched the Netflix original series ‘Love‘ and despite its name; like dry toast on a beige plate, it’s actually not as generic and boring as the title would suggest. It’s actually really good. It did get me thinking about its namesake though…

I mean, love Is only really aptly named half the time… The other half of the time you spend just hating each other. So whilst our nerdy yet charming protagonist, Gus may find he’s initially excited by his lewd and cavalier counterpart Mickey…

If they actually loved each other and went out for, let’s say five years and lived together for… I don’t know, for arguments sake… Three of those years… Then I think Gus would probably have an issue with the way Mickey brushes her teeth in the morning. Maybe he’d take issue with the way, when she spits out the toothpaste, she hawks up phlegm from seemingly forgotten recesses of her womb at one hundred and sixty decibels, before slapping it down on the porcelain sink the way a grizzly bear might whisper.

Or maybe, maybe Gus would really fucking hate the way she leaves her messy clothes all over the floor, even though she forced him to spend the money he’d originally saved to go and buy this sweet as fuck KISS pinball machine to go and buy a wardrobe she’ll never use instead.

I could really… And I mean really fucking empathise with Gus when he would start getting mad at her for being at home all day, whilst he’s at work, for him to have to come home to clean up all the mess she’s made BECAUSE SHE CAN’T… BECAUSE YOU CAN’T DO FUCKING ANYTHING WHEN YOU’VE FALLEN ASLEEP WITH A FAG IN YOUR MOUTH WATCHING THE CHASE, ON KETAMINE.

But hey – I guess that’s just love.