Imperfectly Perpendicular

Despite what feels earned, actually having a week off when you work full-time while being a full-time graduate student is nearly impossible. But every now and again, I manage to move a few mountains, massage a few numbers, scratch a few backs, pay a few fees, and eureka! However, this victory is qualified by one inescapable factor: my only vacation is spent with family. Specifically, in a house that’s rented on the coast with my Dad’s side of the family. We live together for a week and occasionally do group activities and such.

Not that I don’t love my family – I do love them and am lucky to have them – but I’ve never had someone there to connect with.

I don’t text with any of my cousins. They never ask about me or what’s new. I  inquire about their lives and that’s the full extent of our terse communication. There’s never been a moment of bonding, shared laughter that could endure, or a tacit understanding that our relationship had much merit other than another person to awkwardly talk to at an upcoming funeral. There’s no service provided, no one to miss upon departure, no conversation to pause, no lingering moment to reflect on later, and absolutely nothing to develop.

There isn’t room for me at the cousins table. I poke my head in every now and again to make a presence. If my humor was swift and witty enough, perhaps I could gather some interest when I leave; although, unlikely. Despite being from the same area, we’re vastly different and I was never skilled at infiltrating pre-established social circles, particularly as an old black sheep. Gregarious souls amaze me by being able to magically level the playing field and find a connection anywhere they desire – like the quality of an energetic puppy, winning the love and affection of even the coldest hearts.

This isn’t me.

Related imageSure, I’m a social introvert. More importantly, I do not follow (and am ignorant to) social trends. Nothing about my lifestyle is akin to a hermit (hell, I live in NYC), and yet to my family, I live under a rock.

How do you engage when the discussion is centered around HGTV, TLC, sports, the last baby shower you missed, Ariana Grande, getting wasted, Broadway musicals, queer eye for the straight guy, or which loaf of bread happened to be 10 cents cheaper this week? I’m known to curtail such enthralling topics, and such a destabilization is blasphemous and unwarranted.

Obviously, this doesn’t only apply to family – I’ll never be a big hit at any social engagement. It goes without saying that the blame rests on my shoulders. I don’t mean to delineate excuses but to account for circumstances.

“In loneliness, the lonely one eats himself; in a crowd, the many eat him. Now choose.”

– Friedrich Nietzsche

What’s primarily distressful is being surrounded by people while simultaneously receding within yourself to the point of despondency, which you clumsily attempt to cover up, only to fail, making you feel even more despondent. And this continues throughout the entire week – the only vacation you get and desperately need.

And so, there everyone is; running in stride, perfectly parallel.

And there I am; bumbling, imperfectly perpendicular.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

13 Reasons Why Men Suck (Part 2)

(Part 1 or Part 3)

Let’s get right to it, shall we? Here’s the next batch of self-sexist flaws:

S2.gif8) Sexual development. Statistically speaking, this can be understood as one of the causes of #9 (misunderstanding women). According to a study published by the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality on gender differences, males are not only more prone to masturbation – which remains consistent throughout their lifetimes – but their first sexual experience generally comes from themselves, whereas most females, initially feel sexual pleasure with another person. Consequently, sexual gratification for men – not to mention a plethora of orgasms – precedes any relationship, which renders a diminished cash value in partnership for some young adult men. To be sure, this is a physiological force to be reckoned with. On average, men’s sex drive peaks before 20 years of age, while a women’s will peak between the ages of 30 and 40. The silver lining for my lascivious gender is not having to deal with unwanted and completely unwarranted erections every 15 minutes anymore. How many erections must a teenage boy deal with at a bloody funeral? This is madness!

7) “Be a man!” Ah, the classic fear of being emasculated. Due to our own personal socialization and rigid societal norms, droves of men from countless generations have suppressed childhood trauma or adulthood shortcomings with substances and/or physical activity. Since when did boxing, as opposed to therapy, become the appropriate outlet for emotional distress 5.jpgstemming from an unloving parent? For one thing, the gratification from boxing is – by comparison – immediately felt. There’s quite a lot one can learn from the sport and from themselves but we have a grand tendency to square our vices in indirect ways. This categorical pressure is put on from everyone, which makes it all the more ironic when heterosexual males are emasculated by their female counterparts for not falling into their stereotyped gender roles. We as a society engineered these gender roles and the circumstances of their failure to satisfy our basic human integrity. (This, too, is madness.) Ask yourself, who was more of a manly figure in Fight Club; Pitt or Norton? Quod erat demonstrandum.

