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“Oh god, why does this shit always happen to me?” Ian shouted at the top of his lungs. With his head in the toilet and the music blaring in the bar area, no one heard his frustrated outburst. Ian often tried to find solutions to life’s greatest questions at the bottom of an empty bottle. Tonight was no exception.

Finding out that Stacy, his now ex-girlfriend, cheated on him with some co-worker sent him on one of his binges. After losing count of how many shots he’d taken and beers he’d pounded down, Ian found himself praying to the porcelain god once again.

With a mighty heave, the contents of his stomach splashed into the unsavory hodgepodge of human waste that only a broken toilet at a hole-in-the-wall bar could amass.

Feeling like he was about to blackout, Ian lifted himself from the floor, and as he tried to open the door to the stall, his eyes went to the graffiti written on the bathroom door:

Don’t worry. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.

Like magic, he suddenly didn’t care about Stacy cheating on him anymore. She wasn’t worth a damn if she would hurt him like this. Ian felt better. Way better, in fact.

It wouldn’t last.

A week later, Ian was back at the bar again. This time, he was drinking away the shame of his misfortunes with the opposite sex. No one on Tinder felt a spark for him. Plenty of Fish had plenty of nothing. eHarmony offered no relief. Fearing his online profile was the reason for his terrible luck, he tried his luck with the young ladies at the office.

Unfortunately, this resulted in getting fired for sexual harassment complaints filed against him. Since seeing that graffiti on the wall, Ian felt brave, empowered, and like he could land any woman he wanted.

“Oh god, why does this shit happen to me?” Ian cried. Yet again, he was slumped over the lip of the clogged toilet, ready to evacuate his stomach. He was certain his vomit from the previous week was still floating there.

After another deposit of stomach acid and partially digested pizza, Ian saw the graffiti from the previous week was crossed out and replaced with:

Choose a job you love. You’ll never work another day in your life.

As he read those words, his shame magically washed away. He could do better. Much better, in fact.

Once more, it wouldn’t last.

Two weeks later, Ian was back at the bar again. He couldn’t find a job he loved and the rent was past due.

Of course, the cycle repeats.

“Oh god, why does this shit happen to me?” Ian questioned, and then vomited again. After wiping off the splashes of toilet water on his face, he tried to avoid reading the graffiti again, but couldn’t help himself.

The graffiti was crossed off once more and replaced with:

Don’t worry. It will all be over soon

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