My capacity for romantic attachment is so wanton that I could probably fall in love with a clever computer program or an unusually intelligent chimp, although realistically such affairs would only be sustainable as open relationships. This is surprising given my typically scornful attitude toward people in general. Aloof but grasping, clingy but contemptuous: these jarring combinations of qualities, undesirable individually and especially galling when brought together, do not immediately suggest an appealing adult personality. Yet somehow I pull it off, to the extent that I have any relationships at all. The separately problematic components of my character coalesce into an overachieving team of plucky upstarts that makes an improbable annual run to the emotional playoffs, the whole greater than the sum of its parts, offering misleading credibility to the hopes of isolated grumps everywhere that sullen loners can somehow succeed at normal human activities. Sorry you guys, no lesson to be learned here, I make it work with short life-depleting bursts of baffling charisma, artful misdirection, and a little desperate papier-mache. Honestly I don't know how I keep fooling people. What chumps. I used to think they'd catch on and I'd be revealed as some kind of fraud or sham, the perpetrator of a crime against authenticity, but now I'm starting to think this might never happen, that maybe I can carry on this ludicrous charade indefinitely, which to my way of thinking is functionally equivalent to soaring self-acceptance. Now that's psychology.