For Bae

I first encountered “bae” on Facebook. My friend – a brilliant Economics graduate – was posting lovely poetic things about his bae and to his bae. It sounded like the most mysterious and romantic metaphor. Ah yes, to have a bae, to have someone think of you as bae. It must be a sign that life has meaning.

Soon all my social media contacts were flooding me with bae. “My bae” was the top caption for photos that month. What the hell was this bae? What did it really mean? Was I not cool because I wasn’t a bae? Did I need a bae? It was a terrible time for me. I was so lost in this business of bae.

But you see, my brain is a strange place. Things like bae don’t survive for long in there. I soon forgot all about bae until Stefan suggested I watch Youtube to get with it. Apparently my knowledge of pop culture sucks. I have no idea why people [Push-pa in particular] think so.

And so it began again, my affair with the mysterious bae. I eventually gave up and asked Stefan what bae meant. I couldn’t believe his answer. How could this mystical bae mean only “baby”? Well, I didn’t believe Stefan. He likes to have fun at my expense sometimes.

I did the next best thing. I googled bae (actually I accidentally Binged bae and I’m so ashamed. Who the hell Bings anything?). Life has never been the same.

Sooo “my bae” really means “my poop” or “my shit”


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