Every night before I go to bed I like to make sure my whole outfit—shirt, pants, jacket, tie, socks—is all laid out for me in the morning. Last night, I was trying to get my clothes together when I noticed my navy blue tie was missing. I thought to myself, “Well, it must be in my closet somewhere; I’ll probably run across it by the time I head out for work in the morning.” But no, I still can’t find my navy blue tie anywhere.
I understand that none of this really matters to you. After all, it isn’t your tie that’s missing, and you obviously have no vested interest in me finding my tie. Why would you? You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But here’s the thing: My tie is important to me. It’s my good navy blue tie. I like it. I have a collection of ties, and out of all of them, I picked my navy blue one. Not being able to wear the tie I want to wear when I want to wear it bothers me, and that’s why I am writing this.
Now, should any of this matter to you? Absolutely not. I don’t expect it to. Is the fact that my tie is maybe tucked away in the back of a drawer somewhere or maybe at the cleaners something you should concern yourself with? No. But am I in some way wrong or out of line or overreacting because I can’t find my navy blue tie? I don’t think so. Look, my wife gave me this tie. It looks good on me, and to be perfectly honest, I will be pretty upset if I can’t find it. What I’m saying is: 1) I’m allowed to be frustrated about potentially losing my favorite tie, so don’t sit there and trivialize my situation or make me feel like I’m some weirdo just because I’m upset about a necktie, okay? And 2) I know this isn’t your problem. I never said it was your problem. If you stopped reading this because you said to yourself, “This guy’s tie has nothing to do with my life,” I wouldn’t be offended. That’s your decision.
I just want to find my tie. That’s what’s important to me. And I kind of don’t really what care what is or isn’t important to you right now.
Sure, if I put on another tie and left for work, I would probably, throughout the course of the day, forget about the navy blue tie altogether. Yes. Fine. Point for you, I guess. But that’s not where my head is at right now. Right now I’m in lost-tie mode and dealing with everything that goes along with that—the worry, the rushing, the anger. It’s going to take me a while to get out of lost-tie mode. You’re not in lost-tie mode, so you’re coming at this with a completely different perspective. And, look, I’m not asking you get into lost-tie mode. Is anyone here asking you get into lost-tie mode with me? No! Why would you? I understand it would be silly for you to get into lost-tie mode, especially if you haven’t lost your navy blue tie.
Because, look, no one is forcing you to read this editorial piece, okay? And I’m certainly not going to write about something else that you’re interested in simply because you’re not interested in my navy blue tie. Because, frankly, I am interested in my navy blue tie—I am very interested in my navy blue tie, in fact, and its whereabouts—and so that’s exactly what I’m going to write about and you can either read what I have to say about it or you can walk away. To be honest, I don’t really give a shit. This is about me and my needs.
And I don’t want to hear any “Hey, Tim, it’s just a tie. Relax.” I mean, fuck you, man. Don’t tell me to relax. If you’re trying to calm me down that’s the last fucking thing I want to hear. In my opinion, saying “It’s just a tie, why are you writing a whole editorial piece about it?” is a pretty narrow-minded position because you’re not taking into account a whole range of common human emotions that a person might be experiencing in this moment, including but not limited to how much one might be disappointed if one had been really looking forward to wearing that navy fucking blue tie. Also, maybe I have important meetings and appointments on my schedule and, because of that, I felt like I should wear my best tie. See? You don’t know me. So don’t pretend to.
Did it ever occur to you that I feel confident when I wear this tie? That this tie makes me feel good? Is that strange to you? Am I some materialistic jerk to you, Gandhi, because I really like my tie?
Who the fuck asked you, anyway?
Look, I have been above board with you this whole time, so I’m going to lay all my cards on the table right now: I have other ties. In fact, I actually have another navy blue tie. It’s not as good, it doesn’t have paisleys on it, I don’t wear it that often because I don’t like it as much, and right now I think it’s a piece of shit. But yeah, it would probably look fine with my suit. However, what I take issue with is the notion that not being able to find my navy blue tie is a small or trifling matter and that I have somehow blown this whole issue out of proportion. Screw that. I can react any way I please to the loss of my navy blue tie, okay? That is my right, just like it is your right to stop paying attention to me if you decide that the navy blue tie thing isn’t important to you. Because guess what? I DON’T CARE IF IT ISN’T IMPORTANT TO YOU. This isn’t about you, asshole. It’s about me and what I’m going through here with my tie.
If all you wanted was to find your navy blue tie—if all that mattered to you in the world right now was wearing your best necktie for your big day at work, don’t tell me you’d be cool about losing it. Don’t sit there, reading this editorial, and judging me because you—from your perfect, cushy little vantage point of not being the person whose navy blue tie is missing—thinks that this is “no big deal.” Because if this were happening to you, you would think was a big deal. You’d think it was a big fucking deal. And FUCK YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY for not even trying to recognize that.
I hate you.
My tie is in my suitcase from the Orlando trip.