Capitalist Lovers
I wrote this for the New York Times college essay contest. The subject was "modern love." Like old people say about soda, cars, or anything else from "their day," "they just don't make 'em like they used to." I am a commodity, a capitalist lover. On the market’s shelves I fight for a location near eye-level. I try my best to stand out as one worthy of being taken through the check-out line. This market is a free-for-all where the product is also the buyer. Capitalist lovers shop around to make an exchange––me for you. Lovers also spend time on the shelf, waiting. The longer they wait, the lower their price. My value changes each time someone picks me up, compares the costs, and puts me back on the shelf. I am a twenty-two-year-old virgin, but if you ask me if I’ve ever loved, I will say yes. My time in the market has been profitable, though I’ve made love out of different materials than most. Driven towards efficiency the invisible hand...