Thursday, April 29, 2010

There is Absolutely Nothing Wrong With Me...but the Rest of You are Highly Suspect!

I'm over 40. I drink. I fuck. I eat.

Three out of those 4 are really easy, and the last one just requires a little more effort....or on the odd weekend money, or just a trip to Vegas. But the point is that anything you find easy is obviously a talent.

Getting older is like stumbling down a hill during a blackout. You don't remember where or why things started hurting, but you know you must've fucked up somewhere, because suddenly they do.

So I have a talent for these things, which is not to say I'm good at them, just that I find them easy.

But the first thing...the first thing is taking it's toll.

At the risk of sounding like an old guy, I have trouble after spicy foods now. Don't ask. Believe me . . . you don't want to know. I rarely dig into a pile of hot wings anymore. The guy at Wing Zone once insisted I taste the Atomic sauce before he would serve it to me. I didn't break a sweat. It was a matter of pride. Besides, I'd eaten hotter. I'd once had a curry in India that had me speechless and breathless. I'm serious. I literally could not take a breath. I was crying, sweating and in pure heaven. And it wasn't that kind of bullshit Habanero hot either that's all burn and no flavor. This curry not only delivered the internal core temperature of the Sun into my mouth, but it was fucking delicious.

And then one day, what went in hot, came out hot. And spicy food was no fun anymore.

But I can still drink. Except. . . .

Well, I used to buy the cheapest beer and sneered at the idiots that paid more 3.99 for a 12 pack because...hello! This beer was cheap as shit and you got just as drunk. Now, I only buy nice wines, and imported beer. Give me a glass or two of wine and I'm nodding off halfway through Gray's Anatomy.

Okay, I don't really watch Gray's Anatomy, but you get the idea. Then there was the morning I woke up and realized I'd been so drunk I'd almost driven off a bridge, and that somehow in my drunken state, I'd managed to change the tire I'd popped on the bridge railing.

That was about the time I decided to start sleeping in my car instead of driving. Now I only drink at home, and only every now and then. It's so pathetic that I rarely even drink in the mornings anymore, because, y'know, you lose the whole day, and after working all week, my fucking weekends are fucking precious! I don't want to spend the whole day drunk and sleeping it off. I'd rather go to Home Depot or Bed, Bath, and Beyond to buy new towels!!!!!!

Sad, but true. You never really own a house; it owns you.

Okay, on to the last subject: fucking.

In High School, with my first "sexual" girlfriend, I actually got off 5 times in the span of just a couple of hours.

That doesn't happen anymore. Which is not to say I don't like getting off and don't have some advanced ideas of what sex can be--the more intense, the better--but afterward, I actually want to talk, and giggle, tickle, and do stupid things, and say stupid things.

I'm pretty sure as men get older, they turn into women. I'm also reasonably sure women turn into men.

I rarely have to make the first move anymore. Really. Okay, I still have to get the phone number and follow up. I still have to pay for the date, for the most part, though the cool girls offer to pay a little here and there. But when it comes to the first kiss, the first naked romp through Hineyland, all I have to do is sit back and let the girl drive the tour bus.

It's. fucking. beautiful.

Women my age are much more comfortable with sex. They like it from behind. They want me on top. They want my hand up in their hair, pulling their head back so I can forcefully nibble on their neck, though they are quick to warn me against leaving any visible marks. Read that as "visible" marks. Women my age are fun. they're breasts aren't exactly perky anymore, but their spirits are sure as hell free.

Sometimes I think the only thing I've got going for me is that I don't smoke, then I start thinking maybe I should try a trip to Amsterdam and re-visit getting stoned. Sometimes I think I've got cancer and should go ahead and start growing marijuana. Sometimes I dream about that really really really really really really spicy bowl of curry I had, but can't have anymore. Sometimes I wish my dick was just a tad more erect for just a tad longer. I don't miss cheap beer, but I miss the times and the guys I used to drink it with.

On the plus side, I'm getting really good at Left 4 Dead 2. Look for me, I'm Bad Teddy. I will save your ass if I'm not playing drunk.

Read the damn comic.

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