who, for personal reasons, shall remain nameless (Hey, Nate), lamented to me recently that while there are plenty of woman around to share a fleeting encounter (while he’s asleep and dreaming, granted), he is having a hell of a time finding someone with whom he can truly connect. Na…I mean, “Mr X” is a bit of geek, with a healthy dose of nerd and Asperger’s thrown in for good measure, so this should not have been any great revelation.
Still, the point he kept awkwardly trying to hammer home was that he wanted to hook up with someone wth whom he could not just “hang out,” but have a significant meeting of the minds, peppered with deep, meaningful discussions. In short, he was longing for his soul mate.
“I want what you and John have.”
Okay, reality check, my anonymous friend. You want depth? Not too long ago, John and I had a knockdown,drag-out about whether or not The Love Boat could theoretically dock on Fantasy Island.
“That is the most asinine thing you ever pulled out of your ass !” said, John, in his stupid, whiny, faux intellectually superior voice. “There was no dock. Just a landing strip for sea planes. (Insert condescending, “why are women so stupid??” tone here.)
“Well, you’re being awfully presumptuous, aren’t you, ‘Professor.’ Just because we never saw a boat actually make land, that doesn’t imply the LACK of a dock.”
“You’re being unreasonable.” (Semi-angry-but not enough to off the couch male posturing.)
“And,” say I, “you can’t prove a negative. Hell, I’ll bet it was even the same island upon which that Gilligan and company were stranded. We just can’t know.”
“Okay, now you’re just being purposely argumentative and ridiculous.”
“Hey, I’m a girl. It’s what I do. And speaking of, who was Eva Braun’s lover?”
“Who was Eva Braun’s lover? What’s the matter? Don’t you know, Einstein?”
“What the hell does Hitler have to do with anything?”
“Aha! Godwin’s law! You lose.”
“You’re really fucked up, you know that?”
“And you’re a dick. And not the good kind.”
Later that night, we went to go see, Saving Mr. Banks at the second run movie theater, just because I wanted to see it and knew John didn’t. That, and I was able to get in for two bucks by sneaking in on a senior discount ticket. (Being gruesome has its perks.)
So, there you have it. True relationships; relationships that stand the test of time, aren’t based on mutuality in all things fuzzy. They are forged on how well you can inhibit the gag reflex after you’ve established common ground on a handful of vital issues.
Which, in our case, is: Do whatever Mew wants so she shuts the hell up already.
Not always easy for me, admittedly, since my husband’s taste is up his ass.
Exciting and new indeed.