#and my man is resourceful he drove her crazy with desire

[pergaminaa]

I totally was one of those people who thought nothing of Dorian honestly he was just the local cute boy and I didn’t care much for him.

Until Empire of Storms and how my man was completely transformed because of a certain witch like the real man hiding popped up out of nowhere because my girl Manon really made him work for it and he met every challenge and then some

[septembersghost]

I LOVED Bates Motel and you're making me want to revisit it too! you're probably the only person I've followed who talks about it and understood it lol the fandom was a mess and filled with the dumbest ship wars. it's nice to see someone not boiling them down, there was such a split back then it was like you could only choose sides between Romero and Norman. it drove me crazy but the show was so good.

oh, i know, i've seen some of it when i've gone digging for old posts (the vitriol some people aimed at each other was unreal), ship wars are never ever my thing and a real detriment sometimes when it causes that level of distraction and lashing out at one another? and ultimately, it's missing the entire point.

it's like people arguing over "norma is an innocent victim destroyed by her controlling, abusive son" vs. "norman is an innocent victim destroyed by his controlling, abusive mother" when neither thing is remotely true and the narrative works to dismantle those ideas.

norma and norman being bound together and part of one another's souls, with all their love for one another and their completely irreparable dysfunction, is an inherent element to the story. it literally can't be told without it. she has to keep him too close out of protection and fear. he has to struggle with possessiveness and clinging to her. it's who they are, having lived with the traumatic difficulties they lived with, turning only to each other, only trusting each other against the world. it has to be cataclysmic. that's the story.

at the same time, alex serves an entirely new and different purpose. norma is consistently harmed and mistreated by men, coveted and scorned by men. he has this unusual place in her life where, for a long time, he's both partial foil and reluctant protector. the fact that blossoms into something real for both of them is a testament to their individual strengths and hearts, and the connection they form. a really interesting aspect of this to me is that alex is as flawed as they are. he kills multiple people in cold blood, more than once partially driven out of a desire to shield norma. he does this with complete clarity and with the misused authority of a badge. the men he murders are all unquestionably reprehensible, but does that condone his actions? this stands in direct contrast to norman, who commits several murders completely unaware that he's doing this, in a dissociative state and without full capacity (until the shower scene), and he kills innocent people. the narrative lets the friction between those two things stand with one another. it allows that to not have judgment, to remain ambiguous though no less horrifying, to show it to us and let us ask what exactly defines their darknesses, how those sins are weighed, how ultimately moralizing about it doesn't accomplish anything. i just find it fascinating that they are like mirrors to one another. both of them love norma tremendously. both of them also try to dictate her choices, and she doesn't capitulate to either (norman's final act notwithstanding, as it is entirely out of her hands).

the narrative itself calls out this limited thinking, in the dinner scene in 4x08. norma says: "norman, there's room in the human heart for more than one person. it doesn't diminish the love that's already there."

and she's right! it's a powerful statement. this is, in fact, one of my most steadfast philosophies. love is not a finite resource. one kind of love can never diminish or take away another vital love that's already there! she's found unexpected love with this man (and i adore a very broken, warped white knight complex, which he definitely has), after a lifetime of hurt and suffering, of course that's something she's going to gravitate towards, of course it's heady and astonishing to her. she loves him enough to feel obligated to tell him the truth! they're both such damaged people and they let one another in. it provides true growth and value and tender romance and comfort for her - and there is not a second of her love for romero that changes the steadfastness and fathomless depth of her love for norman.

the other piece of this discussion comes from norman: "you are such a hypocrite, mother. my whole life, you have kept me so close to you that i couldn't breathe without you. you never wanted me to have a girlfriend or even a good time. i-i gave up everything. everything for you, mother. and i did it gladly, because i understand the bond between us. the cord. i understand that it is huge and sacred and unique." the rest of what he says isn't reasonable, though it's perfectly foreshadowing ("this is our world. our world, mother! and that's what love is. real love. not this pale corpse you're trying to put in its place, and you never will be able to."), but he's not wrong to call her a hypocrite. she is. what she says to him about there being room in the human heart is right, and it's healthy, but he's also right in saying she kept him cut off from outside interactions and judged his relationships and taught him to prioritize their bond before everything. she didn't mean it to cause the amount of damage that it does, she had her reasons (most all of them understandable) for responding that way in their lives, but it wasn't fair to him. they're both correct in that argument, and also both woefully wrong.

the dynamic she has with norman and the dynamic she has with alex are totally different, and it kind of ruins the story to pit them against one another. the love she finds with alex is unexpected and precious, gives her a measure of happiness she never had, but it's meant to be ephemeral, by design. it is always doomed. we don't know how their marriage might have gone if circumstances were different, it can't ever be known. they have the glistening window of time they have, and it's beautiful and important, but it's a delicate thing. (it makes me think of that passage from wuthering heights: my love for linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, i'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. my love for heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.) they are those lights of winter, the wonder of hope in the darkness before the cold sets in. her love for her son is immutable, from the beginning. she would always choose him if she was forced to decide. it will always kill her. norma has so many elements of a Romantic gothic heroine, tumultuous and beloved, wrathful and warm, vibrantly alive yet dead before her time, and caught between two disparate loves that unveil multifaceted aspects of her, and that will forever crash upon the rocks in catastrophe. neither of them can ever fully possess her (and she actively rebels against them trying, which is what makes that scene at the christmas tree lot so great, after she finds out they've been arguing over her, "i mean, what am i? like a doll? and the menfolk are gonna hash out who gets the woman and the homestead?"), she is too much herself to belong to anyone, and yet the story has to take her anyway. she is their hearts, and they're destined to lose her.

it's also what makes norman's action devastating but not vindictive, because he's so lost and he believes they're only ever destined to be in pain, to be abandoned, that the world isn't built for them to survive in it. he's not lashing out at her in bloody violence or rage or even jealousy (though he experiences that), what he's trying to do, from his terribly fractured perspective, is end their suffering. is allow them to be together forever without hurting anymore. he's seen her abused and her heart broken again and again, and feels that's sadly inevitable no matter what else they do, where else they go. he's afraid he can't get better. let's remove ourselves from the equation. it's not a villainous act, it's done out of an overwhelming depth of love, just fatally misplaced. and alex's vengeful reaction to this is also understandable, because he has no idea what's gone on with norman and his illness, he cannot fathom taking her away being a tragic version of something akin to mercy, to him it's only cruel. they both react in ways norma, as a whole person with her own agency, would not want them to, but which is unpreventable. they're both left in agonizing grief. the sun is blotted out and neither of them exist long in its absence, in the void she leaves them.

to revile one or fight over such strikingly different kinds of love...is to entirely diminish the purpose of all three characters and the story being told. love is never only one thing, one definition. love can be surprising and healing, love can be abiding and consuming. love has no middle term, either it destroys or it saves. you truly cannot fully understand or even illuminate one love without another. in norma bates' story, it is all of these things, and it accomplishes both ends.

[dimples-of-discontent]

Do you believe Jensen/Misha's relationship (should it exist as we believe it does) is separate from their wives? Or is it one big mess of polyamory? Do you think Vikki and Danneel know?

Hi there Nonnie,

I’ve been sitting on your ask, and a few others like it, for a while because I want to make sure to answer in a way that is thoughtful and respectful (as you have been in phrasing your question). I’ll cheat a little by saying that I’ve written about it before and have both a “polyamory” tag and a “jmdv” tag as well as a couple like “everybody loves everybody” and “besties and whatever else” that I use less frequently. My tag cluster actually reflects my uncertainty about which particular brand of non-monogamy these four might be practicing.

