Thursday, July 5, 2012

congenitally fractured anyway...

There are times the patience grows thin, and the lack of words is preferable to the usual kvetching. It must be the hormones, or the frustration with our perpetual brokenness and the baggage accumulated upon ten years of adulthood and the first tastes of heartbreak and things not working out the way we thought they would.

Some jumped in too fast, and now have the consequentials, and others of us crawled out from the wreckage, or saw enough of the damage surrounding to steer clear, but still there's that sense of longing, instilled by quasi-platonic ideals instilled all to young of missing halves, of fairy tales and platitudes, and destiny or whatever. It's always what we don't have, or what doesn't seem to be ours to possess isn't it? So as we get older, you'd think we'd grow up a bit, but this adult thing seems to elude us as a whole.

So my biggest pet peeve is to hear this laundry list of what the perfect girl is knowing damn well that such a person probably doesn't exist, because we all have our bad days and our not so bright moments and the times when we get PMS and aren't much fun, and c'mon dudes, you have bad days too, who are we kidding?.

And I hear the bemoaning of the lack of smart women or women who like good music and it's hard for me to take this seriously, because dude I'm standing here right in front of you and I'm waxing rhapsodic about galaxies and literature and history and bands that even you who reads the blogs on the Internets haven't heard of and not using it as social capital but just a wanting to share the sweetness that I've found. Oh yeah, and I can cook pretty well, and I can understand and enjoy sports even if I'm clueless about videogames, and I'm not going to make a fool of myself in public. But if you don't get it, than it's not worth my time, it says more about you than me.

And I've got friends who are like this too, but even if we're cute, because we don't look like that centerfold you drool over or That Hot Chick In That Band that got profiled in Revolver, or that girl who posts pictures of the doves tattooed on her hipbones on facebook, somehow we don't count, because we're not just getting our hair done and retouching our makeup, we're rocking out next to you, and therefore we're either one of the dudes more or less or there's the unspoken assumption that we probably swing the other way, and let's be real, those girls wouldn't hang out with you anyway, or it'd get old fast. You say you want a chick who likes the power chords? Especially in Clevelandia, raised on classic rock and grunge, we're out there, we just don't look like Angela Gossow or Cristina Scabbia or Zooey Deschanel, justsayin'... but who does?

And maybe we girls are guilty of this too, but I think it's easier for us to eventually get smitten by a good personality and a sense of humor and a general sense of decency or something, we're willing to take the chance that the attraction might come later, but perhaps we're expecting a bit too much to think that you'd be the same.


  1. sounds like you may need to widen your social circles a bit, too many little boys...

  2. I've been really making an effort to do that since I crawled out of hermiting after the craziness of awhile back, and in this case, new orbits are more of the same old thing.

  3. *We* have bad days? Bah. I'm as cucumber as a clam.

    You're totally a catch, thus my apology on behalf of the slack-jawed duh-ness of the local branch of my gender.

  4. Totally digging the Love Battery set. What a turn on. I mean, er, thanks for turning me on to it. (S-K has a fairly regular slot in my rotation)

    Listen, lookism blows. Don't spend your life worrying about whether you measure up. THEY need to live up to YOUR standards, not the other way around. I'm not saying hold out for perfects (because, other than Randal who, no doubt, is the exception) it ain't out there. Figure out what you're criteria are, where you're willing to give, and where not. And be open to difference.

    I'm so proud of Wisdaughter who just turned 21 and had the sense to turn down a great guy who she said "brought out the best in her" b/c he made a life decision on his own which didn't include her input but which he just assumed she'd pick up stakes and move anyway because he wanted to live in the same town as his mother. It hurt, yeah. But she had enough self-confidence and -esteem and, dammit, gumption to not let herself be treated as if she had no say in what they might want for a life together. He failed her. That can happen with guys, you know.

    So yeah, whatever. I'm an old fart. Don't mind me. And you tell that Randal kid to turn that music down and keep off my lawn.

    1. Jim,
      When I was younger, it used to bother me way more watching the same kind of sexism manifest itself differently and realizing that those dudes were ultimately superficial losers despite any nice sentiments on their end, and now that I've kind of got everything together and feel very comfortable with who I am and where I'm at in life, it's more of a "I grew up, why haven't any of you?"

      I don't expect perfection (who's perfect? I'm definitely not) but pretty much at this point I'd be happy with some basic compatibility as far as how one sees the world (the religion thing's the big dealbreaker) and whether or not we could get old together and still have something to talk about 30 years on and a degree of mutual respect and affection. My parents are still together and despite not having everything in common, are very happy so I know this kind of thing is possible, if very rare.

      Tall order? Maybe, but I look at the what-could-have-beens of the past and am relieved that they didn't pan out. I'd rather be alone than together and miserable, because there's nothing more lonely at that from what I've seen... we'll see how things pan out. One of the curses of living in the rust belt is that the great minds never seem to stick around.