Loving the Ladies

        I think there has been some concern that I don’t love the ladies based on some recent posts.  This is not true, I love the ladies.  When I say “better half” I’m never referring to the guy.  Seriously, I’m way pro the ladies.  Also, I’m not anti-relationships.  I’m a bit iffy on marriage as a principal, but I’m not against any actual marriage.  If it makes you happy, go nuts, I really don’t care.

        The reason I may sound antagonistic towards the ladies is because I’m allowed to be antagonistic to the ladies.  Most people aren’t.  I’ll accept the consequences because they really aren’t that bad.  It’s not like I’m going to have to sleep on the couch.

        Couple things though; I do not believe in true love because it’s asinine and depressing.  In a world of billions you really want to believe in that one perfect person?  What if my one person is in Australia with a hot, hot accent?  That’d be awesome, but I’d probably never meet her.  And what if someone actually cared for me (hypothetically speaking) and I died?  Would I want that person to pine over me for the rest of their existence?  Okay, maybe a little bit.  But a normal person certainly wouldn’t.

        I also think coupling/relationships are all too often treated as a necessity.  Look, I deal with lots of people and for the most part would prefer if ya’ll didn’t breed.  Just saying, it’s not like the preservation of the species is at risk here.

        I do believe in lust at first sight.  I think the proof is all of the Pop music stars of the last couple decades.  Also, being that most of them have been teenage girls, I’m both sad and scared for the future.  Popular culture freaks me out.

        Maybe I go overboard on talking about how women are batshit insane.  But seriously?  Sometimes ya’ll are.  Not all the time.  But all of you, some of the time.  Men are nuts too, but at least I understand that kind of nuts.  I’m not holding insanity against you, I’ve had to walk down the feminine hygiene aisle.  I’m giving ya’ll all the credit in the world for dealing with that fiasco.

        So yeah, never interpret my ramblings as being anti-ladies or anti-relationships or anti-anything.  Except pennies, I hate pennies.  Also, I’m usually drunk, so that should probably be taken into consideration.

Pity Party

        It’s always interesting when people feel sorry for me.  I find the whole idea a bit astounding.  I certainly have many faults and quite a few things in life that could use improvement, but they are almost all my fault.  And many quite fixable at that, certainly nothing deserving special sympathy.

        Most of the pity relates to some misbegotten idea of potential loneliness, though I’m sure there are other reasons as well.  At the end of the day there are only so many movies to watch or books to read in your free time.  Eventually, you are just alone.

        Wait, people are continuing to make movies and write books?  Well, if my eyes get tired or I happen to go blind...

        What is this music of which you speak?  And they still make that?  Oh, I guess not real music anymore.

        Anyway, I think it all stems from the things in life that I simply do not get to have.  Let me give you some examples:

1. I do not get to go watch Romantic Comedies.
2. I do not get to tell someone about my day.
3. I do not get to bring a date to weddings.
4. I do not get to share my thoughts and feelings.
5. I do not get to expand my horizons with another’s perspective.

        All fine points, I do not get these things.  But I’m really more of a “have” kind of person than a “get” kind of person.  Observe:

1. I do not have to go watch Romantic Comedies.
2. I do not have to tell someone about my day.
3. I do not have to bring a date to weddings.
4. I do not have to share my thoughts and feelings.
5. I do not have to expand my horizons with another’s perspective.

        I feel this is actually a much more positive view of the world.  But hey, that’s just me.

Hater

        The best compliment that I think I’ve ever been given is when someone said that I look like I could be a “hater.”  I’m still not exactly sure what a hater is, but apparently it’s pretty intimidating.  This is several shades of awesome.  There are probably two things worth noting here:

        1.  The only thing that guys notice about each other is whether or not we can “take the other out.”  It’s not so much that we are always in a fighting mood or anything overly aggressive, but rather that if things came down to fight or flight we instinctively want to know what to do.  Women compare shoes, men: possible death scenarios.

        2.  I’m not very tall, a little pudgy, and extremely pale.  The pale would work if I was a specter, but unfortunately my (pudgy) tangibility takes that option away.

        Based on factoid #2, people like me aren’t generally all that high up the intimidation scale.  But apparently I do possess some sort of “hater” persona, so that bumps me up a few notches.  I have no idea why.  It could be that I’m always glaring at people, but I have pretty sensitive eyesight.  And you know what?  I don’t care, because it’s the best compliment ever.

Let's be friends!!!!!!!!

        I’m not sure why I have to clarify this, but I am not a friendly friend.  It’s a pretty absurd mistake to make, since I’m, like, me.  And have been for an awfully long time.

        I don’t want it to sound like some kind of negative thing.  It’s not like I don’t like my friends.  I don’t like all of them or anything, but I’m amenable to some of them.  Just don’t expect me to be the happy cuddly kind of friend.  