Most of my thoughts are in my longest post. Here’s how I end it:

I agree with other commenters that there are many ways to do non-monogamy that are not a committed multi-person relationship. That’s kind of what I meant by saying these things change over time, with needs, desires, and life situations. And of course none of us can or should (unless they volunteer it) know what is going on with these dear men.

My personal impression is that–with the kids and the brewery and Misha’s activism and charity work–their being together together is maybe just something for cons now, maybe even just for Rome (DEFINITELY for Rome). But they are obviously still close friends at all other times and share a lot of love, of whatever kind. I have heard people say they are sad that Misha and Jensen don’t seem as close, or worry that they are in a “fight.” It doesn’t seem that way to me. True, Jensen isn’t going crazy with Twitter flirtation like in 2015, there’s no sunset boat ride for us, and they aren’t doing a campaign together like YANA. But let us not forget the Honcon panel in which he transformed into a living hearteyes emoji, got hot and bothered about Misha’s accent (which he demanded to hear), and told a first date story that was all gooey-sweet. There’s nothing but love to see here.

I wholeheartedly and completely agree that no one should ever mention it to them. They are in a somewhat fortunate position where they are famous but not quite famous enough to be chased by mainstream celebrity media who could uncover something like this. And of course they don’t want it to be public–it’s not something that is widely understood or accepted and not just them but their families, their wives and kids, would suffer for it. I wish it were otherwise. So we will doubtless never know and that’s ok. We can just know that, whatever it is, it’s pretty special and we’re pretty fortunate to get to share it just a little.

So that’s my official stance. But you’ve invited me to conjecture a bit so I will. I do genuinely believe that Misha and Jensen have some kind of more-than-friends relationship and that they have for almost ten years (with the exception of the break up period, which I also believe in). I certainly believe their wives know or are actively involved it because they obviously love and respect them and I would say are happily married. But you can be happily and non-monogamously married (as Misha and Vicki have been). There is no way they would be engaging in anything without their wives’ full knowledge and consent.

I’d go further and say that their wives may have actively facilitated their relationship. I’ll admit that I may have been compromised by the fact that I’m such a huge fan of The Cockles Fic “When Harry Met Sally” by @mnwood​ (who is a treasure and has many other great fics too). However, I have always felt that especially Danneel would have played a role in getting them together. Misha would have kept his distance from a straight-seeming dude in a serious relationship. Jensen would have been hesitant and potentially stressed or upset by his feelings depending on how familiar he was with same-sex relationships and with the whole concept of non-monogamy which, well, Jensen is a dark horse so I can’t really say. But his intense worry early on about public perception and his desire to please everyone (and, dude, hard same) makes me think he’d have a fair few hangups about the idea of starting something sexual with a married male costar while in a serious relationship with a woman.

It explains some things too, like why he found Misha so disconcerting (”no one has ever put me back on my heels like Misha did that first day”) and weird. I mean, Misha is unusual, but there’s also a lot of projection there where he’d attribute his own “weird” feelings about Misha to Misha’s own “weirdness.” You can see in very early interviews and outtakes that Jensen is fascinated by Misha. I’m sure he’d really never met anyone like him (who has?) and, although I don’t believe the entire Destiel arc is down to their chemistry, I do think that fascination and attraction reads on camera. In response, I think Misha was a little shy and shocked as well as flattered by so much attention from such an attractive man. I doubt he would have even believed Jensen could be interested in him. With that in mind, I think the idea that Jensen had this obvious and huge crush and that it drove Danneel crazy is pretty plausible. I know that if my partner had a crush like that I’d be like “OH MY GOD JUST GO FOR IT!”.

We also know that Misha and Danneel were almost instant friends. Jensen has said that they share a sense of humor, that they are both “twisted” in the same way. (He’s actually come a hair’s breadth saying that he has a type…) I actually would not be at all surprised, at all, if Misha and Danneel have their own thing sometimes. There’s some real sexual tension there too as well as a great deal of respect and affection (naturally). Is Jensen there too? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe only sometimes. Maybe he’s tied up whimpering and watching the two doms in his life go at it. I don’t know–go use your fanfic imaginations.

The major question mark for me is Vicki since she’s a private person who doesn’t have to be in the public eye for her job and so isn’t. (I admire her so much, for so many reasons.) Her book obviously tells us that she’s open to multi-partner sex and enjoys sleeping with both men and women. So it’s not impossible that she’s involved too. Given the constraints of time, distance, children, and all the rest of life, however, I doubt that they’re chilling in a 4-tet or anything and probably never were. My best guess is that it’s now an occasional thing between Misha and Jensen even if it used to be more. I feel like post-breakup the character of whatever they have did change…perhaps to become more serious (although the rings suggest maybe it was serious before) or maybe less intense (I can see them being super intense right at first after lots of tension and build-up). And children change the whole dynamic no matter what!

So, to answer your original question after great length, I’m sure their wives know and I doubt they’re all in a poly relationship. It’s probably something in the middle–mostly separate for those two but also infrequent or occasional but no less special for that. And let’s remind ourselves again, we don’t know any of this stuff on any authority. I’m speculating about it with the understanding that I don’t have the right to know any of this and never will (unless they go public). This stuff is private because they want it to be that way and, speculate as we may, we must always respect that and keep it to ourselves. I just feel lucky to get to see a small part of it. It never fails to make me happy.

Obligatory link to favorite polyamory resource: https://www.morethantwo.com/ 

[odditycollector]

What a Shocking Bad Hat! or, we have always been what we are

A few years ago, I read “Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds“ by Charles Mackay, published in 1848, and there was one chapter that utterly and forever changed the way I think about internet memes.

I’m going to excerpt some of it below. Any bolding is mine - if you’re not in the mood to read a whole bunch, just see if those parts seem familiar.

Chapter 13: Popular Follies of Great Cities

And, first of all, walk where we will, we cannot help hearing from every side a phrase repeated with delight, and received with laughter, by men with hard hands and dirty faces — by saucy butcher lads and errand-boys — by loose women — by hackney coachmen, cabriolet drivers, and idle fellows who loiter at the corners of streets. Not one utters this phrase without producing a laugh from all within hearing. It seems applicable to every circumstance, and is the universal answer to every question; in short, it is the favourite slang phrase of the day, a phrase that, while its brief season of popularity lasts, throws a dash of fun and frolicsomeness over the existence of squalid poverty and ill-requited labour, and gives them reason to laugh as well as their more fortunate fellows in a higher stage of society.

London is peculiarly fertile in this sort of phrases, which spring up suddenly, no one knows exactly in what spot, and pervade the whole population in a few hours, no one knows how. Many years ago the favourite phrase (for, though but a monosyllable, it was a phrase in itself) was QUOZ. This odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning. When vulgar wit wished to mark its incredulity and raise a laugh at the same time, there was no resource so sure as this popular piece of slang. When a man was asked a favour which he did not choose to grant, he marked his sense of the suitor's unparalleled presumption by exclaiming Quoz! When a mischievous urchin wished to annoy a passenger, and create mirth for his chums, he looked him in the face, and cried out Quoz! and the exclamation never failed in its object. When a disputant was desirous of throwing a doubt upon the veracity of his opponent, and getting summarily rid of an argument which he could not overturn, he uttered the word Quoz, with a contemptuous curl of his lip and an impatient shrug of his shoulders. The universal monosyllable conveyed all his meaning, and not only told his opponent that he lied, but that he erred egregiously if he thought that any one was such a nincompoop as to believe him. Every alehouse resounded with Quoz; every street corner was noisy with it, and every wall for miles around was chalked with it.

