Chumpy hearts die hard. Armed with the smallest evidence that a freak still cares, a chump will assign great significance to scraps. HE CALLED (to ask that I pick up his dry-cleaning.) HE RETURNED (to get his kayak). SHE WANTS ME (can I babysit tonight?)
Sigh. It’s what makes us chumps — idiotically ascribing decent intent to the indecent. Believing, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, and a swirling muddle of mixed messages, in there someone our freak still LOVES us.
We call this affliction hopium. Symptoms include pointless rounds of unproductive marriage counseling and unicorn sightings.
Today’s Fun Friday challenge is to pose translations of facts versus hopium.
Fact: I bought a self-help book.
Hopium: The cheater is going to read it.
Betty Ford Clinic-grade Hopium: The cheater is going to read it, highlight significant passages, and we’ll stay up all night in our pajamas drinking tea discussing it!
Did anyone out there chase after unicorns? (I was soooOOOO close! I almost grabbed it’s silky rainbow tail!) Did you have a hopium pusher? Therapist, pastor, frenemy? Today we share our bad spackle trips.