Why I...Irrationally love female versions of myself. (Part 1)

I’m a romantic at times, that's fine I guess, there are plenty of those going around as far as I know.

But being a cynical fuck too? That’s not a skill, that’s an art form…

Actually no I guess that’s pretty common as well.

Let me tell you a story young travellers, it’s about a person only moderately close to my own heart. Me.

I’m mildly repellent at the best of times; you may have picked this up already.

But after what I’m about to share this I may become even more so clear.

Love for a guy like myself when mentioned directly, is a notion that in theory may seem great at times, like mostly in the beginning. But the unfortunate reality is when I battle to think of it or on the rare occasion I say the word in the “romantic love” sense normally the first things I think up are uncomfortable notions of commitment, awkward forced valentine’s gifts (outside of the bedroom) and possibly witnessing more Hugh Grant or John Cusack movies than I care to admit to.

When you’re struggling to sit through “Must love dogs” and it’s just as a vacuous as it sounded before and your one superseding thought is hoping someone buys a pit bull and is mauled to death just so the movie would finish you know you’re not in healthy relationship.

 

My point is, or is going to be, cause I haven’t got to it yet, where this initially well intentioned clear-cut notion of love mainly falls down for men like me (alcoholics) is when you don’t know someone well enough and you start to assume things about them. In my case, usually for the better unfortunately.

And as I’m sure you’ll find if I write enough of these, there is nothing worse a person can do than assuming the best of people.

Especially hipsters. Those fucking hipsters.

Now to my story.

For Example: I called someone a “Honey glazed ham” as an insult few weeks ago (as one does) while slovenly out and about, and a girl I had never seen or met before made a slight Homer Simpson “mmm” noise, this amused me.

I like this in a woman for some reason. 

The conclusion I came to, based on this very short exchange of ideas, some would say “moment” that we had together was when she mmm-ed at my ham if you will, was that she “got it” (Another concept I’m sure I’ll explain at some stage also).

And so based on this, the fact that she had amused me and so effortlessly once already meant somehow that in my mind there were several neighbourhoods of amusement just waiting to be explored with this complete stranger.

Needless to say that’s the best it got.

Her name was Sasha she talked about her entirely inaccurate attire related issues searching for compliments and shit; there were several reasons why I lost interest but the moral of the story is…

If I’m shallow/stupid enough to find someone attractive in a split second, for something like a funny noise, then doesn’t it seem logical that I’m also just as likely to do the same thing the other way and potentially not like someone for something just as minor? For example- Liking Nickelback.

(Note-: Liking Nickelback is not a minor issue)

-That’s rhetorical neither of us have to answer that, this isn’t a test, so relax.

Although I didn’t ask about Nickelback, But that’s not the point. I had a point…?

Oh yes, this interaction for some reason abruptly and ruthlessly turned into an audition as most meetings with strangers for me become.

This is one of the many very large, highly conspicuous street signs along the road towards ultimate failure with people.

Visually things were not “wrong way go back”, she was pleased and not making that look of I’m going to fallaciously smile and pleasantly say that I’m going to the bathroom or to over to my friends and never ever voluntarily speak to you ever again in my life. So that was good.

If anything the look was more of excitement and thankfully for me, one of I would much rather lick, snort or swallow the many possible illicit or otherwise substances on/in you right now rather than to announce it to the bar or the police standing there.  (Who I guess had fuelled this train of thought via my paranoia when rubbing my nose) 

I just remembered that. Slightly irrelevant.

But anyway, an ever-increasing vacant space was developing due to, as a Sony record executive would call it “A lack of cross over potential” or “A lack of star quality aspects”. She wasn’t for me, and the moment she laughed boisterously at something I actually wasn’t making a witty quip about and was being serious about I knew the bar was the next and only thing I wanted from anyone at that moment. Exit stage right.

So to go over, the moment things turn into an audition or in someway a struggle, or a battle of anything, besides equal or near equal wits, you’ve lost. Both of you, losers. Well mostly her.