But, like all other earthly things, Quoz had its season, and passed away as suddenly as it arose, never again to be the pet and the idol of the populace. A new claimant drove it from its place, and held undisputed sway till, in its turn, it was hurled from its pre-eminence, and a successor appointed in its stead.

"What a shocking bad hat!" was the phrase that was next in vogue. No sooner had it become universal, than thousands of idle but sharp eyes were on the watch for the passenger whose hat showed any signs, however slight, of ancient service. 

[...]

Hookey Walker, derived from the chorus of a popular ballad, was also high in favour at one time, and served, like its predecessor, Quoz, to answer all questions. [...] This lasted for two or three months, and “Walker!” walked off the stage, never more to be revived for the entertainment of that or any future generation.

The next phrase was a most preposterous one. Who invented it, how it arose, or where it was first heard, are alike unknown. Nothing about it is certain, but that for months it was the slang par excellence of the Londoners, and afforded them a vast gratification. "There he goes with his eye out!" or “There she goes with her eye out!” as the sex of the party alluded to might be, was in the mouth of everybody who knew the town. The sober part of the community were as much puzzled by this unaccountable saying as the vulgar were delighted with it. The wise thought it very foolish, but the many thought it very funny, and the idle amused themselves by chalking it upon walls, or scribbling it upon monuments. But, “all that's bright must fade,” even in slang. The people grew tired of their hobby, and “There he goes with his eye out!” was heard no more in its accustomed haunts.

[...] successor enjoyed a more extended fame, and laid its foundations so deep, that years and changing fashions have not sufficed to eradicate it. This phrase was “Flare up!” and it is, even now, a colloquialism in common use. [...]

So universal was this phrase, and so enduring seemed its popularity, that a speculator, who knew not the evanescence of slang, established a weekly newspaper under its name. But he was like the man who built his house upon the sand; his foundation gave way under him, and the phrase and the newspaper were washed into the mighty sea of the things that were. The people grew at last weary of the monotony, and "flare up" became vulgar even among them. Gradually it was left to little boys who did not know the world, and in process of time sank altogether into neglect. It is now heard no more as a piece of popular slang; but the words are still used to signify any sudden outburst either of fire, disturbance, or ill-nature.

[...]

But it must not be supposed that there were no interregni between the dominion of one slang phrase and another. They did not arise in one long line of unbroken succession, but shared with song the possession of popular favour. Thus, when the people were in the mood for music, slang advanced its claims to no purpose, and, when they were inclined for slang, the sweet voice of music wooed them in vain. About twenty years ago London resounded with one chorus, with the love of which everybody seemed to be smitten. Girls and boys, young men and old, maidens and wives, and widows, were all alike musical. There was an absolute mania for singing, and the worst of it was, that, like good Father Philip, in the romance of "The Monastery," they seemed utterly unable to change their tune. “Cherry ripe!” “Cherry ripe!” was the universal cry of all the idle in the town. Every unmelodious voice gave utterance to it; every crazy fiddle, every cracked flute, every wheezy pipe, every street organ was heard in the same strain, until studious and quiet men stopped their ears in desperation, or fled miles away into the fields or woodlands, to be at peace. This plague lasted for a twelvemonth, until the very name of cherries became an abomination in the land. At last the excitement wore itself away, and the tide of favour set in a new direction.

[...]

Such are a few of the peculiarities of the London multitude, when no riot, no execution, no murder, no balloon, disturbs the even current of their thoughts. These are the whimseys of the mass - the harmless follies by which they unconsciously endeavour to lighten the load of care which presses upon their existence. The wise man, even though he smile at them, will not altogether withhold his sympathy, and will say, "Let them enjoy their slang phrases and their choruses if they will; and if they cannot be happy, at least let them be merry." [...]

I left in a few of the stories  for full context, but left out some of my more favourite.

You can read the whole chapter (& book) here - it has been in the public domain for a while.  Be aware however that one of these “popular follies” is minstrel shows, although it is handled better than you might expect for 1848. Author fucking hates them. (Exactly *how* well it is handled depends on if you read paragraph 21 as sarcasm. I have a hard time doing otherwise.)

[themoneybuff-blog]

The perfect is the enemy of the good

Im home! Over the past two weeks, I drove 1625 miles across across seven southeastern states. I had a blast hanging out with readers, friends, and colleagues. Plus, it was fun to explore some parts of the country that Kim and I skipped during our RV trip a few years ago. Most fun of all, though, was talking to dozens of different people about money. After two weeks of money talk, I have a lot to think about. I was struck, for instance, by how many people are paralyzed by the need to make perfect decisions. Theyre afraid of making mistakes with their money, so instead of moving forward, they freeze like a deer in headlights. It might seem strange to claim that the pursuit of perfection prevents people from achieving their financial aims, but its true. Long-time readers know that this is a key part of my financial philosophy: The perfect is the enemy of the good. Here, for instance, is a typical reader email: Thirty-plus years ago I was making much less money than when I retired so my tax rate was lower. I sometimes wonder now if it would have been better to pay the taxes at the time I earned the money and invest and pay taxes all along rather than deferring the taxes. You can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that! Yes, you can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that. This reader retired early and has zero debt. Theyre in great financial shape. Yet theyre fretting over the fact that tax-deferred investments might not have been the optimal choice back in 1986. Regret is one of the perils of perfectionism. There are others. Lets look at why so many smart people find themselves fighting the urge to be perfect. Maximizers and Satisficers For a long time, I was a perfectionist. When I had to make a decision, I only wanted to choose the best. At the same time, I was a deeply unhappy man who never got anything done. Although I didnt realize it at the time, the pursuit of perfection was the root of my problems. In 2005, I read The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. This fascinating book explores how a culture of abundance actually robs us of satisfaction. We believe more options will make us happier, but the increased choice actually has the opposite effect. Especially for perfectionists. [embedded content] Schwartz divides the world into two types of people: maximizers and satisficers. Heres how he describes the difference: Choosing wisely begins with developing a clear understanding of your goals. And the first choice you must make is between the goal of choosing the absolute best and choosing something that is good enough. If you seek and accept only the best, you are a maximizerMaximizers need to be assured that every purchase or decision was the best that could be made. In other words, maximizers are perfectionists. The alternative to maximizing is to be a satisficer, writes Schwartz. To satisfice is to settle for something that is good enough and not worry about the possibility that there might be something better. To maximizers, this sounds like heresy. Settle for good enough? Good enough seldom is! proclaims the perfectionist. To her, the satisficer seems to lack standards. But thats not true. A satisficer does have standards, and theyre often clearly defined. The difference is that a satisficer is content with excellent while a maximizer is on a quest for perfect. And heres the interesting thing: All of this maximizing in pursuit of perfection actually leads to less satisfaction and happiness, not more. Heres what Schwartz says about his research: People with high maximization [tendencies] experienced less satisfaction with life, were less optimistic, and were more depressed than people with low maximization [tendencies]Maximizers are much more susceptible than satisficers to all forms of regret. Schwartz is careful to note that being a maximizer is correlated with unhappiness; theres no evidence of a causal relationship. Still, it seems safe to assume that there is a connection. Ive seen it in my own life. Maximizing in Real Life

