It’s that time again. Past couple of years I didn’t mark the passing of this particular day, but I feel like it this year as it stings more than usual.
Love is just an optimization problem. Women (or indeed, any group that is looking for good material from another group) are looking for a global maximum. The chances of finding such a thing is hopelessly low, since they themselves are unlikely to be the global maximum for the other person, and that’s if they ever actually meet this person at all. So we seek global maximums, but due to geography and such, we settle for local maximums. I don’t remember much about this kind of math, but I think it bodes very badly for me being a global minimum.
Happy ugly-fat-person shame day to us all.