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Thinking |
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This show is usually fun. Oh, sometimes it's a pain in the ass. Like when I'm scared or have nothing to say, when I feel like I'm wasting my time and yours and I'm being boring or not very entertaining. But more often than not it's thrilling, doing this here little show. Sometimes I think it's time to throw in the old towel. But then I begin to think how much I'll miss it - they say you never miss something until it's gone - or maybe I'm just being maudlin. I don't know. But as I sit here tonight I can say that this show has become such a part - this feels so natural to me, to be here talking into this microphone, like something I was born to do - and Lord knows, there isn't much I can say that about. And you people are like friends to me - those of you who aren't mental cases or idiots, that is - and I genuinely look forward to hanging out with you. See, last year was pretty sucky. I've lost friends and done stupid things and sometimes it feels that those of you listening out there are all I have, the only people whom I still matter to. Am I being vain if I say that, if I say that I'd like to think I matter to someone? This show has taken many twists and turns over the years and many of you have hung in there, perhaps out of morbid curiosity - "Gee, I wonder what stupid thing Chris will say next." - perhaps out of loyalty, perhaps, just perhaps, because you like me. Come on, there has to be one or two of you. See, lately I haven't been feeling very likable. I feel old and stupid and useless and washed up too much of the time. (This is where those of you who are made nervous and uncomfortable by this sort of thing switch over to All Things Considered" or whatever the hell else you listen to when I get too personal). I feel, lately, like I'm standin' on the curb watching the parade go by, you know, the rich tapestry of life passes before me and all I can do is watch. I'm not really participating. It's just that I've come to realize some real important things about life lately. These are basic things, things you probably got around to years ago but I - with my serious case of arrested development - have only recently convinced myself of. One of those things (and maybe I should have a real big fanfare before I say this) is: friends are extremely important. No one should be without them. There. I said it. And the second big revelation I've made is that I'm tired of being alone. And by that I mean I'm tired of not being involved with someone. I mean, I've had it with myself. When I'm at home there's just me and frankly, it's boring and unnatural to be by yourself all the time. Think about it. Being alone is not really a natural state. We're social animals, we always have been. As cavemen and women we huddled around the fire and joined together into little bands, gravitated toward each other so we could help each other out, learn from each other, protect each other. That kind of crap. And we got into even smaller units, one on one units, so we could procreate and raise a child. And then this "love thing" became a big deal because human infants are so helpless - I mean, what about the fontanelle? - and its chances of survival are so slim that this whole monogamy industry came about just to see to it that the kid survives. Because children raised by two parents traditionally have a much better chance of surviving to puberty. And someone wrote a love song and next thing you know there were cards and flowers and chocolates and diamond rings and "Do you take this man?" and all that. And it feels like a conspiracy sometimes. Like all the shacked up and involved and married people in the world are doing it right and I'm doing it wrong. Don't misunderstand me, it's not like I'm delusional and don't know there are plenty of unhappy couples out there. I know divorce is almost as big a racket as monogamy - hell, I come from a broken home. It's just that it seems like such a biological imperative to cleave to another that I feel like I am an evolutionary aberration for not having done so yet. Know what I mean? Whenever I'm around my shacked up or involved or married friends I feel like they're superior life forms, for chrissakes. And it's nothing they're doing to make me feel that way. I'm not so paranoid as to believe that they're together just to make me feel more alone (I would be asking for you to pray for me if that were the case) it's just that I know they're doing important work. They've thrown their lot in with someone else and decided to make a go of it despite the odds and despite one or another's foul moods, horrible snoring, vindictive temper, substance abuse, smelly feet or what have you. They've decided that - as difficult as it may be at times - there is something vital and important about being with another. I mean, how are you supposed to learn about yourself if not through someone who knows everything there is to know about you? More than your parents, even? You can learn a lot about yourself through rabid introspection, sure. But it will only get you so far. Because we all have things about ourselves we don't want to come to terms with. And we all have things about ourselves - good things, mind you - that we can't see. I really believe this - and you can call me a fool (I've been called much worse in just the last few months) but I really