        Look, if you’re moving and can afford beer, give me a call.  If you need a ride to the hospital because you shattered your hip, call 911.  Don’t wait for me, crazy person.  If there is something generic and undaunting that needs to be accomplished, I’m the friend to call.   I’m a generic and undaunting companion.  I’ll even buy the last round, I’m just that sort of cat.

        If you’re having emotional issues or want validation?  Not so much.  I’m the friend who can outdrink you.  I’m the friend who can trump your embarrassing stories because, again, I can outdrink you.  The only way someone like me makes somebody else feel better about themselves is when they look at my life critically and say, “damn.”  But you don’t need me around for that.

        So please people (person,) when you want a friend to go out and have a good time or be supportive in a trying time, call a woman.  It ain’t me, babe.

Please God will somebody please, please know the song reference of the last sentence...

Public Service

If you are old enough to drive but not old enough to rent a car, shut up.  You have nothing to say.

Curmudgeon out.

Happy boring happerton

        I’m up on the downside of life.  

        It’s not as bad as it sounds, for the most part.

        Let me expand in a paragraph more than a single sentence.  Because let’s be honest, that’s a pretty generic and boring way to make a point.  I’m not depressed as a person.  I have been accused of being depressing, but that’s completely different.  I just am more interested in life’s valleys.  I think we can all agree that life has it’s ups and downs, and I simply find the downs to be more intellectually stimulating.  

        I’m willing to wager that I’m not in the minority; most people fall into this category to varying degrees.  If you’ve ever read a sad story or watched a movie where the hero dies, you know what I mean.  Most entertainment drama utilizes the downside.  A character dies, or fights for redemption, any revenge story, etc.

        Being happy is actually pretty boring.  Ever notice how every love story ends at the “love” part?  There’s nothing left to tell.  Let’s say that your life is going well, what does that say about you?  Not much.  Let’s say your life isn’t going all that well, what does tell us?  Everything.

        Adversity defines who we are.  How you react to loss defines what kind of person you’re willing to be.  How you deal with a bad situation makes you a different person.  How you react to puppies?  Don’t care at all.  This is a good thing, if you look at it in the right light.

        It’s an opportunity.  The bad stuff is an opportunity to be somebody else, perhaps somebody better.  Maybe it just proves who you really are.  “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade” is an absurdly simplistic but nonetheless somewhat true phrase.  The person you are when life is easy is irrelevant.  We’re all pretty much the same in the good times.  Who you are when you need to be something better is far more interesting.  And if you don’t face that challenge well?  That tells us something too.  

In My Defense

     I’ve mentioned that I’ve been reading Young Adult fiction lately, which is probably surprising to anybody who has an inkling of who I am.  Let’s be honest here, I can be a pretty pretentious douche sometimes (usually.)  Though not with fiction, I can be supportive of any kind of fiction.  You want to have a magic sword?  Go for it.  The most beautiful woman of all time falls hopelessly in love with the fat nerd?  Fantastic.  Just beware my wrath if you’re overly optimistic about real life.  I enjoy lying for a purpose, I abhor lying to yourself on purpose.

        I’m not sure why I’ve been on such a Young Adult kick lately, other than I look at it as candy fiction.  It’s nice to be able to read a book in a day or two, and not have to wonder if there is deeper meaning.  There always is deeper meaning, but I think we give authors entirely too much credit.  If you describe someone’s hand as being a big paw, you are not necessarily trying to invoke the idea of the character as a bear.  It may just be a convenient way to say “big hand.”  But I digress (damn you English teachers for ruining books!)

        The other thing that I’ve been thinking about is the emotionality of the teenage characters.  We’re all pretty stupid growing up because we think our world is overly important.  Once I was listening to someone younger than me complain about some life experience and they got mad at me for telling them what was really going on.  Quite common: “you don’t know what it’s like.”  Yes I do.  And so does everybody else.  Life experiences do not separate people from one another, they bring us together.  We go through most of the same growing pains (similar enough for comparison anyway,) so we can relate.  I went through it, she went through it before me, he went through it before her, on and on through perpetuity.  An individual may be a unique little snowflake, but you’re still part of the pile of snow.

That’s all true, but it also unfair.  Let’s get back to being a teenager or writing from their point of view.  The reason they think what they are going through is deeper, stronger, or more important than it was for anybody else is because it is.  Experience dulls our sentimentality by teaching us to know better.  This is a good thing.  But firsts are still more important at the time.  Your first kiss is a big deal, and also probably bad.  Your first concert is a big deal, and again, probably bad.  So when an actual person (or fictional person) goes through these things, they are feeling it stronger than we remember.  Time is a game changer, and dangerous in its subtlety.

I think that’s why I am enjoying reading these stories, because it harkens to the days when everything was more important.  I certainly don’t want to be as naive ever again, I still have plenty of that to sort through.  However, looking back on the idea of that time, being an emotional black hole, is a bit refreshing.  Because things are a bigger deal the first time and it’s important to remember that.  It gives the fiction a hyperbolic quality that real life (fortunately) no longer has.

And that’s my defense for being a wuss.