Love hurts and therapy is a waste of time. At least that’s the philosophy that led Brett McGinn to start Love Fucking Sucks, a new business offering relationship advice to heart-broken singles.
“Some people are above getting a therapist and I feel like they’re annoying the shit out of all of their friends talking about their love lives,” says McGinn, a 26-year-old Ohio native who now lives in Los Angeles. “They need a shoulder to lean on, so to speak, and that’s what I want to be: I want to be a shoulder to lean on.”
The way McGinn sees it, he’s been acting as a metaphorical shoulder for years — when everyone else was out partying at Ohio University, he remembers sitting with friends in the bathroom coaching them through relationship troubles — so he figured why not start getting paid for it?
Granted, the self-described hopeless romantic is not a licensed therapist. Far from it, he has no degrees in sociology or psychology (he majored in communications and now works in the music industry). Oh, and he also hasn’t been in a relationship since high school. “Which is probably not what you want to hear about someone trying to consult you,” he readily admits, but what he can offer to his handful of clients is an unbiased, neutral opinion and a sympathetic ear (or a shoulder, for that matter).
And despite his own not-so-successful love life — “I am fucking terrible at following my own advice,” he says — he’s had a lifelong obsession with butting into other people’s relationship problems. “I’ve always had a natural interest about love and why it makes people feel the way it does,” he says. “And depending on where you’re at with your relationship, it can be the best thing in the world or it can also be the worst thing in the world.”
Been dumped by some asshole you met on Tinder? McGinn might be able to help. On Saturday, July 23, he’ll be offering his services free of charge during his first-ever public event. It all goes down from 2 p.m. to 7 p.m. at the Museum of Broken Relationships, because there’s likely nowhere more fitting to agonize over the pain of love than at a Hollywood Boulevard museum that exhibits personal objects from failed romances.
McGinn anticipates he’ll be taking clients on a first-come, first-served basis, and he’s in no hurry to rush the conversation. “I would hate to have a timer where it’s like, your 10 minutes is up, here’s a business card,” he says. “As you can tell, I don’t like to do traditional business.”