For a long, long time, I was a maximizer. When I had to make any sort of decision, I researched the hell out of it. I wanted to buy and do and have only the best. But you know what? No matter how much time I put into picking the perfect product, it always fell short of my expectations. Thats because theres no such thing as a perfect product. In the olden days, for instance, if I needed to buy a dishwasher, I would make an elaborate spreadsheet to collate all of my options. Id then consult the latest Consumer Reports buying guide, check Amazon reviews, and search for other resources to help guide my decision. Id enter all of the data into my spreadsheet, then try to find the best option. The trouble? There was rarely one best option for any choice I was trying to make. One dishwasher might use less energy while another produced cleaner dishes. This dishwasher might have special wine holders while that had the highest reliability scores. How was I supposed to find the perfect machine? Why couldnt one manufacturer combine everything into one Super Dishwasher? It was an impossible quest, and I know that now. Nowadays, Im mostly able to ignore my maximizing tendencies. Ive taught myself to be a satisficer. When I had to replace my dead dishwasher three years ago, I didnt aim for perfection. Instead, I made a plan and stuck to it. First, I set a budget. Because it would cost about $700 to repair our old dishwasher, I allowed myself that much for a new appliance.Next, I picked one store and shopped from its universe of available dishwashers.After that, I limited myself to only a handful of brands, the ones whose quality I trusted most.Finally, I gave myself a time limit. Instead of spending days trying to find the Best Dishwasher Ever, I allocated a couple of hours on a weekend afternoon to find an acceptable model. Armed with my Consumer Reports buying guide (and my phone so that I could look stuff up online), I marched into the local Sears outlet center. In less than an hour, I had narrowed my options from thirty dishwashers to three. With Kims help, I picked a winner. The process was quick and easy. The dishwasher has served us well for the past three years, and Ive had zero buyers remorse. A Trivial Example At Camp FI in January, one of the attendees explained that hes found freedom through letting go of trivial decisions. For things that wont have a lasting impact on his life, he doesnt belabor his options. Instead, he makes a quick decision and moves on. In restaurants, for instance, he doesnt look at every item on the menu. He doesnt try to optimize his order. Instead, he makes a quick pass through the list, then picks the first thing that catches his eye. It sounds silly, he told me, but doing this makes a huge difference to my happiness. For the past four months, Ive been trying this technique. You know what? It works! I now make menu choices in seconds rather than minutes, and my dining experience is better because of it. This is a trivial example, I know, but its also illustrative of the point Im trying to make. Perfect Procrastinators Studies have shown that perfectionists are more likely to have physical and mental problems than those who are open-minded and flexible. Theres another drawback to the pursuit of perfect: It costs time and lots of it. To find the best option, whether its the top dishwasher or the ideal index fund, can take days or weeks or months. (And sometimes its an impossible mission.) The pursuit of perfection is an exercise in diminishing returns: A bit of initial research is usually enough to glean the basics needed to make a smart decision.A little additional research is enough to help you separate the wheat from the chaff.A moderate amount of time brings you to the point where you can make an informed decision and obtain quality results.Theoretically, if you had unlimited time, you might find the perfect option. The more time you spend on research, the better your results are likely to be. But each unit of time you spend in search of higher quality offers less reward than the unit of time before.

Quality is important. You should absolutely take time to research your investment and buying decisions. But remember that perfect is a moving target, one thats almost impossible to hit. Its usually better to shoot for good enough today than to aim for a perfect decision next week. Procrastination is one common consequence of pursuing perfection: You can come up with all sorts of reasons to put off establishing an emergency fund, to put off cutting up your credit cards, to put off starting a retirement account. But most of the time, your best choice is to start now. Who cares if you dont find the best interest rate? Who cares if you dont find the best mutual fund? Youve found some good ones, right? Pick one. Get in the game. Just start. Starting plays a greater role in your success than any other factor. There will always be time to optimize in the future. When you spend so much time looking for the best choice that you never actually do anything, youre sabotaging yourself. The perfect is the enemy of the good. Final Thoughts If your quest for the best is making you unhappy, then its hurting rather than helping. If your desire to get things exactly right is preventing you from taking any sort of positive action, then youre better off settling for good enough. If you experience regret because you didnt make an optimal choice in the past, force yourself to look at the sunny side of your decision. Train yourself to be a satisficer. Ask yourself what good enough would mean each time youre faced with a decision. What would it mean to accept that instead of perfection?If you must pursue perfection, focus on the big stuff first. I get a lot of email from readers who fall into the optimization trap. They spend too much time and energy perfecting small, unimportant things newspaper subscriptions, online savings accounts, etc. instead of the things that matter most, such as housing and transportation costs. Fix the broken things first, then optimize the big stuff. After all of that is done, then it makes sense to get the small things perfect.Practice refinement. Start with good enough, then make incremental improvements over time. Say youre looking for a new credit card. Instead of spending hours searching for the best option, find a good option and go with it. Then, in the months and years ahead, keep an eye out for better cards. When you find one you like, make the switch. Make perfection a long-term project.Dont dwell on the past. If youve made mistakes, learn from them and move on. If youve made good but imperfect decisions such as the Money Boss reader who wishes they hadnt saved so much in tax-deferred accounts celebrate what you did right instead of dwelling on the minor flaws in the results.Embrace the imperfection. Everyone makes mistakes even billionaires like Warren Buffett. Dont let one slip-up drag you down. One key difference between those who succeed and those who dont is the ability to recover from a setback and keep marching toward a goal. Use failures to learn what not to do next time. I dont think perfection is a bad thing. Its a noble goal. Its not wrong to want the best for yourself and your family. But I think its important to recognize when the pursuit of perfection stands in your way rather than helps you build a better life. https://www.getrichslowly.org/perfect-is-the-enemy-of-the-good/

[andrewdburton]

The perfect is the enemy of the good

I’m home! Over the past two weeks, I drove 1625 miles across across seven southeastern states. I had a blast hanging out with readers, friends, and colleagues. Plus, it was fun to explore some parts of the country that Kim and I skipped during our RV trip a few years ago. Most fun of all, though, was talking to dozens of different people about money.

After two weeks of money talk, I have a lot to think about. I was struck, for instance, by how many people are paralyzed by the need to make perfect decisions. They’re afraid of making mistakes with their money, so instead of moving forward, they freeze — like a deer in headlights.

It might seem strange to claim that the pursuit of perfection prevents people from achieving their financial aims, but it’s true. Long-time readers know that this is a key part of my financial philosophy: The perfect is the enemy of the good.

Here, for instance, is a typical reader email:

Thirty-plus years ago I was making much less money than when I retired so my tax rate was lower. I sometimes wonder now if it would have been better to pay the taxes at the time I earned the money and invest and pay taxes all along rather than deferring the taxes. You can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that!

Yes, you can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that. This reader retired early and has zero debt. They’re in great financial shape. Yet they’re fretting over the fact that tax-deferred investments might not have been the optimal choice back in 1986.

Regret is one of the perils of perfectionism. There are others. Let’s look at why so many smart people find themselves fighting the urge to be perfect.

Maximizers and Satisficers

For a long time, I was a perfectionist. When I had to make a decision, I only wanted to choose the best. At the same time, I was a deeply unhappy man who never got anything done. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, the pursuit of perfection was the root of my problems.

In 2005, I read The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. This fascinating book explores how a culture of abundance actually robs us of satisfaction. We believe more options will make us happier, but the increased choice actually has the opposite effect. Especially for perfectionists.

Schwartz divides the world into two types of people: maximizers and satisficers. Here’s how he describes the difference:

Choosing wisely begins with developing a clear understanding of your goals. And the first choice you must make is between the goal of choosing the absolute best and choosing something that is good enough. If you seek and accept only the best, you are a maximizer…Maximizers need to be assured that every purchase or decision was the best that could be made.

In other words, maximizers are perfectionists.

“The alternative to maximizing is to be a satisficer,” writes Schwartz. “To satisfice is to settle for something that is good enough and not worry about the possibility that there might be something better.”

To maximizers, this sounds like heresy. Settle for good enough? “Good enough seldom is!” proclaims the perfectionist. To her, the satisficer seems to lack standards. But that’s not true.

