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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/297063-Canada-Day-Blues-rated-M-for-Mature
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Rated: ASR · Book · Spiritual · #135312
Who are we? Where are we going? Should we even care?
#297063 added July 4, 2004 at 1:30am
Restrictions: None
Canada Day Blues (rated M for Mature)
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being human and alive? Being conscious is another thing entirely, but most of all I hate being inside this bag of flesh.

To be honest, I'm not that great looking. Too much computer, I guess. And genetics. And upbringing. It's all a huge cornucopia of laziness. So, naturally, I feel kinda bad that I can't get girls. But I've gotten over that, for the most part. I have developed some control, after all.

When I was younger, I can admit to being horny a lot of the time. Most adolescent boys are. Now, though, I don't feel that way so much. I still like to look at pretty girls. How could I not?

The problem is my friend. I must admit that he's better looking, stronger, and faster than me. In his areas of expertise, he's nearly a master. He's no idiot by any stretch of the imagination, but he lacks logic sometimes. Unfortunately, I still look to him as a leader and he follows my advice less and less. As the years have gone by, I understand him less and less.

Take this past Canada Day for instance. It took us an hour to find a bar that he liked. He wanted one that: wasn't too crowded, wasn't too empty, had no lineup, and had lots of girls. And his own whim on what kind of bar he wanted changed every few minutes. He named a bar, we walked through the crowds, he'd point out every good looking girl that passed by and describe the ways he'd have sex with her (interrupting sentences being spoken by myself and my other friend), we'd arrive at the bar, and discover that he doesn't want to go in anymore for one of the above reasons. Sure, I don't want to wait in line either and I do want a table, so half the time I agreed with him to leave. When we did find a place with a free table, he didn't want to go in because it wasn't populated with enough women. This seemed to defy logic and I explained it to him, "A bar full of hot women will also have a proportionate amount of men in it. This is make it crowded and there will be no seats. Also, since it's a popular place, more people will want to get inside, creating a line. And you don't want to wait in line and you don't want to have to stand." It wasn't until thirst got the better of him that we actually went back to the place with the free table.

Once we decided to leave and find a better bar, we were without a home for two more hours as he rejected bar after bar after bar for ludicrious reasons. Now, as I've said, I'm not the thinnest, fittest, or even in the army, so maybe I didn't enjoy walking aimlessly in the sun for several hours like they professed to. What's wrong with wanting to sit down, have a cold beer, and watch the ladies pass by where we're sitting. Not to mention have a nice conversation. Not good enough for him. He wants to get laid. Again, logic doesn't enter his mind. "Girls walking on the crowded street have places to go. They don't want to stop and talk, neither will you stop or talk to any girl you deem to be 'hot'. By wasting time choosing a bar, you've limited how many girls you can talk to before the end of the night. Also, your bitching about how much you want a beer is pissing me off."

Nothing. Not to mention that he's bloody paranoid about being caught rolling a joint in a goddamn alley. I suppose it's reasonable, since he could get in a lot of trouble if he's caught, being in the army and all, but if he'd followed the original plan instead of changing it, like he always done, it would not have been a problem. I'm not a leader. I'm an advisor. I'm flexible, to a limit. I was getting very close to saying "Screw you. I'm going in this bar, getting a drink, and rolling a smoke." He spent so much time finding the 'perfect bar' that he passed up perfectly good bars.

But that I can live with. It's his constant girl-chasing and intense lust that I don't understand. Sure, I want to get laid too, but at least I'm reasonable about it. Hell, it's probably because I've given up hope completely. So every time he felt the need to point out a hot girl, forcing the animal in me to swivel my neck to look, only to either not see her or make an ass of myself by doing it, I told him "Well, if she's so hot, why don't you talk to her?"

I mean, he's got all these stories that he tells me when he gets back from training, etc. Hell, he had some even before he left. Personally, I've never met either of his girlfriends, nor seen any proof that he was ever with anyone. I've half a mind to think he makes it all up. I mean, when he is lusting after girls here, I've never ever seen him successfully talk to a girl, let alone kiss one.

And it's pissing me off. For all the time he spends dragging us along to find the perfect, female-laden, bar, he could have been sitting down, enjoying a beer, and eye-balling them from there. Because, let's face it, it's not like he's ever going to get up and talk to one of them unless he's already drunk. Hell, I wasn't prepared to approach random girls until after we *finally* had a good amount of beer and THC in us.

But it's clear that his definition of a 'good time' involves getting head from some girl he doesn't even know and getting drunk off his ass. Mine involves relaxing (since we did do a lot of walking) in a bar, having a beer, and having a nice conversation with my friends. Frankly, I'm not thinking about sex. Why should I think about something that I have no hope of getting? And isn't it a better feeling to leave entertained than frustrated because a bunch of girls rejected your drunken advances? I mean, I want to smack this guy because he can't stop thinking with his penis.

The same thing happens other times he shows up. We get to the bar and I catch up with the friends I haven't seen a while and all I hear from his is how there aren't many girls here. Then he drags us on mission to find a bar with lots of girls.

Frankly, I'm not surprised that all the encounters he's told me about (that weren't just petting, etc)were with escorts and drunken sluts. I mean, do most men have libidos that make them go insane with lust all the time? I can't imagine what it'd be like to want it so badly all the time.

I suppose if I was getting some too, that I'd want it as often as I could. Of course, as I said before, I have too work too damn hard for it. Attractive men, even him, don't have to do much more than show up and say 'hello' before equally horny and drunken girls are throwing themselves on him. It's a party after all, and I'm not invited.

Maybe I hate it because I'm jealous of not getting it, but is it really the be-all end-all of human physical pleasure? If only he would shut up about it for a while and not bitch about how boring it is without a bunch of girls around (that aren't even interested in him, for Chirst's sake). It makes him look hypocritical to me, since we'd be doing pretty much thing he'd invited me over to do anyway: listen to music, play games, drink beer, watch movies.

What I'd like to see his a real conversation with him. And, if he actually sees a girl he wants to talk to, excuses himself and goes over there and talks to her. Sure, I might be a bit annoyed that he left suddenly, while we were talking, but I can understand it if he wants to get laid. We all do sometimes. It's when he feels the need to interrupts me, other people, and even himself, constantly to point out girls or to make crude remarks about them. Go talk to them, if you want it so badly! "Don't tell me how hot they are; I don't care. Go over there and tell her yourself; maybe she'll care," I tell him.

And I don't care. Sure, pretty girls are nice to look at, but I have no illusions about what would happen if I went over there. So I look and forget about it. After all, I value conversation too... much more than him, it seems sometimes.

All in all, I can say that Canada Day was ruined because my friend's penis got in the way.


"I can't imagine a God who would care."
"I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid."
Bishop, Aliens
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