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We Need To Talk About Harry

In personal news: It can be expensive to be alone.

Case in point: I recently got car insurance because I finally have a car. There are a bunch of discounts a person can have, most importantly the one for being married.

Rude! I am a professional who is definitely not not married because of mental illness or how often I text while driving. Why on Earth should it affect my price?

Life is expensive y'all. I was living in a hovel in Washington Heights and I didn't want to take any of my dishes with me as I moved out to the suburbs so I naturally spent hundreds and maybe thousands of dollars purchasing a whole new kitchen.

Of course if I was getting married it would have been all of you buying me that kitchen but alas. Singles are not supposed to eat outside of a salted ice cube twice a day so I had to lay out the cash myself.

I also splurged on a reading chair, queen bed, fancy couch, and rumba. At this rate when I do get married my entire registry is going to be cash.


My floors are level now. I have a parking spot and a gym in my building. I have central heating and air and a washer dryer. I feel like Annie "I think I'm gonna like it here."

So, hopefully, we can get back to the fun stuff: eviscerating blog posts.

You know those people who have been very frum their entire lives and then they leave the fold and they literally cannot shut up about sex or drugs or porn because they've never had an inappropriate adult conversation in their lives?

That's Prince Harry and details. And Prince Harry and details about his genitals.

Because he's only spoken in interviews (and to his tight knit group whose names or characteristics he mentions zero times because this is only about Harry) he has no idea how to tell a story without including every single detail.

A regular person: I went to the grocery store and got bananas.

Prince Harry: I woke up and realized there were no bananas left. William has a banana tree growing in his apartment but I don't because I'm just the spare. I bet Camilla snuck into my apartment and ate my bananas because she hates me. I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, combed my hair which is red. It's red because of my mother's genes, not because my dad is James Hewitt. I miss my mom. If I see a paparazzi I think I'll strangle them to death and then have sex with their corpse. Serves them right for what they did to Mummy. As I thought about my mum my penis began to rise slightly. My penis is usually the main focus of my day and it hated that I was thinking about someone other than me, even if it was my mother who just happened to be hot. I walked out of my apartment and made a left into the parking lot. Once in the car, I started the car and thought "Will I ever get married?" I just wanted to share my penis with someone who would love it as much as I do. I took two rights out of the super secret secure exit that no one except me and now all of you know about. I left my car in drive on the curb because I clearly am missing a few screws. When I picked out a banana I thought about how my penis is circumcised. I wonder if Granny, who happens to be the Queen of England, had been there when they did it and if she appreciated how awesome my penis was. Once I had picked out the bananas I went to pay and realized I didn't have the .73 I needed to buy the bananas because i don't actually know what money looks like. So, I used my credit card-which is when I look deep in the cashier's eyes and say "I'm Prince Harry" and they tell me I can just take whatever. It's very hard to be me. I'm sad all of the time.

You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. The whole book is how bad he feels for himself. And how obsessed he is with his genitals.

When Meghan appears everything seems so perfect and like they just get each other.

I suspect they do, because Meghan did lots and lots of homework. Then, once she has him hooked, she starts crying and threatening to hurt herself unless he finds a way to make her happy. So now he's codependent on 'taking care' of her because he's wanted to step in and defend a woman ever since his mother died etc etc etc.

He has absolutely no awareness of his privilege at all. He has nothing nice to say about any family members and and yet holds that he is the innocent and they are all at fault.

It's one of these holes we can work ourselves into. I worked myself into one in Washington Heights.

I am stuck in this situation and I cannot do anything about it and this is the way it must be so all I can do is complain.

But I moved to the suburbs and discovered that though I am unmarried I don't have to stay in the main two places for singles. There are singles everywhere and I could find something that works for me.

I know plenty of people who have worked themselves into Prince Harry like holes where the world is at fault for our situations. The world sucks and we all have issues. But we can also find next steps if we bother to look up from our genitals for five entire seconds.

I do not want to groom myself as bait for some manipulator to "save" or have me "save" them.

We don't need saving. We just need to live.

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