The Settler and the Reacher

One of my homies for life, Tiny (that's her prison name) and I were talking about this concept today. The idea made popular by a lovable yet highly made fun of sitcom by some of my other homies for life who think they're cooler than me (hey Evan): How I Met Your Mother. In this particular episode, Marshall comes to the life shattering conclusion that he is indeed the Reacher in his marriage with his wife Lily. Lily admits to being the Settler, backed by numerous other testimonies from the other cast members.

As an aside, this show brought the outrageously talented Neil Patrick Harris back to life, and I don't care if you think it's pedestrian, or if your stance is that the 'LAUGH TRACK IS THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU LEMMINGS FIND IT HUMOROUS', because if you're the kind of person who un-makes friends based on TV shows, I'd like to direct you to THIS blog.

I digress. The Settler settles. Never worries about their partner being unfaithful, flirtatious, straying, registering for naked LARP tournaments, etc. The Reacher reaches. The sun may not necessarily rise and set on their Settler partner but there's a likelihood that they worry more about the things that the Settler doesn't bother to consider. The Reacher counts themselves the fortunate one and brushes the Settler's hair a hundred times before bed every night.

Let me take a moment to underline the degree to which this mentality is fucked up. Blogger won't let me underline it, so we're just gonna stick with bold. Curses.

Anybody who manages to find anybody else who'll put up with their shit should count themselves lucky. If your partner's okay with your dirty scratchy play-off beard and the fact that you air out your hockey equipment in the living room, you're lucky. If the person you share your life with is somehow okay with how much money and time you spend getting tiny Dachshunds painted on your nails in a salon/spa, count thyself extremely fortunate. We are all of us crazy, and the people who love us should neither settle nor reach. We all fall under Fucking Lucky.

Don't kid yourself if you 'know' you're a Settler and that you don't have any weirdness going on.

You're batshit. I promise.