In Which Lennon Isn't Qualified to Save Your Life....

I think one thing many writers have in common when blogging is that they use venues like this to express themselves in ways they can't (or aren't allowed to) anywhere else. I recognize this now from personal experience. Despite the lifestyle I live and the outgoing exploits I engage in, where my circle of friends are concerned, I am a bit of an outlier. Most of my opinions and viewpoints are often unwelcome They're in committed relationships and that doesn't really cause a rift between us as much as the fact that I'm single (and happy that way). They make no secret of the fact that they don't find me to be much of a "real man." I respect women, I don't lie to them (no matter how convenient it might be), I take people at their word when they earn such privileges, I express my feelings when appropriate and I don't apologize for it. If something wounds me, I say it.

There seems to be a lingering misconception about me that because I like sex and don't care for relationships, that obviously means I don't believe in the dignity of virtue. This, in my opinion, is a misnomer. Sex and virtue don't have to be mutually exclusive. In fact, I believe them to have almost nothing to do with each other. If I have sex with a woman I have no interest in committing and then see her the next day stranded on the side of the road, am I obligated to pass her by because I don't want to hold hands in the park afterwards?

After a nigh-Trojan end of my Transformers movie of a romance (Get it...because it was all pretty explosions even in the face of making no fucking sense), I was left in pretty bad shape. To make a long story short, not only was the wench running off with the other guy, she was marrying him. I did a lot of drinking, I hardly left the house (other than walking to the liquor store) and I was fairly unpleasant to be around if any did have the misfortune of running into me. One day, a friend reached out to me, getting me out of the house, texting each day with an encouraging request for me not to drink. We'd stay up late at her apartment, watching movies and having pillow fights. You know a heterosexual man's having a good time with you if he's actively engaged in a completely non sexual pillow fight. I think the only place I'd ever heard of an actual pillow fight taking place was an episode of Grey's Anatomy and maybe a commercial about underwear.

From time to time, she'd ask if I wanted to talk about my recent heartbreak. It was nice to have an outlet from someone that wasn't necessarily trying to fix the problem so much as understand the nature of the person. Well, that was the way it seemed at the time. Eventually, somewhere along the way, she confessed to having some feelings for me and wondered if I'd ever be able to feel for her what I felt for The Walking Tumor (the ex). In truth, I was attracted to her and greatly enjoyed her company. I mean, come on....pillow fights. She was a lovely woman and sincere to a certain degree. But I wasn't past the hurt of what I'd endured. Violations like that ran deep with me. I told her to give me time and we could see where we ended up. In short, this ended badly. She just ended up not being terribly compatible with me. In fact, as sweet as she is in some ways, in most other facets of courtship, she's only compatible in the way that tag team partners are compatible in professional wrestling. Bossy, argumentative, moody....she was a trifecta of intellectual castration. I may as have been having dinner with a bulldozer.

One notable point of conflict came from the fact that she didn't have any furniture. I'm not talking about an absence of lamps and bookshelves. The woman didn't have a bed or a couch. She was in Houston for school and, by her admission, just never got around to it because she didn't intend to be there very long. It's worth mentioning that this was a conclusion she came to almost four years ago. She'd accumulated dvds, board games, cds, a flat screen television, a car and a dog. A bed never crossed her mind. Then again, I can go months without ever changing the batteries in my smoke alarm (as evident by the constant beep in my home), so maybe I'm being judgmental. Spending the night at her place (which she wanted me to do constantly) was problematic because her floor was not comfortable or designed for sleep. It was cold and itchy. Also, it was not practical for cuddling which she insisted upon. You think your arm goes numb with a woman laying on it in bed. Try this on a carpet that feels like those scratchy metal things you scrub dishes with. This led to me being strategic about how many times a week I slept over.

Eventually, she moved back to Austin and found herself a nice boyfriend, so we let things end that way with amicable goodbyes and well wishes. We don't keep in touch as often as either of us would like, but we check in from time to time. If two close friends subscribed to each other's social networking accounts don't communicate at some point, it's because they like it that way. A couple of nights ago, I was up late writing and noticed that, according to a post on her Facebook account, she was upset about something. Even now, I don't know exactly what the source of the problem was. I reached out to her via inbox message to see if everything was okay. The following conversation ensued:

Me: What's the matter?

Her: Life sucks sometimes.

Me: Well, that's true, but I meant a bit more specific. Is it about the interview you had coming up? Did that fall through?

Her: No, that went fine. Just lonely.

Me: I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure it's not any sort of consolation, but Im having a similar moment.

Her: Oh. Sorry.

Me: Eh. These things happen. I'd come stay up with you if I were there and watch Blade Runner.

Her: Then I would have to get up and take you home. You would be doing me no favors.

Me: I meant I'd stay the night.

Her: Yeah. Right.
I know it's common advice not to read emotion into digital communication without clarification, but I know this woman. That was meant to sound exactly like it seemed. Sarcastic, dismissive and slightly condescending. I presented the situation to one of my cohorts and she replied "Well, she's probably still salty because you two didn't end up together." Really? For the purposes of this entry, I'm going to glaze over the fact that she HAS A BOYFRIEND and hope that the fact I put it in caps conveys my confusion appropriately. Besides, there's a larger point to make here.

Let's say she'd been stabbed. Don't worry about the reason. It doesn't matter why. In the era of long range rifles and drone bombings, there's no good reason to stab someone. She's stabbed and bleeding in the street. Onlookers start to panic, dialing 911, calling for help. It just so happens that I see her, my old dear friend, as I pass by and I have some medical training in this area that could save her life (I really don't). I rush over and ensure everyone I can help. Does "If you don't intend to be with me, don't bother saving me" really amount to any incarnation of rational sense?

I have friends (although this is an frequently circulated ideology) who submit that people you're not in a relationship with "don't owe you anything." The few men I associate with would have you believe that unless you seek to make a woman your mate, she doesn't deserve to know you. "Deserve?" Is spending the rest of your life fucking and going to the movies with the same person really the highest premium we can possibly put on our treatment of our fellow man (or woman)? We can't teach our children to be the best they can be...."unless it's someone you're just fucking. Then, you just leave the money at the door and bounce." At what juncture did life come to revolve around an "all or nothing" death race to the altar?

How did we get to a point where we glorify monogamy so effortlessly that we vilify those who don't adhere to its principles? Put simply, if I want to have sex, it's not because I view women as objects. It's because I like sex. If I choose not to commit (which I am open and honest about), it's not because I hate women. It's because monogamous relationships carry certain burdens I choose not to have in my private life at this time. I can only speak for myself, but if I go to the store after a rendezvous, I'm going to ask if she'd like anything. If we sleep together and I'm hungry, I'm going to ask if she's hungry. I submit that we cannot spend so much time trying to adequate mates that we reject ourselves. It's totally okay to be a significant other AND a real human being.

Of course, bleeding on the floor sounds fun, too.