#SELFIE

#iLUV listening to the Chainsmokers adaptation of the SELFIE. Is the ‘Self’ a noun or an adjective?…and is it a possessive pronoun or possessive adjective?…than there is the ‘ie’…the diminutive ‘i’ is masculine and ‘y’ feminine further confusing the Selfiy. One thing that Etymologists, Linguists and English language enthusiasts agree, is that the Selfiy is a possession and implies an intimate relationship, in this case with the Self.

Two days ago I met up with a Selfiy. A 46 year old, educated, intelligent, career minded, beautiful and a newly separated single mother of one. The last time I had seen this dear soul was exactly one year and three months ago. I was struck then at this burgeoning Selfiy in the making but although I felt confronted with this new image of my friend, ala Selfiy — I realised I didn't really understand the escapism that maketh Selfiys. One year and three months is a long time in my books, but I was immediately transported back, as déjà vu of my then Selfiy friend metamorphosed with this current but now premier-class Selfiy who sparked up with “This is a year of adventure for me. I am on Tinder and OMG the men are a flocking abound.”

Cringe-worthy conversation but I figuratively took a step back, internally took a deep breath, ‘smile, I internally say’ and then I sit and listen…as the conversation and the constant wandering eyes at anything with male organs was being endured (I would say balls but that would be a something spherical or ovoid and since it was lunch-time…), I was inwardly groaning at my misfortune. Then I started thinking, (yes…I removed belief and started thinking), the Selfiy is the quintessential suicide attempt. All I see is a beautiful, educated, great with money, great mother, loyal friend — my friend…but her Self image needs/needed constant affirming and it felt affirming not by me or loved ones…affirming from men — strange men, any man — with chips on the side please.

I have reached this point and the topic of Selfiys has dried up. All I know is this, I love my friend — Selfiy et al. May I proceed with selfless intentions to hopefully witness a genuine, all male, great partner that will complete my friend the Selfiy — than again, who needs a man when we’ve got Monsieur Tremoussoir. She just might surprise herself.

As ironic as the topic of Selfiy is, I find that writing this may just be my form of #SELFIE.

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