The Deal
Sometimes you meet someone who fits together with you perfectly, who makes you want to tell secrets and eat popcorn and be a better person. And sometimes you meet someone who makes you feel like you’re slamming your head in a car door, on purpose. You can just feel how self-destructive the relationship is. It feels like the difference between ordering a glass of wine and grabbing a bottle of jager - you just want to get fucked up.
It’s fun but it’s bad, and like smoking a whole pack of cigarettes, eventually you get a stomach ache and think about how angry your mother would be at you for doing it and you move on. This is usually around the time where you see them haggling with a bartender over the price of a beer or they mention they’re fucking a gym teacher on the side. Suddenly it’s just done. Done done. When and if you do think of them, you hope/assume that they are off crying in a dumpster or crapping their pants on a public bus or something.
These relationships are somewhat unavoidable. I have seen it happen to all of my friends. Beguiled by flighty actors, brooding musicians, and pre-occupied video artists, they indulge their inner self-hatred in the name of romance, then leave shaking their heads that it ever happened. But there’s no use beating yourself up over it - everyone has to tick through a certain number of these trainwrecks to get to the good stuff. What else would we have to blog about? The secret to survival is to not try tostart a relationship with this person. Actually dating sticky man-trash (or lady-garbage) is beyond self-destructive, it’s deluded. Keep things in perspective: go to parties, have some laughs, show up for work stinking of mistakes and regrets a couple of times - but never let him borrow anything or eat with you, and get out after a month.
And most of all, just know where you’re at. A handful of jaeger when you’re expecting popcorn is just going to make a mess.
Although a shot of popcorn when you’re not expecting it is just a nice surprise.
Also, here’s a big fat kitty cat:
September 26th, 2008 at 12:57 pm
I relate to this more than you know at the moment. Both the blog and the cat, unfortunately.
September 26th, 2008 at 1:36 pm
Eep! I accidentally deleted a comment when I was trying to approve it! I am sorry, whoever you are - comment again!
September 26th, 2008 at 2:11 pm
Few things are as heart warming to me as when I see friends get some popcorn.
September 26th, 2008 at 3:18 pm
It’s all masochism. Eating too much popcorn, Jager, obese domesticated animals and dating. Kind of sad, really.
September 26th, 2008 at 4:39 pm
Awww…. you deleted me. ’sokay. That’s usually what sticky man-trash does to me too. I’m used to it. <3
September 26th, 2008 at 7:48 pm
Nicely done. To hell with commitment - grief and angst (and the obligatory drinking) is far more preferable.
I named the third ring under my eye “Amanda.”
September 27th, 2008 at 1:17 am
The biggest problem occurs when you become not just used to but almost dependent on the feeling of slamming your head in a car door…because, let’s face it, lady-garbage can be damn attractive at times, and not just physically.
September 27th, 2008 at 12:37 pm
But making you a better person would require stopping you from eating popcorn in my book.
I hate popcorn.
September 28th, 2008 at 4:43 pm
Comedy is about making light of problems and letting them exist.
Drama is about solving problems.
And irony masks how you really feel.
Which basically means there are no jokes really. So if you say something that’s even a “joke”, better make sure it has a foundation.
Also, has anyone done a video montage of fat cats and Fat Bottomed Girls? Yet?
September 28th, 2008 at 7:20 pm
Not trying to hijack the comments section of this blog, but I have to wonder if I’m the only person who doesn’t know if I’m drinking popcorn or jager until months and months later? Am I just too inexperienced and/or naive to be able to taste the difference? It seems that every time that I think I have popcorn, my friends think I have jager… and whenever I think I just have jager, my friends seem to think I finally found some popcorn.
Am I just too broken to tell the difference, or are there other people out there like this?
PS - I had a dream last night where a flight attendant spit in my face. When the plane landed, I went to customer service to complain and Eliza was the very helpful girl behind the desk who helped me sue the airline.
September 28th, 2008 at 9:02 pm
You got this one down exactly. Thank you writing this down.
September 29th, 2008 at 9:53 am
Comedy + dating advice. I like this formula, Ms. Skinner.
September 29th, 2008 at 10:09 am
James it’s not just you… There’s nothing like the feeling of finding out she’s not just a stripper, not just pregnant, but a smack addict as well… AFTER she’s already moved in… at your urging….
BTW… Jarrod, I totally agree… everytime I see a hypodermic needle, be it at a doctors office or at the pharmacy, all I hear is The Allman Brothers “Melissa”… so I know your pain my friend..
October 1st, 2008 at 2:56 pm
this cat makes me sad….