dilletantism, romanticism, charlatanism
Sometimes, I have nothing to say. Some days, I think that’s best.
It’s going to be a long night, and I deserve better.
Yes. I’ve already said too much.
I will overcome this awkwardness. I deserve better in my life.
Inappropriate relations. It’s the new buzz word. It’s all the rage. It’s code word for sex.
What are inappropriate relations? What qualifies?
In today’s world, that’s pretty grey. And bound to get greyer.
As we as a society get smarter, we’re also expected to adhere to guidelines—which we may (or may not) know all of the rules and details hidden within.
And no matter just how unnatural these guidelines become.
Why unnatural?
Because these social justice warriors are forgetting about human nature. They believe that through the intelligence of our species, we can somehow CONTROL human nature. We can shut that shit down and not give in to our whims.
Somehow, people believe that through our intelligence we can deny our instinctual programming. That our prime directive, ingrained, at birth, is to survive and replicate.
And somehow, we’re going to think ourselves into extinction.
To survive, to replicate, a man will continue to think about sex every few seconds. He will imagine that beautiful girl without clothing. The flush of her skin, the softness of her breast, the curve of her lower back, the feeling of entering her.
Yet, attraction isn’t a choice—in either direction. She’s thinking about someone else. Someone she’s infatuated with. A movie star, whose appearance in an early morning YouTube view inspired her to wear that red lipstick. That unattainable celebrity that drives the wild passions within her... is... not... him.
But, she sees him every day. She smiles at him, tends to like his company, asks questions indicating that she’s interested in him and his life. Hell, they even spend quality time together, talking about the state of the world over Asian fusion and cocktails.
So, today, she looks extra fine. He thinks it may just be because she’s into him. After all, she’s feeling those urges to replicate as well. Instinctually, she wants a real man to prove himself worthy, to pass all of her tests and NOT put up with ALL of her bullshit, to seduce her, enter her, and put that baby inside her.
It’s too bad that “he” in her mind is not him. Nevertheless, he’ll sense that she’s particularly frisky today—she’s still thinking about that hunk in the video this morning that makes her wet. No matter how many chodes have hit on her today, she keeps returning to that feeling she felt this morning, when she glammed up. She keeps trying to regain that feeling anyway.
And unknowingly, he’s chode number 1,254 today who noticed how beautiful she looks today. He tells her, and she appears shocked. Shocked is good, so he continues. He lets it all out and tells her his true feelings.
She loses her shit. No, not literally.
She feels betrayed, because he was her neutered BFF. He was the one she could count on. Now he’s made that inappropriate suggestion. But he wasn’t the one she wanted... in that moment. And he ruined it, the dumb bastard, because he wanted her.
Fast forward seven years—the two of you are no longer friends, but both of you work for the same company. His cool-headedness and natural talent have allowed him to excel in your field and advance. She’s good at what she does, but not quite as good as he.
She has an ace up her sleeve though. She wants his success. She remembers how close you both once were, but how he ruined it... with sex. The sex got in the way. How inappropriate.
The world must know! That chode they’re about to promote over her once tried to seduce her! Damn human nature... he MUST have known I wasn’t interested. There was nothing about him I was drawn to, but he suggested we get together and do bad things. Tell the world. Get that promotion.
Did he touch her tits? Maybe. Was he horny and wanting in her pants? Probably. Again, it’s human nature. To deny that the sexes have frequent sexual thoughts about the opposite sex—is ludicrous.
Sex is the most natural thing. Yet this war on men and their “inappropriate behavior” will result in phasing sex out. By hitting men where it counts. Everything he does, he does for sex with a woman. This is why status matters so much. Yet she will always envy his status—again, nature at it’s savage best. And she will ruin him.
Over a mistake where he advanced, and she didn’t want him to.
Human Nature
For a short time while growing up, we lived with my uncle, who was head chef at a fine food establishment in town. I remember living there fondly, because we had crazy amenities there... a soda machine with free Pepsi, Mountain Dew and root beer in glass bottles (soda that was delivered every other week by the local Pepsi distributor), a state-of-the-art entertainment center with plenty of movies to choose from, and ATVs to provide a lifetime of entertainment.
Of course, like most dream worlds—there was one room that was forbidden. My uncle’s room. My Pandora’s box.
I was eight, but I was still left on my own from that moment the bus dropped me off until one of the adults got home. Guess I was one of those latch key children, if only we’d locked the doors. Small town living.
Anyway, one afternoon I was feeling adventurous and checked out his room. I don’t recall much about the room, but I do remember what I found on his dresser.
Change.
Several hundred dollars. In change.
Incredible. Until recently, I’d never seen anything like it. How can one accumulate so many coins?
And now I know—hence why I was reminded of this childhood experience. It’s called the service industry. With so much cash on hand, I can no longer even attempt to keep track of the change. Whoever cleans out my house after I pass on will definitely have a payday.
I find myself wondering if I should pick up one of those 5-gallon glass water jugs to hold it. Or a milk jug. Or maybe I should plan weekly trips to the bank?
While I was flying a desk, I was living cash poor—rarely having two quarters to rub together. Now? I have plenty of liquidity in the bank, but I always seem to have at least $600 cash on hand as well.
It’s a different life, that’s for sure.
I Just Wanna Stop
At the end of last year, when I decided to set a lofty book reading goal, I didn’t anticipate some of the life changes that are resulting.
Likely, it is a combination of decisions I’ve made. Last October, I gave up television cold turkey. This October, a childhood friend moved to town and hangs out at my place a bit. He enjoys watching TV shows I’ve collected over the years.
My standards of what constitutes a “good” TV show have become a bit more rigid.
Taxi? Still hilarious, obviously some episodes more than others. Mad Men? I still love this show, but I was satisfied with how it ended, so I feel no need to re-binge watch it. Game of Thrones? This is the only show I didn’t give up, because a.) it is a quality show, and b.) it is ending very soon.
Moonlighting? What did I see in this show? So boring now.
For what it’s worth, I’m also having a terrible time sitting through movies. I used to joke that my attention span was about the length of an episode of 30 Rock. Now? I can’t even make it through a ten-second snap on the Snapchat.
My attention keeps turning back to my books. I want to finish The Catcher in the Rye. I want to learn how to Fascinate again. I’m excited to crack Time and Again and follow another time traveler.
I’m also finding this is affecting my social life... considerably. I never realized just how much people talk about pop culture... probably because I could keep up.
Now, I’m an anomaly. I have no interest in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I’ve even lost interest in Star Wars—possibly because Disney’s newest cash cow will never end. Wait, isn’t Marvel owned by Disney too? I’m sensing a pattern.
People I meet refer to reality television shows, or Parks and Recreation, or Rick and Morty. I have no clue what they are talking about.
It’s hard to believe I was once afraid my eulogy would be based around, “He watched television.”
I have never seen Lord of the Rings, which is a deal breaker for my current favorite girl. At least she reads, so I can relate to her in other ways.
At least I’ve read those books.
I feel like I’ve crossed over. I’ve become a freak like Rory Gilmore, nose always in a book.
And now, I’m going to finish today’s work so I can dive back into the world of Holden Caulfield.