6) Having game. How skilled are you at repartee and picking up women? How many partners have you had? Do you fully satisfy her yet leave her begging for more? The desire 6for flattering reputations that precedes you when it comes to attracting partners is undeniable in countless social circles. Consider this, my entire blog is based on my failure to get a single date. I’m not talking about trouble finding “the one” or a “good” girl or attending bad Tinder dates  – on the contrary, this makes up for 90% of all single/dating blogs authored by women (just an observation here). Therefore, it should come as no surprise that any man known for “having game” is revered and exhorted. Otherwise, Jack Nicholson wouldn’t be so infamous for his off-screen self-indulgences.

5) Sports. This kindling is ubiquitously favored for male-to-male relations. It appears as profitable water cooler banter. It’s the fast food lettuce; the degree-lacking weatherman; the cheap champagne in your mimosa; the holiday regift. It’s a instant IN for most men, by far the easiest way to make friends, and if you’re not familiar, prepare for bite-sized abandonment and cold stares from your male acquaintances. If they can’t talk to you about Tom Brady, what can they talk to you about? Literally anything else? That might be too much to handle.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

Image Of Beauty

We spend innumerable hours fixated on lofty ideas that it comes as a great relief – not to mention surprise – to relish in moments of ineffable and tangible beauty. Why is it that we can’t simply frame these mental photographs? The mere attempt to do so would make us all abject, like an actor misplacing his lines on opening night. To truly sink into these ephemeral periods, without the aid of psilocybin, one requires another person to uphold and testify to this feeling of ecstasy. After all, love is a doing word.

I have this image in my head that I can’t shake; something that would soften even the most broad-backed misanthropic pessimist – a role I’m no stranger to. The context of the image can be summed up by a quote from the Metta Sutta. (If you’ve never experienced this objective sentiment, give it time.)

“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world — above, below, and across — unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.” – The Buddha

What I see in this image is nothing but the geographical curvature of a lover’s hip. An intoxicating instrument for lust, no doubt, but in this state, I’m only studying the arc and bow of someone I love, as if I were sketching it down to print. How do the shadows cast depth? Can I smell the oils on her skin? Am I able to mold this image in my mind before grazing my fingers gently over her body? Part of dining out at an upscale restaurant is feasting your eyes on your meal before you actually feast. This is that moment and I intend to seize it to the best of my ability.

hip.jpg

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

Nice Guys vs Bad Guys (what’s really going on)

The question: Why is it that assholes seem to stumble across serendipitous circumstances but soldiers of morality are burdened by sharp vicissitudes of fortune? In other words, what’s with the jerks getting all the luck?

It’s simple; this popular question is one sided. What’s the other side? Attitude. Your run of the mill a-hole has no shame, thus, much less fear. To them, women at bars aren’t revered, beautiful potential love interests but – quite the contrary – drunk bitches who want some D. Hell, they need a man (preferably them) but just don’t know it yet. Now, who is more likely to talk to the cute blonde sipping on her martini when her friend goes to the bathroom? The conscientious guy or the imprudent guy? Whom is less likely to worry about sexual chemistry as they reach to hold the girl’s hand as they go in for a kiss (and not a peck either)?

Single Guy in NYC
Let me tell you a true story to illustrate my point that this has nothing to do with luck. My friend’s roommate, Joe, is known to all his buddies as a tall, slick, although sometimes aloof, character who is seldom comme il faut. He has a unique sense of fortitude when it comes to rejection and, most likely because of this, is respected most by his male friends. Although Joe is currently in an exclusive long term relationship, he ascertained that one woman just wasn’t enough and it was time to get back out on the scene. Without his girlfriend knowing, he signed up for every dating/hookup site in the city and was rewarded with date after date. Simplifying this in one paragraph makes his endeavor seem facile but I assure you his effort was double mine, and I’ve been dateless for close to a year now. This provides him with two advantages, which he is ultimately aware of:

1) Double dipping. Since he has more than one love interest, it doesn’t matter as much if his faithful girlfriend dumps his ungrateful ass.
2) Not only has he reinstated the skill of approaching others but he’s constantly refining it. Most men claim to “lose their touch” after being hastily flung into the single life again. Joe, the a-hole that he is, has circumvented this sentiment.

As I said before in my previous post, chivalry is dead and it deserved to die. To be clear, everyone is to blame; from the girl crying on her nice guy-friend’s shoulder about her jerk boyfriend saying, “I wish I could find someone like you” (but not you, of course) to the guy refusing to open a door for a lady because he hates feminism. What it comes down to is that no one wants somebody with the personality of an area rug nor somebody like Joe (if seeking an exclusive companion). Fear is a crippling hindrance and it seems like the best people I know embrace that oppression, including me. This is why I greatly admire Joe’s incorrigible fortitude. Fighting abjection in the trenches of the single life is not a joy to anyone when you exert so much effort to change your status. Yet, he rolls with the punches, smiles gleefully as he eats dirt then dusts himself off after he rises just to spin the wheel again and again.

All in all, my hat’s off to you Joe. And I hope your lady castrates you with a pair of blunt scissors when she finds out.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC