lukewarm

I was watching that Friends episode where it is revealed that Chandler hates dogs (all dogs, even puppies), and thinking how sad it is to be a persecuted minority. Probably not quite as sad as actually being a persecuted minority (see: non-Aryan), but frustrating nonetheless to explain over and over that there is no traumatic past, just hate, irritation, or just indifference.

It happens to everyone. I know people who don’t like chocolate. Reading. San Francisco. All universally likable things! And it does shock me, the way it must shock people to know that I don’t like dogs, hugs, and phones. God, I hate phones.

But the point being that nothing and nobody is universally adored. I happen to be extremely adorable (and modest), but in college, for the very first time, I learned that someone didn’t like me! Which was shocking because, you know, everyone likes me. That’s how they stay on the payroll. But it turns out this girl disliked me because I smiled too much. This irks me to this day, partly because this is the one and only known case of someone actively disliking me (as opposed to indifference), and partly because I am a petty and spiteful person. But also memorable because I learned that you will never be universally liked. And with this knowledge comes great freedom. Freedom to be crabby and care less about maintaining superficial friendships. Freedom to only smile when you feel like it. Which luckily is still most of the time. Because once you stop trying to be vanilla for everyone, you can be mocha almond fudge for the people who really appreciate it.  And be content knowing that nothing is universally liked.

Oh, except for burritos. Everybody loves a burrito.