Why I have a reputation as a lush

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

There used to be this girl, in my math class at high school, who always used to carry a bottle of water around with her. I always thought it was the height of chic. That water bottle, along with her long brown hair, seemed better than all the accessories anyone could buy. Only later on did I realize that her height, her ability to be well groomed yet casual were also part of the look. The faux-model look.

The faux-model look is cool because it looks effortless. Those kinds of looks are always the best, I feel, because nobody wants to know that you care about looking good. They might worry that behind all that fussing and fawning you are really a boiled turnip. And, there’s really nothing more unattractive in a person than seeing how desperately they need to show that they are attractive. That’s why metrosexuals are the very opposite of sexy. Only some gay men really like them but since I’m not a gay man, I can’t figure that out. And some women who like to keep men as objects. I don’t like to keep men as objects because when something is an object, it tends not to be in action. What use is a man without action?

My friend’s boyfriend used to iron his pants obsessively every day. He would iron them, and then place them carefully over the back of a chair. One time, he screamed at her because she had lifted the pants off the chair and put them on the shelf. She consulted me about this. “Sam, S__ yelled at me because I moved his pants before the ironing lines were hardened.” Of course I told her to dump him, but there were other mitigating factors as well. Someone who tries to give you an image of brilliance by pretending Foucault is as easy as reading Dr. Seuss is either very boring or very stupid. I can’t figure out which.

This friend was really something. I always try to cultivate a group of attractive girlfriends. This is always useful because then men will think you’re in some lesbian cult of bombshells. It instantly makes you more popular. All men want to have a harem, even if it’s only an imaginary harem that lasts two minutes at a forgettable party. And you can easily turn the tables on them. If enough of these men come around, hunting for their harem you can shoo your girlfriends away and then, presto, you have your own male harem.

Anyways, I used to call this friend the Slovakian princess because she certainly looked liked one, except when she had chocolate cake stuck between her two front teeth. Everybody looks daffy with chocolate cake stuck between their two front teeth. Sometimes, when I’m in front of someone I know I could be attracted to, I try to see them with chocolate cake in their mouth. It helps because then you know you’ll never care for them, not deeply anyways. And not caring too much is the first step towards successful human relations.

Being jealous is unattractive. That’s why sometimes your otherwise beautiful girlfriends might become ugly. You never know when it’s going to happen. One moment they’re raven-haired beauties, the next moment they’re telling you not to talk to someone in case somebody else will be jealous. It’s very difficult to keep track of who you’re not supposed to be talking to, and why. It’s hard to remember the last lie you told when you’re on drugs and it’s hard to avoid talking to someone when they’re crouching over you like a stone tiger. I usually say I need to go freshen up my drink. Which is why I have a reputation as a lush.