I've been sick - really, really sick. I spent one solid week thinking I was going to die. Today I'm back at work. I'm still sick. I still feel like I'm going to die. But I'm out of sick leave and shit has to be done. So I'm rocking myself back and forth in my desk chair while typing on the computer. I'm hoping that mindlessly writing down whatever crosses my mind will help me to stop thinking about how sick I feel.
I had an interesting series of conversations recently. It seems that a guy several of my friends and I went to high school with has become single again. He's lonely and broken-hearted and unsure how to be back in the dating world again after so many years of marriage. So, feeling a bit lost, he's drawing from the same old pool he used to - the girls we went to high school with. Or, at least, the ones who are or are about to be single again. They always used to like him in high school. But now this weird female thing is happening. They are shying away. And I, being tactless and prone to speaking things aloud that people usually don't, asked some of the women why.
"He just needs to get laid," said one prospective hottie he had scoped out.
"I'm sorry," I replied. "how is this a problem? I mean, this is what is stopping you from dating him?"
"Yeah, he needs to get laid. Like NOW."
"So you want him to go get laid - by someone else - and THEN come and ask you out?"
"Yeah, basically."
Do you see how confusing this is? Here is a good-looking single woman who once told me she could use some decent sex soon herself since she's been divorced a few years now, but she doesn't want to go out with this guy until he first goes and gets laid somewhere and gets that out of his system. Whaaat??
I guess that myth about desperate guys emitting some sort of stink of desperation is true. He must reek of it or something. Either that or he's staring at her boobs. I don't know which. I've glanced at her boobs a time or two and to be fair, they are impressive. I suppose if he's drowning in the pool of no-sex then her boobs must be a giant eye-magnet to him and he's probably staring way too much and getting caught. And also there's that goofy smile, the one I know I have myself, which men get when they are feeling totally blown away by a woman and they get all "huh huh, gosh oh gee." I think I've seen him with that smile on his face. One of my female friends named it the "boob face." Apparently women aren't impressed by a guy flashing that "boob smile" at them and being all goofy. This, too, I know from my own personal experience of failure. I get that smile a lot, and boobs don't have to be involved at all. Anything that makes me feel intimidated can set off that stupid grin and then it's man the lifeboats and reach for your pepper spray 'cause you'd think I just dropped my pants and whipped it out or something. It's the most powerful woman-repeller I know of short of shouting "women should be in the kitchen baking pie and making babies." In fact, in some circles its even more powerful than that, because some women actually like being in the kitchen and raising babies. But no woman likes that goofy-assed grin, or so it seems. And he's got it all over his face every time I see him.
Anyway, apparently this friend he was interested in has started dating someone now so he's out of luck for the time being. Maybe he could take this opportunity to rush out real quick and get laid, pay for it, and come back all cool and calm in time for her to be available again if things should fail to work out with her new guy.
This oddity of women not wanting to have sex with a guy unless he doesn't really need to have sex makes me think the idea of outlawing prostitution is dumb. Guys who really NEED it aren't going to get it until they already HAD it, so they aren't EVER going to get it unless they can either A) find a drunk girl B) find a desperate girl or C) buy it from a girl willing to sell it. In most states A is illegal, too, so that only leaves B and for some guys and in some cities there just aren't enough desperate girls to go around. So that leaves many guys stuck without any hope, and that leads to violent crimes and acts of terrorism. Because you know none of those Muslim terrorists are getting any, not with those faces and their "kill the infidels" personalities. Not unless they pay for it.
OK, jump ahead a few days and I've been to the doctor, got medicines, and am not nearly as close to death's door as I was. Yay.
I had another conversation with one of the women who said that guy needs to get laid before asking her out. Back in college I had a small crush on her and tried to get a date with her. It was like talking to smoke. She would stand there looking right through me and never seem to register that I was even there. Date? What? Were you talking? Are you still here?
Fast forward these many years and she's around again, still looking very much the same. She's got those blue-green eyes and strong cheekbones that the women who descended from Vikings and Norwegian bikini models have. She's got the perfect white teeth and v-shaped face. She's got the long, thick, flowing hair. She's got the bikini model body. She actually used to be a model. And everybody wants her. Still. But now she's divorced and looking to date. I'm married so I'm one of her random guy friends who doesn't hit on her.
Today was when she opened up a little for the first time and told me about not looking twice at a guy who doesn't have ripped abs. And I couldn't help but look down at my own 'abs.' I don't have anything you'd call abs really. There's no trace of anything even remotely resembling proper abs. Not unless I flex really hard. And that bothers me. Especially after working with a damn trainer for a year and a half. That useless fucker.
Not two hours after my conversation with the Norwegian bikini model, I ended up somehow in a conversation with an ex-girlfriend from back in The Day. She very matter-of-factly told me that all her friends in school thought I was super hot, but she never let them near me, never let me know. She laughed and said I was pretty dumb. I never seemed to realize. Yeah, I guess she's right. How dumb was I? I thought I was a super loser and was deeply depressed most of the time, putting up with unbelievable shit from her when I could have dumped her and dated someone else. It would have sure helped if just once someone had let on that they thought I was something worthwhile instead of just a loser.
Those days are long gone now. Now I'm the invisible man, the friend with no abs. I'm Mister Needs Improvement, Mister Inadequate. And I need a vacation from my life.
Speaking of losers:
And in case that upset you, let me give you some music to calm your stomach:
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