I own a shirt that says “Love is hell.”
I didn’t buy it. It appeared in a free shirt pile.
The saying fits perfectly.
Most of this statement is being sick of this constant shopping for your significant other.
Sometimes I feel like dating is a lot like shopping at Costco.
You can’t buy just one banana, it comes with 20 others.
When it rains, it fucking pours.
There are so many free samples. But there’s no way in hell your buying the fried jalapeños on aisle 7.
They slid into your Instagram DM’s with a tongue emoji and have 10 followers.
The shrimp on aisle 4 taste good. But they’re a little fruity for your taste. The mango chutney they’re prepared with seems to contrast the charred taste you want in shrimp.
You want that shrimp to look at you and you immediately want to rip it’s shell off.
So you go to aisle 5 and there you have it, the aisle has savory shrimp. But they’re a little chewy. They’ve definitely been there for a while, give or take a couple years. They’re just hard, and they stay hard for way, way, too long.
But they have a time-share in a prime location in the aisle, a flat screen TV, and an in-home jacuzzi.
But then on aisle 6, there is the chicken soup. Your heart warms because you love your grandma’s chicken soup. It’s like receiving a warm hug. It’s comfortable and flavorful.
You try out this sample of chicken soup for 2 months until you realize it’s bland.
Your grandma did like him. But she begins to add a nice, Jewish matzah ball to the broth and sets you up with a yenta.
On aisle 7, we see the sushi. Sushi is our favorite food, California’s state dish, apparently it is from Japan. Who knows.
Costco sushi is usually dangerous territory. It’s different, our mother wouldn’t approve and our grandmother would disown us.
But we dive in anyway and try it. We last for about 3 months until we realize that our stomach is unsettled.
This spicy tuna roll is swimming the wrong way and not answering our text messages.
Then aisle 8 comes along and there are the chicken potstickers. They’re tasty and perfect if you add the right amount of Siracha. You buy the potstickers in bulk, for around a year. Dim sum becomes dull.
Even though they are repetitive, they mostly begin and end in missionary, you prefer them over the shrimp dumplings in the back of your freezer.
But you eat the chicken potstickers so often they start to hurt your stomach and have to dump him at a Starbucks on a Wednesday.
You go back to Costco and add the larger spicy pork dumplings to your cart.
The wontons come stuffed into the package front to back, willing to join the mile high club, and extra dipping sauce.
Costco is not only a grocery store, but a lifetime of opportunities. That’s the reason why it’s so fucking hard to get a Costco card.