That’s just wrong. Really now, who on earth out there in the big wide world has ever set out with the goal in life of bringing themselves to love sick? It’s a thoroughly repugnant substance, almost as if by design. But it’s worth remembering that there are enough masochists out in the wild who like a challenge so I suppose it’s not altogether that incredibly surprising such an odd request might arise.
You could always have a go at considering outside factors adding pressure to various thoughts and feelings. For example, just a random instance plucked altogether out of the air and one you definitely shouldn’t read into whatsoever, if you’re not having the best time at work ever but aren’t quite ballsy enough to pull an unjustified and ever so slightly fake sick day you might yearn for the cleansing fire of a tummy bug to excuse you from the office for a week or so.
Or you might have the stomach to have a bit of a think of the upsides of nausea. Sure, no one in their right mind actually enjoys the experience but just consider what such experience have to teach us. They hotwire terrible associations into our minds and alter our eating habits forever. Thanks to a particular apocalyptic session calling on the porcelain telephone I no longer have to subject myself to the horrors of sweet potato. Lucky me.
Perhaps you’re a fan of formative adversity forging your character into something even more admirable than before. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? So, wracked with shivers and an appalling taste in your mouth you can savour the moment as you’ve emerged from the instance a better human being. In theory. But, do wipe off before coming over to tell me about how much you love sick. After all, dogs eat theirs don’t they? There must be something to it that we haven’t twigged yet.
Love sick – Bob Dylan
