Wednesday, May 4, 2011

A Conversation that Didn't Happen

“I like my women just like my favorite music: fast, dark, hard, and complex.”  Pausing for a few seconds to glare into my furrowed brow with these words lingering in the air, Troy took a serious swig of his beer. I had never seen such pseudo-self-confidence and feigned sincerity in someone before.

I decided to challenge Mr. Romeo. “Do you ever stop to consider whether what you want is not what women might want?”

“Okay, who’s talking here—my buddy?  Or someone who has been watching too many Dr. Phil episodes?  I figure, as long as I’m feeding the machine with this bad boy right here,” he responded, tapping his crotch, “the rest is a cakewalk.”

“And what happens when the sex is over?”

“Just a break in the festivities, man.  Look, Terry, what’s eating you?  I’m just bullshittin' you anyway!”

“You are?”

“Well, except the part about fast women and plenty of you know what!”

“That’s all we have been talking about!”

“What’s up, man?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re like…I don’t know. Usually we just bullshit, but you seem like you have something on your mind.”

“Yeah?  Shit, what are you, Oprah?”

“Fuck off.  Don’t turn this back on me.  Seriously.”

“I’m just looking for that connection, you know?  Wait, you don’t know!”

“Ooh.  That hurts, bro.  Contrary to what you might think, I’m a sensitive guy and….”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.  Problem is, my friend, you’re sensitive when it comes to having your own needs fulfilled, less so when it comes to a woman…or so I gather?”

“Is that really what you think?”

“Just a thought.”

“Yeah, well, I disagree.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, however subjective and patently false it might be.”

“What the...?”

“Calm down, dude.  I’m just bullshitting you.”

“It might seem like I'm insensitive to women, at least to you, but...”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're kind of effeminate.  Not a big deal.”

“Just because I'm suggesting that women want more in a relationship than you seem to want?  Shit.”

“I just talk a good game.  I don't know.  My parents divorced when I was young.  Maybe that affected my relationships...”

“Excuse me while I get out my air violin to serenade your 'I'm a misunderstood romantic' lament.”

“Whatever.”  A pregnant moment of silence ensued.  “So you want a deep connection?”

“Yeah.  You know, like a soul mate.”

“Me too.  But don’t tell anyone we had this conversation…or I’ll kick your ass.”

“What conversation?”

“That’s good.”

“Anyway, you were saying something about fast and hard music?”