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Who do you think you are, anyway?...

You want love, don't you?

Come on. Admit it. You need it. You want it. You'd trade your pogs for it.

But love doesn't come easy, does it? When your mamma was dressing you for school and you asked about love, she smacked you hard in the face, didn't she? Because she'd been hurt. We've all been hurt. And not just by our mammas.

So how do you find love? Specifically how do you find love, because as easy as it is for everyone else, you seem to be a problem case. What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway? Jeez! Must you drive every person you date away?

Even if you're married, as unlikely as that seems to everyone who grew up with you, nobody knows what could happen. Your spouse could run away. And then die. Or die as they're running away. They could run away with the express purpose of dying as far away from you as they can get.

And then you'll be alone. Like the rest of your pathetic friends that you and your spouse used to mock while lying in those soft flannel sheets together or in between ordering beige furniture from the Pottery Barn catalog.

Love is tough. Love is a great big nasty beast that spits venom on your face and then sucks it up just like Jeff Goldblum in that one movie. Love has no problem with crippling you. Love is a 400-pound linebacker that wants to crush your little spine like a dandelion on the freeway. You better recognize.

So how do you find love in this crazy, mixed-up world? Who's hoarding all that love stuff? Do they direct-mail? Can a brother get a table dance with that love?

The answers to all these questions, and like maybe two or three others, will be revealed over the course of Terribly Happy's Guide to Love.

The first of these is:

Right. Now: Love is difficult, but it's even more difficult if you're out there, sticking your privates in people's faces without any real idea of what you have to offer or even who you are.

Self examination is an often painful, but necessary procedure. Think of it as the required rectal exam on the way to love.

Let's begin.

When staking out for love, it's important to ask yourself these vital questions:

Who am I?

How did I get here?

Do I need to take a cab back to get where I started?

What is this shit in my belly button? Lint? Dirt? A bug of some sort?

Is love expensive? Can I use my debit card?

Will this be on the test?


Important questions, yes. But if you can't even get past that first question, you're going to be screwed in the love department, and not in the pleasing way. So let's start with, "Who am I?"

Now don't be cute with this one. The answer is not, "Colby from The Australian Outback." You dickweed.


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Here lie a bunch of dead people. Oh, wait. My mistake. This just represents all your hopes and dreams.

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