believe this: it's only through another, through a person who's opinion matters to you, someone you've chosen above all others, that you can truly learn about yourself. I'm not saying that this other person, whoever he or she may be, should change you - because I think we all want to be accepted as we are - but that this other person can and should help you see yourself clearly, learn about yourself, so you can - god help me for saying this - grow, if you care to. And lately I've been feeling like I need to grow. Grow up, I mean. I've kinda come to the limit of know thyself. Oh sure, there are many things about myself with which I am happy - but there are other things - and I could list them for you but you probably already know what they are - that I feel could be changed. But - and this is something I've noticed about myself which I'm reluctant to say about other people: this growing up I need to do, this going beyond what I already know about myself, will only come about because I am a social animal and care what others think about me. This ain't easy for me to admit. I've spent so many years thinking I didn't care, thinking it doesn't matter what someone else thinks. But ultimately, it does. And I guess I don't want to be so afraid of changing, of growing, that I avoid - and here is something else I kinda gag on when I say it - intimacy (and I guess that's what we're really talking about here). I mean, if I thought I could be comfortable being alone then what's the point of growing up, really? See, lots of people say they're comfortable with being alone but they're either A) lying or B) not really alone. Look, if you can be with someone and choose not to be, you're not really alone, as far as I'm concerned - you're just not seizing whatever opportunities come your way, that's all. Maybe when the opportunities end you'll feel it, you'll feel what it's like. Personally, I seize whatever opportunities come my way. I ask women out, I allow myself to be asked out, hell, I even had a three month relationship last year (I screwed it up largely because I hadn't yet had this revelation I'm telling you about now). But lately the opportunities have dried up. Oh sure, I've gone out on dates but they all end the same lately: with the offering of a friendship as a consolation prize. It's like "Let's Make A Deal": "Oh, I'm sorry - you didn't win the relationship behind door number one but we're sending you home with this brand new friendship". I don't mean to sound harsh. These women, and I'm sure they all have perfectly valid reasons for not wanting anything more than a friendship ("I'm not ready right now," "I'm romantically unavailable," "I don't feel that way about you," "I just got out of a relationship") are just being as kind as they know how to be. But the end result is always the same. And what I said earlier - about not really being alone if you can be with someone and just choose not to - means you can't know what it's like to be alone until you have no choice in the matter. When being alone is thrust upon you, without your consent, then you'll know what I'm talking about. Because all that other stuff I said earlier - about being alone not being a natural state - I ain't just saying it: I believe it. And everything in this society reinforces it. Every time you turn on the radio or see a billboard or watch TV or hear about friends getting married or having a kid or people doing things together, you are processing the message that's it not okay or desirable or natural to be alone. Can all these messages be wrong? Can it really be a monstrous plot? And if it is all a plot, if we are the receiving end of a hideously perfected campaign, than maybe, just maybe, I am taking a revolutionary stance by remaining steadfastly alone. Maybe being alone means being one of a thousand singular vanguards, each separated from the other by the very nature of their being, each afraid of each other for the same reason, advancing steadily toward the goal of ultimate world unhappiness by the millenium a goal toward which we are wholeheartedly progressing. But I don't want to be part of that camp. I'm tired of being by myself, for chrissakes. I do want to settle down, make a home, all that crap. I used to think that was all crap. I thought it was quaint. Geez, maybe I thought so once but with advancing years comes retreating disbelief. I'm coming over to the "it's-better-to-be-involved-than-to-be-alone" camp. I'm coming to think that it's pretty important. I just don't know how to get there. I seem to have lost the skills involved in getting someone to like me, you know, in that special way. And it's downright frustrating to be offered friendships when you want to be special to someone, feel like you mean more somehow. Is any of this making any sense? I've talked about this kind of thing before my show and, frankly, it always scares me. Because you're not supposed to talk about this. If you're single you're not supposed to admit to not liking it. Because people will accuse you of being lonely and being lonely is like a crime to most people. People, friends, will warn you to never admit to it because it smells of desperation and we all know desperation is not attractive. Whatever it may be, it certainly isn't considered attractive. No, the way single people are always told they should act is confident. Confidence is supposed to be very attractive, very sexy. But the hardest trick