I am in awe. My gender never ceases to disappoint me. I have grown weary, and perhaps even a smidge irate, at the endless moaning and whinging about how horrible men are, while we chicks wander about stalking people, throwing fits and generally acting like two year olds. Not to say that men don't exhibit the same behaviours, but that's the point. We're ALL crazy bitches.
I don't think I really know anyone who isn't nuts. Nuts is the new normal. If you don't have a quirk, you likely don't have a pulse. Sure, this makes for great dinner parties, but it sucks when it comes to interpersonal relations.
Aside: There is nothing, in my opinion, more beautiful than watching a Guinness cascade.
Back to it - people's insanity. I mean really.
I'm sitting in my living room, reading. The phone rings. It's Peter. After ribbing me for not being able to keep up with his drinking (He's 6'4 and Danish fer Chrissakes), he launches into this story about this chick he was dating that has gone bunny boiler on his ass. He had just gotten off the phone with her (she hung up on him) and as he took a deep breath to go into detail, she shows up at his door. This means she literally hung up the phone and sped to his door. WTF? To be angry at him? To tell him he's horrible for dumping her? Grab a shred of dignity and stay the fuck off his doorstep, you drama-seeking, thirty-something, validation vacuum. I don't get it. I don't do this. I do other things that are crazy, but I'd like to think that my quirks are charming and non-threatening. I could be wrong. I'll have to think about that.
Tomorrow I am hosting a party. SO far there will be myself, my sister and 8 guys. None of my female friends can come. This should be interesting.
At any rate, rant ends.
1 comment:
I always try not to feel too smug when I read this sort of stuff, since the thirtysomething John Doheny was pretty much like the dickheads you describe (and a musician to boot, which means I had no money).
But I am moved to offer up a couple of things. One, whenever women of a certain age relate these kinds of complaints about men, I have a standard reposte. "Those are not men. Those are boys." Doesn't matter if they're a thirty four year old investment banker with a False Creek Condo bought and paid for. Them's emotional adolescents yez are talkin about. I dunno what it is, maybe the imperitives of biology (pregnancy?) but girls just seem to grow up faster. They have to (although, as you point out above, some of them get pretty cynical and manipulative in the process).
Two, the pithiest, most illuminating one-liner I picked up in 12 years of psychotherapy was this: "Adults ask for what they want."
Games are a waste of energy, and a cowards way out.
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