A satisficer does have standards, and they’re often clearly defined. The difference is that a satisficer is content with excellent while a maximizer is on a quest for perfect.

And here’s the interesting thing: All of this maximizing in pursuit of perfection actually leads to less satisfaction and happiness, not more. Here’s what Schwartz says about his research:

People with high maximization [tendencies] experienced less satisfaction with life, were less optimistic, and were more depressed than people with low maximization [tendencies]…Maximizers are much more susceptible than satisficers to all forms of regret.

Schwartz is careful to note that being a maximizer is correlated with unhappiness; there’s no evidence of a causal relationship. Still, it seems safe to assume that there is a connection.

I’ve seen it in my own life.

Maximizing in Real Life

For a long, long time, I was a maximizer. When I had to make any sort of decision, I researched the hell out of it. I wanted to buy and do and have only the best. But you know what? No matter how much time I put into picking the perfect product, it always fell short of my expectations. That’s because there’s no such thing as a perfect product.

In the olden days, for instance, if I needed to buy a dishwasher, I would make an elaborate spreadsheet to collate all of my options. I’d then consult the latest Consumer Reports buying guide, check Amazon reviews, and search for other resources to help guide my decision. I’d enter all of the data into my spreadsheet, then try to find the best option.

The trouble? There was rarely one best option for any choice I was trying to make. One dishwasher might use less energy while another produced cleaner dishes. This dishwasher might have special wine holders while that had the highest reliability scores. How was I supposed to find the perfect machine? Why couldn’t one manufacturer combine everything into one Super Dishwasher?

It was an impossible quest, and I know that now.

Nowadays, I’m mostly able to ignore my maximizing tendencies. I’ve taught myself to be a satisficer. When I had to replace my dead dishwasher three years ago, I didn’t aim for perfection. Instead, I made a plan and stuck to it.

First, I set a budget. Because it would cost about $700 to repair our old dishwasher, I allowed myself that much for a new appliance.

Next, I picked one store and shopped from its universe of available dishwashers.

After that, I limited myself to only a handful of brands, the ones whose quality I trusted most.

Finally, I gave myself a time limit. Instead of spending days trying to find the Best Dishwasher Ever, I allocated a couple of hours on a weekend afternoon to find an acceptable model.

Armed with my Consumer Reports buying guide (and my phone so that I could look stuff up online), I marched into the local Sears outlet center. In less than an hour, I had narrowed my options from thirty dishwashers to three. With Kim’s help, I picked a winner.

The process was quick and easy. The dishwasher has served us well for the past three years, and I’ve had zero buyer’s remorse.

A Trivial Example At Camp FI in January, one of the attendees explained that he’s found freedom through letting go of trivial decisions. For things that won’t have a lasting impact on his life, he doesn’t belabor his options. Instead, he makes a quick decision and moves on.

In restaurants, for instance, he doesn’t look at every item on the menu. He doesn’t try to optimize his order. Instead, he makes a quick pass through the list, then picks the first thing that catches his eye. “It sounds silly,” he told me, “but doing this makes a huge difference to my happiness.”

For the past four months, I’ve been trying this technique. You know what? It works! I now make menu choices in seconds rather than minutes, and my dining experience is better because of it. This is a trivial example, I know, but it’s also illustrative of the point I’m trying to make.

Perfect Procrastinators

Studies have shown that perfectionists are more likely to have physical and mental problems than those who are open-minded and flexible. There’s another drawback to the pursuit of perfect: It costs time — and lots of it. To find the best option, whether it’s the top dishwasher or the ideal index fund, can take days or weeks or months. (And sometimes it’s an impossible mission.)

The pursuit of perfection is an exercise in diminishing returns:

A bit of initial research is usually enough to glean the basics needed to make a smart decision.

A little additional research is enough to help you separate the wheat from the chaff.

A moderate amount of time brings you to the point where you can make an informed decision and obtain quality results.

Theoretically, if you had unlimited time, you might find the perfect option.

The more time you spend on research, the better your results are likely to be. But each unit of time you spend in search of higher quality offers less reward than the unit of time before.

Quality is important. You should absolutely take time to research your investment and buying decisions. But remember that perfect is a moving target, one that’s almost impossible to hit. It’s usually better to shoot for “good enough” today than to aim for a perfect decision next week.

Procrastination is one common consequence of pursuing perfection: You can come up with all sorts of reasons to put off establishing an emergency fund, to put off cutting up your credit cards, to put off starting a retirement account. But most of the time, your best choice is to start now.

Who cares if you don’t find the best interest rate? Who cares if you don’t find the best mutual fund? You’ve found some good ones, right? Pick one. Get in the game. Just start. Starting plays a greater role in your success than any other factor. There will always be time to optimize in the future.

When you spend so much time looking for the “best” choice that you never actually do anything, you’re sabotaging yourself. The perfect is the enemy of the good.

Final Thoughts

If your quest for the best is making you unhappy, then it’s hurting rather than helping. If your desire to get things exactly right is preventing you from taking any sort of positive action, then you’re better off settling for “good enough”. If you experience regret because you didn’t make an optimal choice in the past, force yourself to look at the sunny side of your decision.

Train yourself to be a satisficer. Ask yourself what “good enough” would mean each time you’re faced with a decision. What would it mean to accept that instead of perfection?

If you must pursue perfection, focus on the big stuff first. I get a lot of email from readers who fall into the optimization trap. They spend too much time and energy perfecting small, unimportant things — newspaper subscriptions, online savings accounts, etc. — instead of the things that matter most, such as housing and transportation costs. Fix the broken things first, then optimize the big stuff. After all of that is done, then it makes sense to get the small things perfect.

Practice refinement. Start with “good enough”, then make incremental improvements over time. Say you’re looking for a new credit card. Instead of spending hours searching for the best option, find a good option and go with it. Then, in the months and years ahead, keep an eye out for better cards. When you find one you like, make the switch. Make perfection a long-term project.

Don’t dwell on the past. If you’ve made mistakes, learn from them and move on. If you’ve made good but imperfect decisions — such as the Money Boss reader who wishes they hadn’t saved so much in tax-deferred accounts — celebrate what you did right instead of dwelling on the minor flaws in the results.

Embrace the imperfection. Everyone makes mistakes — even billionaires like Warren Buffett. Don’t let one slip-up drag you down. One key difference between those who succeed and those who don’t is the ability to recover from a setback and keep marching toward a goal. Use failures to learn what not to do next time.

I don’t think perfection is a bad thing. It’s a noble goal. It’s not wrong to want the best for yourself and your family. But I think it’s important to recognize when the pursuit of perfection stands in your way rather than helps you build a better life.

The post The perfect is the enemy of the good appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/perfect-is-the-enemy-of-the-good/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[foursproutwealth-blog]

The perfect is the enemy of the good

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/the-perfect-is-the-enemy-of-the-good/

The perfect is the enemy of the good

I’m home! Over the past two weeks, I drove 1625 miles across across seven southeastern states. I had a blast hanging out with readers, friends, and colleagues. Plus, it was fun to explore some parts of the country that Kim and I skipped during our RV trip a few years ago. Most fun of all, though, was talking to dozens of different people about money.

After two weeks of money talk, I have a lot to think about. I was struck, for instance, by how many people are paralyzed by the need to make perfect decisions. They’re afraid of making mistakes with their money, so instead of moving forward, they freeze — like a deer in headlights.

It might seem strange to claim that the pursuit of perfection prevents people from achieving their financial aims, but it’s true. Long-time readers know that this is a key part of my financial philosophy: The perfect is the enemy of the good.

