‘Tard Boy

18

Jun

and while i’m on the subject [don’t question, just stay with me…] what’s with how freakishly retarded men are anyway?

this happened:

i was on SKOUT, a mobile dating app that’s essentially for hook-ups. not a lot of substance, more shoot-from-the-hip ‘what’re u up 2 now?’. not exactly what this grown-up is looking for, but it’s free and was fun for a minute. i did not meet one, single person in the flesh, although the promise of such a meeting was persistent & a little intoxicating as many of the exchanges were pretty hot out-of-the gate and i received some very interesting photos in lieu of proper introductions. i had offers for cyber frequently and though i always declined, i couldn’t help but imagine some virile young thing with his scruffy beard and cargo pants cut-off below the knee sitting in the dark with his phone in one hand while polishing his knob with the other. it always made me chuckle…dudes are hilarious animals. but then again, aren’t we all? i’m a little embarrassed to admit that i wouldn’t even begin to know what to say anyway: ooh baby, your cock is so…um…funny looking? yea, i’ll not be making any fortunes providing cyber sex, i’m too honest i guess.

so, this one guy contacted me, liked my pic, blah, blah, blah. (one of my favorite things about SKOUT is that NO ONE — except for the weirdos that are trying to get your private email address from you for what end i don’t know — fills out a profile. there’s none of this blushing ‘oh i don’t know what to write about myself…but the last 300 books i read were:…’ bullshit.) we texted back and forth late one night. he was nice looking and young; a couple of really nice photos, one most certainly an actor’s head shot. the exchange was silly, lighthearted, pleasant. it wasn’t long before it turned sexual however, and i spent the rest of the time explaining to him why i wasn’t going to give him my address and why, although his resume of unique gifts was impressive and titillating (i cannot tell a lie) he absolutely could not come over and give me a demonstration, but that i appreciated the offer. he sent me this:

if i’d been 20 again, i might have met him for a drink and whatever else. but young & stupid i’m not anymore, and frankly, sometimes i’m really bummed about it.

so, whatevs, we just ended the convo, no harm/no foul…kept it light, no weirdness, it was fine. left it at ‘ok well…can’t blame a guy for trying, hehehe. catcha later then, take care’. i wholeheartedly believed that was the end of that.

i heard from him again late the next night and was delighted. we had another few moments of what passes for conversation in this modern world: he asked me about work, my dog, i can’t remember, other stuff. i asked him about the project he’d told me about, his friend’s movie shoot, other stuff. it was nice…normal. there was some allusion to we should meet soon, when could we do that? i can’t recall what we decided. it was late and i was tired so he texted ‘sweet dreams’ and we signed off.

next night, late, heard from him again and the big push to get into my drawers WAS ON. i spent the entire time texting, to a stranger, some version of this:  i’m glad you’re a “giver”, that sounds fabulous, but i don’t even know you!

And then, in the midst of calmly and diplomatically trying to impress upon him the sentiment above in yet ANOTHER way, i got this text: Let’s just forget about all this.  I’m sorry to have wasted your time.  I’ve only messaged you when I’ve felt lonely. I’m just going to cut this off here.

i blinked a couple times and thought, WTF? is this like a little tantrum? or is he kidding? he was not.

when i think about how disappointed i was i realize that it was only because i had let myself get swept up in the outrageously naive fantasy that this guy was somehow NOT retarded. i HATE when i know better but don’t pay attention to this wisdom. i never should have even entertained the notion that this young man, from an online hook-up site, could conceivably NOT be a scoundrel. that’s what really got me, that i let him blindside me and after having brought so little effort to the affair…3 nights worth of texts?? holy crap…all i could do was shake my head at my silly-ass self.

there was some sputtering back and forth before the last breath was finally squeezed out of this thing and i was the one there in the dark staring at my phone (hands NOT down the front of my pants, however).

fortunately the cynicism runs deep and strong through these veins, like the Mighty Colorado through the Grand Canyon, and i found myself just laughing at the absurdity of it all:  the arc of an ENTIRE relationship in 3 days worth of texts — discovery, curiosity, affection, then slam! OVER. never mind romeo & juliet, who touched fingers through a gate or something, this guy and i were never in the same zip code…it was insanely pitiful and hilarious. aahh, the modern world.

unfortunately, i was caught so off-guard by this turn of events that i was unable to articulate much of anything other than ‘what the hell just happened?’ which really pisses me off. not even a lame ‘go fuck urself u big, dumb baby’ which would at least have been somewhat satisfactory if not particularly sharp. not horribly fast on my feet, i’m afraid. i suffer terribly from the dreaded 5 Minutes Too Late syndrome. GAH!

if i had had my drothers (and exactly what IS a drother, anyway? or is it/are they always plural?) i would like to have made the following points:

Dear ‘Tard Boy,

Be gone with you then. really. who needs your silly drama? OY…what a BORE!

BUT, for your own sake, as you slink off to abuse yourself in a dark corner of your house (careful not to disturb the roommates, who are almost CERTAINLY having sex because EVERYBODY is except for you), accept a few pieces of wisdom from someone who has been paying very close attention to the world for longer than you’ve known what do do with a hard dick.

FIRST: OF COURSE you are lonely.  it’s what prompted you to sign up for SKOUT in the first place. you uploaded pictures and thought of a clever little moniker for yourself — a pun even, right? you mentioned that in one of our convos; a fan of word-play you are. a sign of intelligence i think i commented. maybe there’s hope for you after all, but intelligence is often wasted. anyway, you then sent messages to strangers in the hopes of meeting one to alleviate your mutual loneliness. HELLO? this is news to you? it’s what we’re all doing on SKOUT, einstein…what did you think? we’re all busy banging our co-workers, neighbors and the UPS guy BUT, hoping to fill the very few slots available on our packed calendars we resort to plucking strangers off the interwebs? it’s the human condition, blockhead…relax! no need to get your bath towel all knotted up in your cajones about it. with just a little more effort you might have found what you were looking for. which leads me to my next point…

IT’S A PROCESS. it takes time.

ALONEness can be immediately addressed by the physical presence of even one person. this, by definition, nullifies ALONEness. it is temporary of course, unless you’re planning to lock this person in your basement, but it’ll do the trick for the time being. 

but LONELINESS…now that’s another story. that is an emptiness that is only mitigated by CONNECTING with people in a real way and over time. it involves sharing & honesty & vulnerability.  you can’t accomplish it in one moment, no matter how intense or seemingly intimate that moment is. it’s not the activity that alleviates the loneliness, it’s the connection.

so my handsome but oh-so-stupid young friend, you are destined to be in the cul-de-sac of your own lameness until you figure out that fucking is not really what your heart wants. it’s fun and great and worth doing whenever possible, don’t get me wrong, however, it will always leave you empty if you think it’s about addressing your loneliness. but it’s your psycho-drama pal…good luck. vaya con dios.

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