I am a better romantic prospect than Charles Manson

Charles Manson is getting married and I’m still single and this is irritating.  So here is a picture with a few of the reasons why I am better suited to marriage than Charles Manson.

not charles manson

I am far from perfect.  I’m flawed.  I’m kind of romantically stunted.  I’m messy.  I don’t really care for wearing makeup (why do people care so much about their eyelashes and eyelids???  They’re just dust covers for your eyeballs), and fashion, while I get it in theory, is one thing I’m never going to put effort into. I’m maybe overly fond of candy.  I can be insensitive, though I try hard not to be.  There are many people who are better than me, both in looks, and in talent.  But I am definitely better than Charles Manson.

Me > Charles Manson

Other people > me > Charles Manson

Say if we’re all cakes.  The first one is an other people cake.  The second one is a me cake.  The third is a Charles Manson cake.


What if we’re all flowers?  The first one is an other person flower.  The second is a me flower.  Not as romantic as a rose, but still pretty good.  The third is a Charles Manson flower.  Yuck!


Look, I’m not saying I’m a saint.  I’ve done some things I regret.  But I have never murdered people or advocated murdering people, a fact in which I take great pride.  I don’t have racist conspiracy theories.  If I ever got a forehead tattoo, it would be a manifesto about how much I value other people and that I love them.  I have a big forehead.  It would fit.

Seriously, guys.  This is preposterous!  I have never even stabbed anyone!  Zero people stabbed!  Even if I stabbed two or three people, I’d still have a better track record than Charles Manson.  I could even murder a handful of people, and I’d still be in better standing!

I just don’t understand.  I can’t look into love the way that Neo looks into the Matrix and understand its mechanics.  I can’t read love the way that I read books, or touch love the way I touch my keyboard when I type, creating it from bits and pieces, fragments of concepts and ideas.  But I can say, truly, that I’m no longer in the mood for such malarkey.  If Charles Manson can find love and I can’t, then love is more incomprehensible than I thought, and probably nonsense.