You know without looking this one comes from The Guardian: Why don’t people like me? You asked Google – here’s the answer
The article was written by Anouchka Grose and let's discover the gender.
You guessed it:
Anouchka Grose is a psychoanalyst and author of No More Silly Love Songs, a realist's guide to romance (Portobello, 2010)
- Guardian
The tedious tragedy of adult life is that we’re left with all the weird, desperate traces of our early quest for likability. The infantile layers get overlaid with more tricky stuff. We end up with what’s known as a personality. Perhaps quietness was valued in our family. Or self-reliance. Or maybe we joked all the time to get smiles out of our depressive mothers. We became specialists at surviving our own childhoods. But, like many experts, we find that our skills fall short of what’s needed in the wider world. Not that they were exactly foolproof at home either.
- Guardian
Woohoo, full-tilt Doctor Spock.
Ed: adult life is a tedious tragedy?
Cry me a fuckin' river, huh? (larfs)
If we’re at all decent, we’re doomed to read other people constantly, trying to work out what they want. But it’s impossible to pitch ourselves just right in relation to it. On the bright side, if you’re concerned enough about people liking you to be reading this, at least you’re probably not a sociopath. I like you!
- Guardian
I'm not buying your boring book and I don't give a fuck if you like me. Welcome to sociopathy.
We know what the words mean as well and sociopathy is not as simple as the way you used it. Have a ball with self-adoration, you passively insipid wimp.
I found my inner child ... and I murdered the motherfucker. How do you like sociopathy so far?
Ed: is this an example of assholes who ask questions just to answer for themselves?
Classic
The article was written by Anouchka Grose and let's discover the gender.
You guessed it:
Anouchka Grose is a psychoanalyst and author of No More Silly Love Songs, a realist's guide to romance (Portobello, 2010)
- Guardian
The tedious tragedy of adult life is that we’re left with all the weird, desperate traces of our early quest for likability. The infantile layers get overlaid with more tricky stuff. We end up with what’s known as a personality. Perhaps quietness was valued in our family. Or self-reliance. Or maybe we joked all the time to get smiles out of our depressive mothers. We became specialists at surviving our own childhoods. But, like many experts, we find that our skills fall short of what’s needed in the wider world. Not that they were exactly foolproof at home either.
- Guardian
Woohoo, full-tilt Doctor Spock.
Ed: adult life is a tedious tragedy?
Cry me a fuckin' river, huh? (larfs)
If we’re at all decent, we’re doomed to read other people constantly, trying to work out what they want. But it’s impossible to pitch ourselves just right in relation to it. On the bright side, if you’re concerned enough about people liking you to be reading this, at least you’re probably not a sociopath. I like you!
- Guardian
I'm not buying your boring book and I don't give a fuck if you like me. Welcome to sociopathy.
We know what the words mean as well and sociopathy is not as simple as the way you used it. Have a ball with self-adoration, you passively insipid wimp.
I found my inner child ... and I murdered the motherfucker. How do you like sociopathy so far?
Ed: is this an example of assholes who ask questions just to answer for themselves?
Classic
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