Ko-Fi

Saturday, December 10, 2016

The Great Disconnect



There's a lot of things in this world I don't claim to understand.  NBA basketball, for instance.  Just put the clock at two minutes, give both teams 100 points, and play from there.  It's going to end up being at that point anyways.

Or pop music.  Sure, kids listen to it because it's all new to them.  But adults?  We've heard it all before.  There is no reason for an adult to listen to pop music.  None.

And I don't understand why so many husbands treat their wives like shit.

I've had a bunch of phone calls in recent days.  A couple just tonight, even.  And men, why do you treat someone you claim to care about like shit?

I'm not an expert on women.  Far from it.  And the older I get, the less I know.  Truth be told, one of the many reasons I'm going to die alone is because I don't understand woman and I don't understand much beyond friendship.  I am removed from it all.

Tonight, a friend was upset because her husband won't say one sentence to her to make her happy.  "I love you, you're smart, and everything is going to be okay."

How do you not?  His pathetic excuse was, if you wanted him to say that, and he did, it wouldn't be genuine.  Clearly his understanding of just how little choice he really has in life is lacking.  Worse, he can't say a simple sentence to make somebody he claims to care about happy.  All she needs is to hear this from him and he can't do it.

I've spent my entire life on the sidelines watching men throw away good marriages to women I'd kill to be with.  I feel like the starving kid watching a television show full of bulimics.

Really?  You eat, then you puke it up?  Then you go and eat some more?  I'm sorry, maybe it's the lack of nourishment in my brain, but could you possibly explain this in terms that don't make me want to kill you?  

The other day, a friend called me, and she was having fights with her husband.  He didn't like her trying new recipes.  He was strictly meat and potatoes.  Nothing else.  Seriously.  And of course, she liked spices other than salt and that funky black pepper those crazy hipster kids are always using.

The poor thing was going crazy with boredom.  She wanted something different--anything.  The fights were getting serious, too.  He was throwing shit around the house and punching walls.

My suggestion was to get him a diaper and a rattle since he was throwing a tantrum.

I am baffled at how many men simply throw away marriages after a certain period of time.  But, I do understand that I just don't get it--I've never had a long-term relationship.  The longest was 18 months and I totally fucked that up and destroyed her life in the process.  Granted, that wasn't my intention, and the guilt has burned holes through me over and over again.

But no, I've never been in a position to get bored with somebody.  And maybe that's the whole problem.  From where I'm sitting, it looks like they're pissing away the best thing in their lives.

There was a television show I watched years ago where two guys were playing bumper cars with a couple of almost brand-new pick-up trucks.  Every time they bashed into each other, they did more damage than what my car was worth.  I screamed at the television, "If you want to piss that away, just give it to me!"  But that wouldn't have worked.  Sometimes, you need to see the destruction and know you did it yourself to find any kind of satisfaction.

I knew one woman married to a domineering asshole who controlled her every little choice.  I adored her and would have done anything for her.  It was heartbreaking to see how upset it made her and yet she stayed with him.  Maybe it's what she deserved, in her own mind, and it was what she wanted in the end.  I don't know.  I do know this--I walked away because I just couldn't stand to see it any longer.  I stopped answering her e-mails and eventually, she forgot all about me.

Ok, I'll be honest here.  It was one e-mail.  She sent me one e-mail, I ignored it, and she never spoke to me again because that's how much I meant to her.

This week, I've seen a lot of ugliness in relationships rise to the surface.  One woman told me her husband informed her he would no longer have sex with her because doing so was an extra chore in his day and he was already tired enough as it was.

I wondered how he would feel knowing she was having an affair.  She wasn't, of course.  She never would.  Those sorts of shitbag husbands always seem to end up with women who don't stray outside of the marriage.  But I still wondered.  Would he shrug his shoulders and simply not care?  Would he be upset?  Would it even register with him?

Many years ago, I met a woman who was stunningly beautiful.  She was in her mid-40's and was just exquisite.  Brilliant smile, blue eyes, great body, and I could hear her talk for hours.  She had this voice that made everything seem playful and interesting.  She was married to a guy who was such an extreme introvert he wouldn't talk to anybody other than her at a party.  He never danced with her. Even at their own wedding, he wouldn't dance with her.

She accepted all of this about him and said she loved him.  To me, that's a very cool aspect to human interactions.  We can be with people who leave us wanting and still be happy with them.

And even if she had not been happy with him, that would not have guaranteed anything.  One of the couples I knew in an "open relationship" had very few boundaries and I'm sure what boundaries they did have were crossed regularly.   It seemed like they had no respect for one another at all.  But they stayed together, and last I knew, it had been twenty years for them.

I've known a few couple who were swingers.  Each of them are still together.

I say this to illustrate a point--I don't get it.  I don't understand any of it.  I never did.  I never knew what made a happy couple tick and I never knew why a couple stayed together despite having so many issues.

I joke a lot about how I'm often the 3rd wheel or how I'll be the only person by myself at a group function, where everybody had a wife or girlfriend or significant other of some kind.  But there is more to it than just being on my own.  I genuinely never understood couples.

To me, it's like a biological imperative everybody else has but myself.  The bell rings and the whole crowd gets up in unison to do some task imprinted upon their consciousness since birth.  I have no clue what they're doing or why, and while it looks like fun, my brain wasn't given that imprint.

While I'm not like Uncle Fester with breadsticks up my nose, I can tell you I'm about as smooth an operator as Mr. Bill stealing cookies from Mr. Sluggo's cookie jar.

So yeah, I don't get it.  I don't understand a fucking thing and that's put me at a huge disadvantage.  I'm alone on a Friday night but my phone keeps ringing with women who need to vent about what Dipshit did or said that week.

And I swear, the next person to tell me I'm not missing anything gets shot in the dick.  Yes, I am missing something.  I'm missing something huge because I'm the one out of sorts here.  I'm the one who doesn't understand why 99.9999% of the population is doing something.  I'm the one they all look at and just nod their heads in understanding while saying, "Yeah, that's how it going to go for that guy  Huh."  

I don't have the secret mark or something.

Or worse, maybe I am marked, and everybody can see it but me.  Maybe I've got something written on my face that says I don't get it.

It says I don't belong and I never will belong.

The mark on my face says you're better off with the asshole who treats you like shit than with me because there is something really wrong with me.  Something so wrong, so awful, and so terrible, that it is downright dangerous.

No, you don't want this one.  You're better off with the guy who cheats on you and tells you he's better than you.  You're better off with the guy who posts those private pictures you took in Cancun on 4chan for horny teenagers to drool over.  You're better off with the guy who gets drunk and terrorizes your kids.  You're better off with the guy who has so little respect for you, he tells all of his friends about what happens in the bedroom.

But I know that's not the case.  I know there isn't a mark on my face.  I know there isn't some club I never got invited to.  I know the real reason these things have happened, and continue to happen, and will always happen.  It's not a big secret or some mysterious puzzle.

No, it's not a mark on my face.  It's a blog on the web.  It's a post on Facebook.  It's a comment on Twitter.  It's a late-night e-mail.  It's a comment made in the lunchroom.  It's the silence at a party.  It's the story told at a cookout.

You see, in the end, there is nothing.  And that nothingness echos so loudly it drowns out the rest of the world.



  

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