in the world is to act in a way you don't actually feel. I know, I act confident all the time, well, on dates anyway. I - and you have to just believe me on this - don't allow any hint of desperation to creep in to the goings on because I know how terrible it's supposed to be, how unappealing it's supposed to be. But I get kinda tired of the charade. Sometimes I want to go on a date and just say, "Oh please, please, please give me a shot. I swear I'll be good to you and show you a good time and always be kind and considerate and attentive." But I restrain myself. Well, one of the places I don't have to be restrained is here on my own show. I can do or say whatever the hell I want, as long as it's within FCC guidelines. And sometimes I want to just rip away the veneer I maintain that I am okay as I am, that I am just fine being a bachelor. But I worry about all those involved people and those single folks with a stiff upper lip looking down on me. I just know that when I go the phones someone out there will take me to task, ridicule me, tell me to shut the hell up and stop complaining. And those people and what they think can be really oppressive. And what's even worse are the well-meaning folks who will offer pity or feel superior. But if being honest with you means opening myself up to ridicule, well so be it. I mean, I'll admit it - you folks out there trying to maintain relationships, make things work out, you know - get along - you're doing much more difficult work than I'll ever do. I admire you for it. No, really. I'd love to see what life is like on your side of the fence. But it's been so long since I've been invited over to your side of the fence. I mean - is it me or is no one screwing for god's sake? If someone will actually call and tell me - wow, that would be ginchy. And meanwhile I'll have a little drinky-poo - of water, of course - and I'll be back after this musical interlude. Emphasis on "lude". One of the staff members here said I should take out a personal ad. And I should see what happens and talk about whatever dates might arise. I think it's a great idea but don't really know how to get underway with it. I know how much dating sucks, how horrible it is and how terrible it is to be rejected and go out there and try again and again. And sometimes I really want to chuck it all and say "to hell with it, I ain't trying no more". But there is life in me yet and hope springs eternal and all that (though someone whose opinion I respect said the secret is to give up hope, to become comfortable with the feeling that it's useless to try. I'm trying to do that, Lord knows. But I fight against it constantly). But what do you think? I mean, about placing a personal ad? Has anyone out there ever met any success with an ad? Do you feel disgust at the very idea? I know a friend from long ago who met his wife through an ad. And maybe that's what got me thinking about all this. But, in all honesty, I peruse those ads and they always make me feel more hopeless, not less. They're either really bald-faced and mercenary or terrible sincere and kinda sad. Does anyone tell the truth in those things? And what would mine say? I'm not saying I'd place one, but what would it say? Any ideas? "Women say men don't know what they want. Well, I'm 35, single, white and I think I finally do. I seek one woman who: is near or around my age (3 years either direction is fine), has no sacred cows, is whip-smart (I thrive on multi-layered conversation), independent (no longer living at home), opinionated (tells me when I'm full of shit), lives in the moment ("Say - let's jump in the car and drive to Baltimore!), can hold her liquor ( a shared hangover can really cement a relationship), smokes (though, like me, she's trying to quit), doesn't believe in God (and thinks Satan is good, clean fun), isn't going to try to get me to walk on the beach (I hate walking on the beach), who feels the color black is the basic building block of any wardrobe (and whose own wardrobe includes a few skirts), likes all kinds of music EXCEPT the top 40 (my current car cassettes are "Funhouse", "Rain Dogs", "Murder Ballads", "Clockwork Orange", "Carmina Burana" and "Pet Sounds"), likes to read (on the nightstand now: "The Blind Watchmaker"), loves movies (recent favorite: "Secrets and Lies"), is quirky-pretty (not pretty-pretty), thinks sex is a wonderful thing (not an occasion for guilt or remorse or conflict), and, most importantly, eases the underlying pain of life with an absolutely killer (fairly dark) sense of humor. I don't care if said woman never cooks or cleans or wants to drop a critter (though I'm not opposed to dropping a critter and think I'd be a pretty damn good dad). What can I offer in exchange? In addition to all the basic stuff above (I have no skirts and am quirky-handsome, not quirky-pretty) I am handy around the house, play the guitar, make an okay living (though I doubt I'll ever be rich), could stand to lose forty pounds (but may never), am very passionate (but not ruled by testosterone), and have been through enough bullshit in my life to feel I deserve something good and true. This may be my age speaking but what I want is a companion and confidante who can give and accept (gulp) love (God, how I HATE saying that!). So if any of this resounds with you (or if you just like parentheses) call me before I say "fuck it all" and move to Alaska. Thank you and goodnight." |
