I’ve always disliked writing love articles. Or writing about
it publicly for that matter. Those people with their love songs… I can
understand why they do it. I can appreciate why they do it. But I can never do
it myself. To me, love is something that I can only express privately, and
never superficially – spending more money on an extravagant gift is no
indication of my degree of romantic interest in you. Money and love are two
separate things – one should not perpetuate the other. What I will give,
however, is something much more valuable than money. My time.
A human life is futile. We’re born, we live for a brief
cosmic instant, and we die. I can set a countdown for how many seconds I have
left to live on my laptop. If I choose to spend a significant fraction of those
seconds on you, then I hope you realize that I’m paying you with a currency
that is more valuable than anything else I can offer.
Or at least that’s what I hope you’ll understand. If you
want that diamond, you’re out of luck – I just bought myself the collector’s
box set of Breaking Bad on Amazon.
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