Us Poor Dudes

Currently listening to: "Disintegration" by the Cure
Currently reading: "The Shadow: The Mobsmen on the Spot" by Maxwell Grant
Current mood: restless, lonesome, and maybe a pinch bitter

Tonight at work, my last table (last tables almost always have issues) were arguing. It was a couple, and the woman was obviously the one who was upset. She kept raising her voice, loud enough for other tables to hear her. I saw the man shrink ever so slowly into the booth... He was quiet, didn't say a word, and let her speak. But in his mind I could see the true picture: he was throttling her neck and screaming at the top of his lungs for making a scene in public. At once point, as I walked up to refill her tea, I heard her say, "...And that's why you and I are never going to have children."

I winced. I wasn't even a part of the conversation but even I felt the icy stab of that statement. As I walked back into the kitchen, I had to fight down the urge to turn around and tell that guy, "Get the hell out of here, man. Go, now! GO! ESCAPE! I'll keep her busy..."

He finished his steak, and I took away his dirty plate. Fifteen minutes later, the woman's steak was still untouched. She was too busy destroying this man's world to bother with eating a $12.00 sirloin (which he paid for, btw).

Later on, as I cleaned my tables, I couldn't help but listen to the foul harpy shred this man's ego, his manhood, his maturity, his career, his cleanliness, everything. She kept repeating, "I need my space. I have to have my own apartment. I don't want to worry about something getting smashed or broken or lost. I need to have my space." The guy never said a word in his defense. Like any sane male in that situation, he kept his mouth shut. In that kind of argument, a woman isn't looking for the man's perspective on the situation; she's venting. She's chewin' him out. She's bitching. Let her get it out of her system before even attempting a rebuttal. The guy was smart.

There was a moment of silence, and a few minutes later I noticed her empty plate. As I went to take it away and present the check, she looked up at me and asked, "Tell me something, are you good with tools?" I have to admit, a dozen inappropriate responses came to mind, but she was with her boyfriend, so I replied with, "No, I'm an English Lit major, I don't do physical labor." As they laughed at the bad joke, I saw my window of opportunity and walked away. When I returned, she wasn't at the table. It was just the guy. There was money on the check. As I went to pick it up, I told him I'd be right back with change. He said to keep it. There was an eight dollar tip. The bill was over forty dollars.

That argument set that poor fella back fifty clams.

Anyway...

I've been feeling kinda irritable lately. I don't know... I'll be honest. This has been the longest time I've ever gone without talking to my ex-girlfriend. I had serious issues getting over her (ah, hell, admit it, Billy, you still have issues). I've made a little progress... those stabbing pangs in the pit of my stomach have ceased, and I can go almost the entire day without thinking about her.

But every once in a while, when I see something that triggers a memory of her, I feel my pulse quicken and a sharp bolt of mixed emotions passes through me. Almost anything can do this: an outfit, long blond hair, a voice, a smell, a commercial, the way a girl moves, a song, a book, movies, even paintings... I have absolutely no desire to talk to her... What we had was good while it lasted, but it's over now, and that's that. Still, I'm hounded by a thousand imagined jealousies... and a deep sense of bitterness and resentment towards her. And towards girls in general.

This bitterness scares me. I can't say I'm not jaded; I've certainly lost the drive, exuberance, and tenacity of youth, but I'm not quite defeated. I still feel passion for some things. A lot of things, actually. How I'll ever channel these desires, or if I'll even achieve them, I have no clue.

My biggest issue is this: what is it about me, what condition do I have, that makes me want a girlfriend so bad? I'm happy with who I am; I feel like I've got my life pretty well defined. I've got a lot to do to get to where I want to be, but I'm getting there. Right now, at this point in my life, I may not be able to support a wife and family financially... but a girlfriend? Why not a girlfriend? It's not like I'm looking for a soul-mate... At least, not right now... Just a companion, someone who shares a mutual attraction, a girl I can spend time with, whose company and affection I can enjoy, with nothing to worry about except what's happening right now. Is that too much to ask? Obviously so...

My second biggest issue is this: what is it about me, what condition do I have, that makes girls NOT want to date me? I'm not about to list all of my good personality traits; I think I'll spare you that. But it blows my mind, every time I hear about girls who insist on staying in wacked-out, stress-filled relationships with jack-ass boyfriends; or I stand with dropped-jaw whenever I see a relatively nice, innocent, decent girl fall for a guy who is obviously either A) a player, B) a notorious flirt, or C) a cheater.

I like what a stand-up comic said on Comedy Central one day; I can't really remember the joke, so I'll paraphrase it. It goes something like this: A lady friend always will tell you how awesome, kind, caring, thoughtful, and sweet you are; they'll constantly tell you how lucky you'll make some girl, and what a great boyfriend you'd be. And yet they ALWAYS turn around and choose the biggest asshole they can find. The one guy who'll treat 'em like crap, walk all over them, use them, cheat on them, lie to them, hit them, whatever. But for some reason, they still want your number so they can call you and complain about how horrible their boyfriend is to them.

Man, do I sound pathetic.

I don't think I'll mention this blog to the next girl I date.

P.S. Don't ever listen to The Cure when you're even slightly depressed...