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“I want a woman who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh.  I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on.  And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow.  I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth.  I will do your windows.  I will care about your feelings.  Just have something in there.” –Henry Rollins, from his Shock & Awe spoken word tour

Truer words hath not been spoken.

It’s easier said than done, though.  It’s hard to talk about it without sounding like I’m bragging (maybe because I am, on some level), but I’m a fairly well educated and intelligent fellow.  My music-teacher-turned-librarian mother, aside from teaching me classical music, got me started reading extremely young.  By 5th grade, I was working on Stephen King, and by my senior year of high school there wasn’t a piece of classic literature with which I wasn’t familiar.  No one understood why I loved it so much, why I didn’t take part in more school-sponsored extracurricular activities, why I didn’t attend parties and get stupidly intoxicated, and choose instead to immerse myself in pressed wood pulp and ink.

I read because I want to know what I don’t know.  I want to see humanity and society from different perspectives.  I want to understand you better than you understand yourself, whoever you may be and from wherever you may originate, so that I know exactly how to behave with you.  So I read, and I travel, and I experience everything I can.  I fight tooth and nail to get the world to divulge every secret it wants to keep buried.  I want to wall hump the fuck out of life until it screams for mercy and begs to be set free, because this is what I’ve got, and I’ve got to make the most of it.  And I find it appalling that more people don’t do this, too.  So many people today are comfortable with the status quo.  Everyone is content with mediocrity.  It drives me fucking crazy.

Why am I ranting about this.  Well, I’m glad you asked.  Thanks for taking an active interest in my frustration, by the way.  You’re a good person.

Today, post work, I decided to relax by–you guessed it–going out for a beer!  However, given the fiasco that was my last bar outing (reference the previous post if you’re lost), I thought it would be best if I went with a local to a watering hole of their selection, so I struck up an off-and-on-all-day conversation with a girl working in emergency rescue dispatch.  I think I’ll call her Molly.

Molly is cute.  That’s the best word for it.  A good eight inches shorter than me.  Short brown hair worn in a bob.  Big brown doe eyes.  Just a hint of baby fat around the edges.  Small chest, but a wonderfully round backside.  All wrapped up in trendy American Eagle-inspired attire.  She likes my new Northern Canada beard (it likely isn’t permanent), and she dotes on my recently kicked ass by bringing me ice packs that I didn’t ask for and don’t require, and ibuprofen  that I can’t take because I’m already hopped up on my oh-so-delicious pain pills.  That should have told me something about her.  But I didn’t listen, and my drug-addled mind told me that she would be a great drinking companion.  I invited her for drinks, though I would have a mixture of sweet tea and prescription medication for my cocktail.  She accepted.

Fast forward an hour, and I was someplace I’d never heard of but she swore was “bitchin”.  (That should have told me something else about her.  Damn you delicious drugs.)  Despite my discomfort with it, we talked about my fight at the bar.  Molly focused mainly on the physical nature of the fight–who kicked me, how many of them were there, did I get any good shots in, did it hurt, etc.  Empty, soulless questions.  I tried to shift the conversation to something else, but Molly kept coming back to it, so I answered her questions as politely as I could, though I didn’t particularly enjoy them.   I have no idea who kicked me.  About five or six.  No, I was too busy protecting my vitals and curling my body into the fetal position. Yes, of course it hurt.

I tried shifting the conversation toward other things.  Current events.  Politics.  Science.  Anything intellectually stimulating.  Nothing.  She kept coming back to the fight.  Finally, Molly asked me what happened to the young old lady.  I told her I didn’t know, but that she probably stayed with the guy and took him to the hospital.  Her response:  “Stupid bitch deserves whatever she gets, then.”

Wait……….. what?

I get it coming from a guy who has never experienced abuse.  Not from a girl.  Surely I misunderstood.  I suggested that she was being too harsh, that people in abusive relationships often stay in them, not out of love, but out of fear of reprisal, or self-destructive co-dependence.  The response:  “Whatever.  She’d leave if she wanted to.  She’s just a pussy.”

It was at that point I realize that Molly wasn’t right for me.  I immediately thanked her for a lovely conversation, dropped a $20 on the table, and told her I would catch a cab home.  She looked confused as I left without another word.

I’m not looking forward to the awkward conversation tomorrow, or alternatively, the even more awkward silence.  I should have said something about why I was leaving, but really, why bother?  Would she have understood if I had told her that I found her repulsive?  That as attractive as she may be, there is no breast size large enough, no leg long enough, no pussy tight enough, to make up for being woefully ignorant?  That I would rather my sexual partners be intelligent and average than shallow but pretty?  No, likely she would have accused me of resembling an excretory orifice and called into question the validity of my parents’ marriage, which would have set me to laughing in a heartbeat, given my drug-addled state.  So I simply left, got back to my hotel room, opened my laptop, and decided to share this experience with you.

I want to keep going.  There’s a lot more ranting I can and would like to do.  But after 1000+ words, my bruised knuckles, back, ribs, and head are aching to be placed in a horizontal position, preferably on something soft and squishy.  Thus I am afraid I must retire to the arms of Morpheus.  The blissful vacuum of oblivion awaits.  Pleasant dreams to you all.



  1. Thanks Bimodal. Women really need to hear this kind of stuff. So many are caught up on looks, body size, boobs and butts. Not that these things aren’t important, but they are not the most important things going on. I remember when I realized this. I was in a bar in Munich, talking to a boy with gorgeous blue eyes. We end up having this completely indepth conversation of the existence of god relying on whether mathematics was discovered or created. Half way through the conversation, he stops, looks at me and says, “Do you have any idea how hot you are?” I laughed. He responded something along the lines of “No, I’m serious. I’ve never had these types of conversations with women before…”

    Anyway. Good job walking away. Sometimes a fuck just isn’t worth it. Rarely. But there are those times.

    And I hope you’re feeling better…

  2. Uuugh. You’re killing me, Bi. Seriously. You defend an abused woman, get your ass handed to you, and turn down a hot, ignorant young woman because she’s an intellectual letdown. Do you also leap over tall buildings during lunch breaks?

    Like LSnM said, it’s good to know that men like you, with thoughts and brains like you, really do exist. Seems the ones who are your opposite get a lot of attention. Though, I am proud to say I know men like you in real life, therefore I know you’re not a mirage.

    Wishing you a speedy recovery and a restful night. Day 2 usually hurts the worst. Good luck tomorrow. xx

  3. Poor woman, yeah not your level, dear.. Walking away, I think is the most polite thing to do to her. Har har har. Miss our chat moments @ gmail. Hey hope you’re feeling better now. 🙂

  4. Amen brother.


    PS – Reading, traveling and taking life by the balls are the bomb 😉

  5. That is just soooo cool! Thank you for being discerning about where you stick it!
    That is just soooo lovely to hear!!!

  6. Great post and I love that Rollins quote.

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