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Have I Been Looking for Love in all the Wrong Shitposting Groups?

Since the dawn of time, humans have asked one question. Wait, ok two questions. One — how do I get food? And, two — how the heck do I get a mate? Yes, gone are the simple days of cavemen mating rituals. A partner can no longer be won by showy pelt displays and large wheat gatherings, or even super-large wheat gatherings, now that I think about it.

These days, as far as I can determine, men are only impressed by one thing — the dankest of content.

For years I have worked to perfect my meme knowledge, each one steeped in no less than three layers of irony. An endless spiral of referential content, like a snake eating its own tail, or like a never ending GIF of Krumping Marge.

I kept seeing my peers pairing off. Without fail, one of my fellow shitposters would make a poorly Photoshopped meme of George Costanza with just the right bottom text, and all of a sudden, potential suitors were sliding into her DM’s left and right. One Redditor is now engaged to a strong, healthy human male thanks solely to a surprised Pikachu meme.

Can you imagine being impressed by a surprised Pikachu? I wish those two simpletons the best in their happy, basic marriage, truly. Hope you enjoy having great sex after sharing outdated “The floor is lava” memes with each other.

The question remains however: why have I failed to find love in shitposting? Are my takes not timely enough? Are my jokes not inside enough? I thought my Jeffrey Epstein/Woman Yelling at Cat mashup would have me positively swimming in dick! And yet here I remain, unpartnered, alone, with no future of tiny shitposter children to leave my vast harddrive collection to.

Perhaps I’ve been going about my quest for love all wrong. Maybe this isn’t about Kanye or Pink Floyd or even Mr. Show. Maybe this is about me. How can anyone love my obscure Aurora Borealis memes when I don’t even love myself? It might be time set down the phone, pick up a mirror and do some reflecting on the bottom text of my life.

I must first master trolling myself. Then, and only then, will a lover truly be able to shitpost my heart.