You Can't Go Back

During his Emmy-award win­ning per­for­mance, Kill the Messenger, Chris Rock had a hilar­i­ous bit on the dif­fer­ences between men and women. He sums it up suc­cinct­ly:

Women can­not go back­wards in lifestyle. Men can­not go back­wards sex­u­al­ly.

An exam­ple he uses for women is the first time they get into a nice, warm car after club­bing, wav­ing bye to their friends who are wait­ing for the bus in the cold. After that, they can’t be with a man who does­n’t have a car, or as Rock puts it, “That’s how the fuck you roll for the rest of your life”. This extends to guys with their own places, then guys who take them on vaca­tion.

On men, he says, “Once we get the sex we like, that’s how the fuck we roll. I like my cof­fee like this, I like my steak like this, and I like to fuck like this…Ladies, don’t get mad at us. Get mad at our ex-girl­friends. She’s the one that [sic] spoiled it for every­body” because if your ex-girl­friend licks your ass, you expect your cur­rent girl­friend to do the same.

For me, the same is true for girls in gen­er­al, but not just in these aspects. I can’t be with a girl who refus­es to try exot­ic foods or refus­es to give uncon­ven­tion­al music a chance, who would­n’t rec­og­nize the effort I put into my presents, who would­n’t cher­ish the love and affec­tion I give, who would­n’t under­stand me, or would­n’t laugh at my stu­pid jokes, because I’ve been with girls who are a com­bi­na­tion of open-mind­ed, appre­cia­tive, roman­tic, on the same wave­length as me, and actu­al­ly find me fun­ny (when not com­plete­ly awk­ward).

That's why this entire idea scares me.

I know most peo­ple get more flex­i­ble on things about their mates as they head towards (or beyond) the mar­ry­ing age but I seem to be mov­ing the oppo­site direc­tion. Each girl I’ve been with has been an improve­ment over the last. Now the bar has been raised so damn high I don’t think I’ll ever get there again, and I’d rather be alone than com­pro­mise or set­tle.

My stan­dards are get­ting high­er, and I can’t go back.

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Holiday 09-10

A few moments from the past hol­i­day, which has been love­ly, if a lit­tle hec­tic. I’m cur­rent­ly wind­ing down from all the extra stim­u­la­tion, but feel­ing good and recharged.

Bloodletting

Dying is an art, like every­thing else. I do it excep­tion­al­ly well.

—Sylvia Plath

I’m in a tran­si­tion phase. Living in self-destruc­tion. Building tol­er­ances to all the wrong things. Picking my scabs. Shedding skin. Killing a lit­tle bit of myself every day.

Trying to get it all out of my sys­tem.

Autopilot

Cohen and MacBook Pro

I’m cur­rent­ly on autopi­lot. Doing with­out think­ing, and just being.

It’s a strange feel­ing because I’ve been try­ing to get to this lev­el where I’m no longer con­scious of try­ing to be at this lev­el1. It’s a recur­sive night­mare. But now that I’ve been here for a few days, I’m not sure if I like it. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m not used to it, because I feel like I’m miss­ing some­thing, or because I feel way too over­stim­u­lat­ed.

I tried to sched­ule a day of rest, aka me time, aka her­mi­tiz­ing in my house, in between every event, but that did­n’t work out. I won’t have a sin­gle day to myself until the 3rd of January. I was hop­ing for a hol­i­day where I could sit and do noth­ing for two days in a row, just so it’d be like a long week­end at least. I’ve been try­ing to cel­e­brate because I fin­ished my con­tracts ear­ly, but I sup­pose these last few days have been enough of a treat, even if it’s left me with­out any time to with­draw and reflect.

One day I woke up at Darren’s house, went down­stairs, turned on the TV, and Serendipity had just start­ed. I remem­ber watch­ing this gener­ic hol­i­day dri­v­el set in a New York Christmas at Vicky’s house back when I was in uni­ver­si­ty. It was def­i­nite­ly Christmas back then cause I was back home in Toronto, before my par­ents divorced, and we went to house par­ties as a fam­i­ly. It was it’s own lit­tle serendip­i­tous sign, remind­ing me the hol­i­days were here, and I should take it all in for a sec­ond.

  1. Croupier, star­ring Clive Owen, is com­plete­ly based on this idea. Go see it. [↩]