Oscar Wilde: "When I Advocated
Self-Love, I Meant for Me, Not You"

As you already know, (if you’re not a complete dolt) I once said, “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong love affair.” Now, as I look around this mixed up civilization, I cannot help but worry that too many people have internalized by comment as a philosophy on life. But the truth is I don’t care if you love yourselves; I want you to love me. And here’s why:

First, who the hell are you? I wrote “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” damn it. You are just a schmuck from Newark. You get up late and seldom bathe. You eat poorly and communicate through a series of grunts and whines. You have not yet discovered fire. You say PIN number and ATM machine. You are insufferable. If you know what’s good for you, you will allocate some energy toward loving someone who deserves it.

 Second, I’m famous. My novels and plays have delighted readers for a hundred years. My quotable quotes are plastered on public buildings, refrigerators, websites, and various brothels in the greater Newark area. My work has been commercialized, novelized, anthologized, deconstructed, and adapted for the big screen. You, conversely, have accomplished nothing. You watch TV and eat take-out. You download low-quality porn. (I’m watching you in your living room through a pair of binoculars.)

 Third, I’m fabulous. In 1882 I traveled to America for the first time and provided limitless entertainment to the colonists. They thought of me as something of sissy, but they seemed entertained by my dandy boy ways. Yes, I put the purple in the purple mountains majesty, and I put the fruit in the fruited plain. In 1895, I was tried and found guilty of sodomy, rapidly becoming one of history’s most famous homosexuals. I embraced the love that dared not speak its name, and suffered incarceration for my predilections.

 I winked at my successes and laughed at adversity. So how about you spend a little less time loving yourself and a bit more time adoring someone who deserves it? Like me.