Here, for instance, is a typical reader email:

Thirty-plus years ago I was making much less money than when I retired so my tax rate was lower. I sometimes wonder now if it would have been better to pay the taxes at the time I earned the money and invest and pay taxes all along rather than deferring the taxes. You can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that!

Yes, you can make yourself crazy thinking about stuff like that. This reader retired early and has zero debt. They’re in great financial shape. Yet they’re fretting over the fact that tax-deferred investments might not have been the optimal choice back in 1986.

Regret is one of the perils of perfectionism. There are others. Let’s look at why so many smart people find themselves fighting the urge to be perfect.

Maximizers and Satisficers

For a long time, I was a perfectionist. When I had to make a decision, I only wanted to choose the best. At the same time, I was a deeply unhappy man who never got anything done. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, the pursuit of perfection was the root of my problems.

In 2005, I read The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. This fascinating book explores how a culture of abundance actually robs us of satisfaction. We believe more options will make us happier, but the increased choice actually has the opposite effect. Especially for perfectionists.

Schwartz divides the world into two types of people: maximizers and satisficers. Here’s how he describes the difference:

Choosing wisely begins with developing a clear understanding of your goals. And the first choice you must make is between the goal of choosing the absolute best and choosing something that is good enough. If you seek and accept only the best, you are a maximizer…Maximizers need to be assured that every purchase or decision was the best that could be made.

In other words, maximizers are perfectionists.

“The alternative to maximizing is to be a satisficer,” writes Schwartz. “To satisfice is to settle for something that is good enough and not worry about the possibility that there might be something better.”

To maximizers, this sounds like heresy. Settle for good enough? “Good enough seldom is!” proclaims the perfectionist. To her, the satisficer seems to lack standards. But that’s not true.

A satisficer does have standards, and they’re often clearly defined. The difference is that a satisficer is content with excellent while a maximizer is on a quest for perfect.

And here’s the interesting thing: All of this maximizing in pursuit of perfection actually leads to less satisfaction and happiness, not more. Here’s what Schwartz says about his research:

People with high maximization [tendencies] experienced less satisfaction with life, were less optimistic, and were more depressed than people with low maximization [tendencies]…Maximizers are much more susceptible than satisficers to all forms of regret.

Schwartz is careful to note that being a maximizer is correlated with unhappiness; there’s no evidence of a causal relationship. Still, it seems safe to assume that there is a connection.

I’ve seen it in my own life.

Maximizing in Real Life

For a long, long time, I was a maximizer. When I had to make any sort of decision, I researched the hell out of it. I wanted to buy and do and have only the best. But you know what? No matter how much time I put into picking the perfect product, it always fell short of my expectations. That’s because there’s no such thing as a perfect product.

In the olden days, for instance, if I needed to buy a dishwasher, I would make an elaborate spreadsheet to collate all of my options. I’d then consult the latest Consumer Reports buying guide, check Amazon reviews, and search for other resources to help guide my decision. I’d enter all of the data into my spreadsheet, then try to find the best option.

The trouble? There was rarely one best option for any choice I was trying to make. One dishwasher might use less energy while another produced cleaner dishes. This dishwasher might have special wine holders while that had the highest reliability scores. How was I supposed to find the perfect machine? Why couldn’t one manufacturer combine everything into one Super Dishwasher?

It was an impossible quest, and I know that now.

Nowadays, I’m mostly able to ignore my maximizing tendencies. I’ve taught myself to be a satisficer. When I had to replace my dead dishwasher three years ago, I didn’t aim for perfection. Instead, I made a plan and stuck to it.

First, I set a budget. Because it would cost about $700 to repair our old dishwasher, I allowed myself that much for a new appliance.

Next, I picked one store and shopped from its universe of available dishwashers.

After that, I limited myself to only a handful of brands, the ones whose quality I trusted most.

Finally, I gave myself a time limit. Instead of spending days trying to find the Best Dishwasher Ever, I allocated a couple of hours on a weekend afternoon to find an acceptable model.

Armed with my Consumer Reports buying guide (and my phone so that I could look stuff up online), I marched into the local Sears outlet center. In less than an hour, I had narrowed my options from thirty dishwashers to three. With Kim’s help, I picked a winner.

The process was quick and easy. The dishwasher has served us well for the past three years, and I’ve had zero buyer’s remorse.

A Trivial Example At Camp FI in January, one of the attendees explained that he’s found freedom through letting go of trivial decisions. For things that won’t have a lasting impact on his life, he doesn’t belabor his options. Instead, he makes a quick decision and moves on.

In restaurants, for instance, he doesn’t look at every item on the menu. He doesn’t try to optimize his order. Instead, he makes a quick pass through the list, then picks the first thing that catches his eye. “It sounds silly,” he told me, “but doing this makes a huge difference to my happiness.”

For the past four months, I’ve been trying this technique. You know what? It works! I now make menu choices in seconds rather than minutes, and my dining experience is better because of it. This is a trivial example, I know, but it’s also illustrative of the point I’m trying to make.

Perfect Procrastinators

Studies have shown that perfectionists are more likely to have physical and mental problems than those who are open-minded and flexible. There’s another drawback to the pursuit of perfect: It costs time — and lots of it. To find the best option, whether it’s the top dishwasher or the ideal index fund, can take days or weeks or months. (And sometimes it’s an impossible mission.)

The pursuit of perfection is an exercise in diminishing returns:

A bit of initial research is usually enough to glean the basics needed to make a smart decision.

A little additional research is enough to help you separate the wheat from the chaff.

A moderate amount of time brings you to the point where you can make an informed decision and obtain quality results.

Theoretically, if you had unlimited time, you might find the perfect option.

The more time you spend on research, the better your results are likely to be. But each unit of time you spend in search of higher quality offers less reward than the unit of time before.

Quality is important. You should absolutely take time to research your investment and buying decisions. But remember that perfect is a moving target, one that’s almost impossible to hit. It’s usually better to shoot for “good enough” today than to aim for a perfect decision next week.

Procrastination is one common consequence of pursuing perfection: You can come up with all sorts of reasons to put off establishing an emergency fund, to put off cutting up your credit cards, to put off starting a retirement account. But most of the time, your best choice is to start now.

Who cares if you don’t find the best interest rate? Who cares if you don’t find the best mutual fund? You’ve found some good ones, right? Pick one. Get in the game. Just start. Starting plays a greater role in your success than any other factor. There will always be time to optimize in the future.

When you spend so much time looking for the “best” choice that you never actually do anything, you’re sabotaging yourself. The perfect is the enemy of the good.

Final Thoughts

If your quest for the best is making you unhappy, then it’s hurting rather than helping. If your desire to get things exactly right is preventing you from taking any sort of positive action, then you’re better off settling for “good enough”. If you experience regret because you didn’t make an optimal choice in the past, force yourself to look at the sunny side of your decision.

Train yourself to be a satisficer. Ask yourself what “good enough” would mean each time you’re faced with a decision. What would it mean to accept that instead of perfection?

If you must pursue perfection, focus on the big stuff first. I get a lot of email from readers who fall into the optimization trap. They spend too much time and energy perfecting small, unimportant things — newspaper subscriptions, online savings accounts, etc. — instead of the things that matter most, such as housing and transportation costs. Fix the broken things first, then optimize the big stuff. After all of that is done, then it makes sense to get the small things perfect.

Practice refinement. Start with “good enough”, then make incremental improvements over time. Say you’re looking for a new credit card. Instead of spending hours searching for the best option, find a good option and go with it. Then, in the months and years ahead, keep an eye out for better cards. When you find one you like, make the switch. Make perfection a long-term project.

