The Difference Between Loving Yourself and Being in Love with Yourself

Guess which one makes you look like a jerk?

People have lost it. Gone off the deep end. Given our current situation and the pervasive feeling of doom and gloom, that’s not surprising.

Quarantine has to be hell for those who live alone. Not for everyone, certainly, because there are people who thrive on their own. But for others, the only outlets for comfort and commiseration are Zoom, Skype, and FaceTime. They have no actual living, breathing human to talk with…or fight with.

Given this, there are those individuals who are so needy for attention, any kind of attention, that they will strut their goods on social media for any drooling wanker to comment on.

In part, I understand this need for attention, any kind of attention, but I also feel sorry for these people who believe that showing themselves off to a legion of strangers is going to make them feel better about themselves, and life in general.

It doesn’t work that way, people. Oh, there may be an initial rush from all the pervy backlash, but how long does that last?

I appreciate a beautiful body, male or female, as much as the next person. And maybe more than some. But I don’t understand what people are thinking when they post pictures of themselves in overtly sexual poses on Instagram, Twitter, and even LinkedIn.

Before you think I’m being unfair, please note the word “overtly.”

Close-ups of pursed, pouty lips. Boobs and ass barely covered by scanty lingerie. Package shots. I mean, WTF? Aren’t there other, more “sexually specific” places for this type of “self-love expressionism?”

Of course, there are!

I’ve been astounded by some of the “Love me! Please love me!” crap I’ve seen on even LinkedIn. What an odd site that is. In my opinion, anyway, because I’ve noticed a decided lack of truth-telling there. Honesty, especially of the brutal kind, is not appreciated nor encouraged. I’ve learned that first-hand.

Unfortunately, LinkedIn is a necessary evil for those of us who are actively promoting our work. But for me, that doesn’t involve posting pictures in my undies. Of course, being an older broad, no one would give a damn, anyway.

Side note: There used to be a regular poster on LinkedIn who catered to the foot-fetish crowd. Daily, she offered up images of her shapely bare legs and immaculately-polished tootsies. Seriously. That was her jam, and the dudes ate it up.

She has been noticeably absent for a while now. I hope she’s not sick.

Loving yourself is one thing, and a beautiful thing at that. People who love themselves exude confidence. Others feel good being around them. We can learn from them. Especially those of us whose self-esteem has taken a beating.

With that said, people who are in love with themselves lack that air of confidence and instead, come off as needy and insecure. They give the impression that if they don’t get the attention, they think they deserve, they’ll melt like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.

If only they realized that they won’t.

I always wonder what the desired response to such uber-personal imagery is: Thousands of “likes?” Heart emojis up the ass? Requests for dates? Reinforcement that the poser is “smokin’?”

After that wears off, what’s the next step? Showing fellow Tweeters how to get off with a vibrator?

This is not some Victorian goody-goody talking. The farthest thing from it, in fact. If I were to tell you about my recent “death-grip-hangover,” you’d get this. Or, if you were to read the story that I linked to below, about my odd connection with certain household appliances, most certainly…you’d get this.

In all truth, I love sex. I love reading about it and even writing about it, from time to time, although I don’t get the fans that the “regular” sex writers rake in. I hope that’s not an ageist thing because you know what I’d say to that.

Medium is awash with writers who are in love with themselves. How can you tell? Because all they ever write about is their stats and earnings. Over and over again. It’s all about the numbers, folks, and screw the content.

Are these people “mathletes” or writers?

I understand that many of these writers are trying to be “helpful.” But they seldom are. Spewing the same recycled crap in every piece is the farthest thing from helpful. It’s a major turnoff.

There’s nothing wrong in celebrating victories with the rest of the community, but to those writers who routinely do, I’d advise them to mix it up a little. Maybe tell a friggin’ story once in a while.

Isn’t that what we writers do? Tell stories? Unless I got it wrong. But I can guarantee you that if I were to write about my stats, I’d bore the crap out of you. They’re not that exciting, gang. In fact, I rarely check them.

Think of the enormously-prolific Stephen King: Does he write about his successes or does he just create amazing storylines and characters?

The reprehensible human being known as the President of the United States is in love with himself. In his sick, twisted mind, he can do no wrong. If he wasn’t responsible for the death of thousands of our countrymen and women, I might find it in my heart to feel pity for him.

But that will never happen. And eventually, if there is any kind of justice in this life, he will get his. Hopefully, sooner than later because we’re running out of time.

Maybe one of these days, he’ll keel over in the middle of a tweet.

Which brings me to this: There’s no denying that social media is fertile territory for people who genuinely have something to say, as well as for those who’d rather show themselves off. And that’s not going to change anytime soon, so I should just shut the hell up.

But one last thing: There has to be some middle ground, right?

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

As always, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, you might like the other stories, below.

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