It’s one of those severely-analytical-for-absolutely-no-purpose posts again. Bear/enjoy/burn it then blind your eyes afterwards, if you’d like. We’re all about optionality.

It might be that I’m growing older and wiser/stupider (optionality, see?) that my principles, if you can even call them that, are shifting. I refrained from using the word “preferences” because I like to believe that my taste is perfect the way it is now. Or the shift might be caused by a number of insecurities interchanging order as they please, but that’s no matter because they’re there, and, well, that’s the Internet charm.

I have always regarded “brains”, “smartness”, “cleverness”, “intelligence”, and/or “wit” as the paramount attraction any member of any sex could possess; something I am at my leisure to claim most of you share with me. (If you don’t, what the hell are you doing reading this?) And it is quite rational at face-value; the attraction to brilliance. It is not vain, it is not superficial, it is considerate, it is what lasts, and it is what you’d like to build a relationship upon, isn’t it? Well, yeeeeaaah, I guess. Could be, I mean, why not? Better clever and measly than dumb and brawny, eh? BAM TECHNICALITY! Let me tell you politely how misguided you are, my little children. It is all going to be subjective and you will relate to it with a mean bucket of ice cream.

If you peel the face-value off -ouch- and try to think, really, really think of how you are attracted to a person, or what “quality” you admire best, you’ll see it’s all in the technicality. That is not to say that cleverness is of insignificance, oh no, not at all. A person’s wits pave the way to a possible attraction; they lure you in and invite you inside just like an overbearing perfume-sample-distributing guy with his tokens of scent. If you’re impressed, you go on in, if not, you hurriedly jog along looking as awkward as a paper penguin on heroin. The trap lies within, way, way, way in. In fact, so way in, you might as well be in the back bins of the retail shop.

See, someone with wit will light a spark, that is granted. It is in the sustainability of that spark that the attraction lies. How much fuel are you willing to add? How much is Clever McCleverpants is willing to add? Is it just formula after formula or observation after observation? Does it really stop there? Is this what you were attracted to? Or did it happen by some great fortune -and hella lotta charm- that McCleverpants happened to be Clever Compassionate Brave Ambitious Kind McCleverpants? Who is lucky enough to find that? And who’s to say you’re not ending up with your expectations on the doorstep of a 158 I.Q. pointer with the liveliness of a cactus?

Okay, okay, what I am trying to de-vague is this: It is not someone’s IQ that captures whatever sanity you have left, it is the interaction you established based on that little tell-tale spark. We are all suckers for Chuck Bartowski in glasses, but only because we know beyond those glasses lie thousands of little remarks that we imagined were spoken for us.



The poetry smudged your lines too much to see the practicality of falling from grace; you have none, and falling isn’t your strongest suit.


The poetry disregarded the organisation, and rendered you a null in the binary system; you’ve escaped the files, and no label fits your longitude.


The poetry concealed the heaven-hell satisfaction with commerciality of words, and your disgrace franchised through every stretch of discourse.


Disclaimer: we, The Poetry, are not responsible for the pity you will receive upon falling from grace. Neither are we responsible for you being too placid that you only belong on Al-Aaraf.

(Note: For those unfamiliar, Al-Aaraf is a hill between heaven and hell).