Don’t dwell on the past. If you’ve made mistakes, learn from them and move on. If you’ve made good but imperfect decisions — such as the Money Boss reader who wishes they hadn’t saved so much in tax-deferred accounts — celebrate what you did right instead of dwelling on the minor flaws in the results.

Embrace the imperfection. Everyone makes mistakes — even billionaires like Warren Buffett. Don’t let one slip-up drag you down. One key difference between those who succeed and those who don’t is the ability to recover from a setback and keep marching toward a goal. Use failures to learn what not to do next time.

I don’t think perfection is a bad thing. It’s a noble goal. It’s not wrong to want the best for yourself and your family. But I think it’s important to recognize when the pursuit of perfection stands in your way rather than helps you build a better life.

The post The perfect is the enemy of the good appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #81: Lies.

Written: 3/30/2017

It had all started with a bad joke: Dan had showed up late to his date, and his excuse was, “My dog had run away, so I had to feel that the situation was hopeless before I could have a good night.” He had really been stuck in traffic, a train had stopped on the tracks and he had gotten boxed in around other cars, forcing him to wait for the obstacle to move already. Before he moved to this town, he was a bit of a train enthusiast, but now the sight of one would make him angry, and when he was angry he would sweat, heavily, so when he finally showed up at the restaurant, where his date appeared to be reasonably irritated, she asked him if he had been running around, then the joke had left his mouth. His old friends (who had now abandoned him for this reason) often told him that he had a shitty sense of humor, but he was a persistent fucker so that only made him tell even more bad jokes, and half of the time people couldn’t even tell that it was supposed to be humorous, and he always gave of the same vibe that people got when they watch terrible sitcoms, and all of the sudden a laugh track sounds after a character just said something seemingly innocuous, so the viewer has to sit there puzzled, because they couldn’t tell how that line could have been a joke, and they don’t know if they missed something, or it was just that terrible. When this attempt at a joke had left his mouth, the date had taken it seriously, offered to help him search for the dog, so, due to him being to embarrassed to explain, they spent the whole night walking around, calling out the name “Fido”, which Dan figured was a believable dog name, and was better than his first idea, “Rin Tin Tin”.

Even though the fictional dog was never found, the girl felt bad for Dan, they bonded a little bit, and another date was on the table, which made him feel as if that he had to commit to the missing dog story just a bit more. How would she feel if she found out that he had her walk around town, four hours on end, as a part of some wild goose chase? So, in order to protect her dignity, and more importantly, save his own ass, he found some pictures of golden retrievers online, made posters for the dog, and began to put them up all over town, as if he was actually searching, but made sure to put a couple near the area of the date, so that the girl would see. It was surprising when he received some calls, but he just decided to ignore all of them, knowing that they hadn’t found the dog.

The date went well, and then there was a third and a fourth, then next thing that Dan knew he was beginning to fall in love with the girl, but too much of his identity had formed around the fictional dog that he had lost, and it was like his life was turning into a bad sitcom, but he wasn’t self aware enough to realize it had been heading in that direction for years. The posters had brought in too many calls, due to the town having a stray dog problem, which had actually been the main focus of local politics, and Dan realized that he had to do something about the calls, but couldn’t keep the posters up, so he decided to hire somebody minimum wage to take the calls, and just kind of talk in a circular fashion until they grew bored and decided to hang up. Then, the makeshift call center was receiving complaints that it was too difficult to get in touch with, the line was always busy and the wait was ridiculously long, people needed, desperately, to do their civic duty and feel good about themselves, but Dan decided to hell with them, and kept the current operation, until his girlfriend had noticed and suggested that he make a website, which he then had to do, because he had often talked about the impossible connection he had with “Fido”, how he could never get another dog, never stop searching. The website was pretty dingy at first, but then he decided that he had to make it more realistic, so he started adding resources like a page to leave anonymous tips, a timer on the top of the page that shows how long the dog had been missing, descriptions of the dogs made up behaviors, its favorite foods and spots to visit, local dogs that it had been seen associating with before the disappearance, and even several videos where Dan pretended to be emotional in front of a camera, telling stories about how much he loved the dog, how the dog allowed him to cure his addiction to alcohol (that little touch led him to have to sign up for AA, since his girlfriend saw these videos), the way the dog would wake him up in the morning by licking his toes, etc., and then next thing he knows the page is starting to become a bigger deal than he hoped, and he’s starting to get too much attention, but he’s also falling in love, so can’t call it off, its gained too much momentum, he had to follow it as it crashed, it was going too fast for him to safely jump out. Local news stations interviewed him, he started to lead a support group that helped owners cope with the loss of pet, he lead community searches where people would comb the woods to find the dog (trying to ignore the bodies that were often dumped in there), the search began to trend on social media, for some reason his story had everything that people wanted to see, and he didn’t know what to do, until he got an idea.

Of all places, the grim local news station was the source of his inspiration for finding a way out. When sitting on the couch with his girlfriend of six months, watching the news, a story came up about a local girl who was kidnapped and help for ransom, how pieces of her body were sent to her parents when they never paid the money, which wasn’t out of a desire to not negotiate with the captors, they were just too poor to be able to collect the sums, because the only reasons they lived in a nice house, wore expensive clothes, drove exotic cars, generally lived the flashy and trendy lifestyle that they did, was because they were willing to drown in debt to do so. When they finally collected the sums, through means that were left vague, allowing the viewers imaginations to run wild, they paid the captors, but never saw their daughter, who turned out to have been dumped in the forest a week before they got the money together, killed shortly after the ransom video had been created. After this story was cut off by a story about the search for Fido, Dan knew that he had to do this, he had to pretend that his dog had been kidnapped. Love was too much for him to lose, so he was willing to do whatever it took to keep that love alive, plus they had been together for six months now, and if he told her the dog was made up, he would never have a chance of staying with her.

So, late night when he was returning from one of those AA meetings that made him feel like the worlds biggest asshole, ready to relive the stress that was crushing his life, Dan drove around the sketchier areas of the city, searching for a golden retriever that could have easily been mistaken for the fictional Fido, and it was very easy because they had been breeding like crazy, so the eventual problem he faced wasn’t finding the dog, but finding one that wasn’t a part of a pack that would try to tear him to pieces if he tried to make off with one of their own. Occasionally he had to slouch down whenever the animal control drive by, surveying their beats, making sure that dog crime wasn’t out of hand in the area, just so they wouldn’t notice him, since he was a public celebrity at this point, and visited pounds twice a week to confirm that none of the golden retrievers they had was his golden retriever. Eventually he did find one on its own, which was wondering around the forest, foaming, possibly rabid, so he had to be very careful about not getting bit, but after lobbing a nearby rock at it, luckily hitting it perfectly in the head, the arc of its flight path landing on the top of the mangy dog’s brain area, knocking the dog out cold, doing serious damage.

After dragging the thing to his trunk, and placing it in, he had no idea what the next step was supposed to be. If he formed a video, like those people had done for the girl, then people may have noticed that the dog was rabid, and that would have been no good, so he, frustratingly, had to carry the thing back into the woods, and dropped it near the remains of a prostitute. He was getting really sick of this town. On the way back to his car, considering on giving up his plan, he saw another golden retriever nearby, which approached him, all alone, and licked his hand. It was a friendly one, probably one of the strays that was lucky enough to be fed by the seniors at the retirement home, making it trusting towards humans. Dan knelt down, let it lick his hands, and then hit it over the head with a rock, hoping that it would be the last time he had to do that.

