The Ill-fated Search for Myself

This evening, for no apparent reason, I decided to enter my surname into a search engine to see what it would return.

I am not entirely certain as to what led me to do this, but I would venture that there is a fairly strong chance that you have either done exactly the same yourself already, or that you will think that I must be a particularly sad case in having done this, only to then go and do it yourself.

What was I hoping for? This I cannot answer, but I can say that even though I was not aware of having any particular expectations, I know that what I did find fell way below the expectations I was not consciously aware that I even had. It was as if, unconsciously, I had thought that the returns would somehow, in some strange and unfathomable way, perhaps serve to define who precisely I actually am – and I do appreciate that this in itself sounds at best bizarre, and at worst wholly ridiculous.

And, if you are thinking along those lines, I have some good news for you as, if I were to truly define myself by search results emanating from a search term that happens to be my surname, then I have tonight discovered that I am, for want of a better word, a condom.

The saving grace here, if there must be one – and for me, in light of this shocking revelation, I do indeed feel there must be – is that, following further research, it would appear that I am a condom whose users are, in the main, rather complimentary towards.

“This has got to be the best condom yet, we love it!!!” writes one satisfied user on one of the many sites offering Mint Tingles.

Unfortunately, just at the point where I was winning the battle to successfully convince myself that things were not that bad after all – a condom I may be, but a damned good one – I then made the silly mistake of clicking another of the returned search results, only to find that I come in the form of a lubricant as well.

At this point I thought it best to cut my losses.

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