Doomscrolling (noun) /ˈduːmˌskrəʊlɪŋ/
The act of compulsively scrolling through endless bad news, often late at night, long after it’s useful, healthy, or even mildly rational. Symptoms may include dry eyes, existential dread, and an inability to make future plans.
-----------------
You’re not panicking—you’re just staying informed, right? One swipe closer to the end of civilization. A war here, a collapsing currency there, a celebrity divorce that somehow feels personal. You look up and it’s dark outside. You’ve eaten too much cheese. The screen is greasy and covered in fingerprints. Hope? Logged off hours ago.On days like this, you don’t buy underwear. You don’t buy anything.
“Maybe there’s one that’s cheaper… softer… sexier… more ethical…”
What’s the point of making responsible purchases when the oceans are boiling and someone just used the phrase “economic bloodbath” and “nuclear deterrent” in the same sentence without a hint of irony?
And then, for a moment, the world exhales. The headlines soften. The coffee tastes like coffee again. And that’s when you find yourself doing something almost as quietly soul-crushing as reading the news: Shopping for underwear online. Ah, yes. A different flavor of doom. Softer. Slower. But just as paralyzing.
Let’s call it what it is: Doomscrolling 2.0 – The Underwear Edition.
A modern feedback loop in which you browse all 30,000 underwear brands online in the faint hope that one perfect pair will solve everything—from lower back pain to failed relationships.
Each brand claims to be “the best in the world.” Some seem to have copy-pasted their slogans from one another. This one looks promising, but could you get something similar… cheaper? That one had a discount code… but no reviews. This one has reviews… but they read like they were written by one guy and his AI. That brand might be decent—except why are they also selling boat motors?
"I know this madness. Intimately."
And what currency is this? By 3 a.m., you’re not even pretending it’s about underwear anymore. But you keep scrolling. Just in case. I know this madness. Intimately.
There’s even a kind of mathematical poetry to it: 1 minute per brand × 30,000 brands = 500 hours = 21 straight days of continuous browsing. No breaks. No joy. Just me, a glowing screen, and that voice in my head hissing: “Maybe there’s one that’s cheaper… softer… sexier… more ethical…”
What you’re experiencing is FOBO—the Fear of a Better Option. And FOBO doesn’t help you decide. It helps you avoid deciding.
It’s paralysis, disguised as good judgment. And let’s be honest: if your underwear has led you to an existential spiral, maybe it’s time to reevaluate.
I’ve been there. I’ve waded through fabric descriptions, sustainability manifestos, and five-star reviews written by people named “TopDad93,” all of whom seem suspiciously enthusiastic—especially the one who ends his review with, “This device really elevated my summer BBQ experience. Highly recommended!”
But no more whimpering into the algorithm. You can stop now. Close the tabs. You’re alive. The world still exists (for now). Your butt deserves better. There’s plenty you might regret in life. Great underwear isn’t one of them.
Buy once. Buy right.
Then go kiss someone you love. Or scream into a fjord. Or both.
Because better days will come.
And when they do, you’ll want to be properly dressed for them.
Leave a comment
All comments are moderated before being published.