When the poor dog woke up, it was in a shed somewhere, its mouth ductaped shut, and it had on the slave collars of domesticated animals, which was attached to a leash that was tied around a hook on the wall, causing the dog to be unable to escape. Dan filmed the dog’s fear for ten minutes, but after three he had to leave his shed, the poor thing was too much for him, he couldn’t stand to see it so afraid, to know what he was going to have to do to it. Being a persistent man, blinded by his intense love, he never realized that he could have just said that this dog was Fido, and keep it in his home, show it love, actually receive the companionship that he had made up, and end this nightmare with a happy ending, but he was too tunneled visioned to change his plan.

As he waited, the dog’s worried demeanor burned into his brain, he decided to be productive and began to fill a large bucket with water, patiently waiting for it to fill, hoping that it would take a lifetime. When the bucket was ready, he brought it into the shed, turned off the camera, having gotten all of the footage he would have needed for the ransom video, then placed to bucked down by the adorable animal, grabbed it by the head, then forced the head into the water, crying as the poor creature jerked around, trying to get air, slowly hating it as it dragged on, hating it for not dying, not getting all of this over with, for having approached him in the first place, allowing him to go on with this terrible plan, blaming it for the macabre act that he chose to perform. When it was finally dead, he cried for a couple minutes, then forced himself to go to the kitchen, grabbed the largest knife they had, and a trash bag, the made sure to return to the dog so he could cut off the tail, an ear, and the left paws. After doing so, then stuffing the unfortunate animal into the bag, he put it into the trunk of his car, drove out into the forest, and dropped it further in, next to the river. For a while he couldn’t bear to abandon it, feeling that it would be too much, even after everything he did, because the poor thing didn’t deserve any of this, and it especially didn’t deserve to be dumped in the woods, thrown away like it was some trash, rotting all alone and unloved.

Introspection can have the habit of coming at the worst possible times, of being fashionably late.

Dan was basically dead inside, by the time he found the DVD and the ransom demands that he sent himself, watched to video of the dog look afraid for ten minutes, with his girlfriend, who was freaked out, but believed that Dan was in shock from the footage. The video was played on news channels run constantly, and then his girlfriend found parts of the dogs in the mail box, after he was unable to afford the ransom, but it was all done half heartedly, he couldn’t care anymore. None of it had mattered, he couldn’t care about his girlfriend since he felt that he had paid too much of a price to be with her, and she was just a reminder of what he had done, and so were the constant news footage of his false hostage tapes, or the visits from concerned citizens, the attention he received in the AA group he shouldn’t have been in the first place, all of the people telling him that the people who stole his dogs must have been some really sick fucks, and he was done with it all, but felt as if he couldn’t walk away. Suicide was considered, but he felt like that was too much of an easy out, he didn’t deserve to have it that easy, he didn’t want to take Hitler’s approach to avoiding justice. So, he tweaked the idea, he decided to fake his death, then sneak away to some third world country where he could attempt to make a difference, where nobody would know who he was, where people wouldn’t have given more attention to a runaway dog than grieving parents, plus, he had already faked his life anyways, so what would be hard about faking his death?

During the next week, Dan’s girlfriend dropped him off at their house, where he wanted some alone time before making calls to collect the fund’s for Fido’s ransom. When he walked inside he waved to a neighbor, who thought he was brave for being able to carry on, and he brought a large package, that had been on the doorstep, into the house. The package was large, unmarked, nobody had seen who brought it to the front door, and the usual delivery services hadn’t yet made their rounds. Twenty minutes later, their was an explosion in Dan’s house, and the only things that remained of him were his left hand, and several teeth, the rest was believed to have been disintegrated in the blast. Police are still looking for a motive, however, recently, his captured dog, Fido, was reported to have been found in the woods, and had been dead for quite some time.

The bomb wasn’t too difficult for him to construct, especially since it was mostly made from propane tanks, and a stick of dynamite that he was lucky enough to get his hands on, and even though the bomb was terribly made, looked horrible, it still got the job done. He figured that he should leave something for them to find to identify him, so he removed half of his teeth, and threw in the left hand, which was a bitch to saw off and cauterize, for an added touch. All he had to do to escape was dress in a fashion that wouldn’t draw attention, take a bus for an hour down to the beach, where he found the dock where his old boss kept his yacht, and through a mix of luck and remembered information, he was able to steal it and make off with it towards open waters before the coast guard could do a thing about it. The series of events made him feel great about himself, like his life had gone from sit com to drama to adventure movie, even if he did have trouble steering the ship with one hand, and only a year or two’s worth of experience, from five years back.

Out on the open ocean he finally felt free, he felt like all of his problems were behind him, like he had really died, and the endless ocean was a sort of purgatory for him, or the transition state from death and rebirth. It didn’t mater if he wasn’t fully sure how to get to South America, or how he was supposed to get gas, if the direction he was going in was the right one, or if he was even going in the right direction, what mattered was that he was free. At some moments he pretended like he was a pirate, and would search for a coat hanger or something to attach as a hook, maybe even some rum to give the full effect, treating his escape like a game. However, this game was very short lived, and after two days out in the open ocean, he had to, once again, face the things that he had done, the trouble he caused, and everything that he had done to his girlfriend, especially now that she probably had thought that he was dead. In one drunken moment he had tried to hang himself by his belt, wanting to die for real, but the boat rocked too much and he ended up passing out on the floor.

Days passed with him trying to figure out if he was doing the right thing, if he really had anything to give to the people in need, or if he would just cause more trouble, or if he really could help, but not enough to make up for all of the pain and hurt that he had left behind. When he cried he worried that he was a psychopath, for that whole sadistic event he had constructed, and sometimes he would hit himself on his head with his stump, over and over, furious at himself for letting all of this happen. Why couldn’t he just explain the terrible joke, and just go on with the date? Why couldn’t he have said that the dog was his real dog, instead of doing what he did? Why couldn’t he have, at the very least, just settled for the walk around the neighborhood? At one point, for six hours straight, he sat on the deck, roasting in the sun, eyes closed, hoping that he could fall asleep, wake up back in time, and do it all over again. Sometimes he tried to figure out if there was anybody in the world who was a bigger asshole than he was, and eventually he told himself, “Everyone has an asshole.” It made him laugh for a good while.

Then he, still drunk at this point, kept making shitty jokes, realizing that during this whole process he had completely lost his sense of humor, and was finally able to see, all over again, the bright side to everything. It didn’t really matter if he was an asshole, he decided, or if what he did was awful, because the old him was dead, and nobody really knew, probably, that all of that dog drama was fabricated. The false Fido operation had given a lot of people the story they wanted, had brought entertainment to a country that lived on it, and he liked to imagine that people, after he and the dog died, began to start adopting like crazy, or maybe some legislation was passed, some kind of “Fido Bill” that his girlfriend supported, on television, crying and telling the story of Dan and his dog. In a way, he felt, he could have been thought of as a hero, especially since he had sacrificed his old life in order to bring justice for the animals that the world had discarded. He started to purge from his mind every bad thing that he did, for no good reason, and started to construct a new narrative for himself that could allow him to move on.

In the midst of this dance of denial, the boat’s rocking had started to make him sick, and he moved over to the edge of the boat to release the materials inside of him that refused to be digested. After deciding to stand on the rails and lean far over, worried that the wind could carry some of the vomit back onto the boat, and a wave had rocked the boat just right, sending a drunk Dan over the edge, into the water. When he fell in, he sunk semi quickly, and had trouble seeing where anything was, since his vision had been distorted by bubbles all around him. Picking the direction that felt right, he swam down, thinking that he was swimming up, while beginning to realize that he was running out of air. For a while he was kicked around by the tide, lost in the murky waters, trying to figure out which way was up, desperate to get just one breath, just one small inhale, but as he whipped his head around he couldn’t find any hope, just more water, no up or down, no hope.