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Love, Lust, and Snot Cod
Mar. 22nd, 2019 09:44 amMY CAR IS FIXED!
Once again, I can fill my tank with gas and tell the world to kiss my ass!!!!!
###
Also, I did taxes yesterday for one of the prettiest male human beings I have ever set eyes upon. No shit: Idris Elba is his ugly younger brother. I was all agog as I entered his data because he kept fixing me with his incomparably beautiful eyes, smiling shyly, and sharing intimate details of his life under guise of asking me tax advice.
It was an interesting experience.
###
I am done with the Internet dating site.
My preferred way of meeting prospective romantic interests would be at dinner parties given by trusted friends except the only one of my friends who gives dinner parties is L, most of whose friends are in their 70s and 80s.
I am never physically attracted to people my own age.
Though I did have a mild ping! for that animal behavioralist a couple of weeks ago. (He was only in his 50s.) Particularly after he told a story about deep sea fishing: I’d go out and catch a shitload of these really ugly fish. Snot cod! And then, I’d sell them to one of the fishmongers around town, and two hours later, I’d see the fish cleaned and gutted on a big mound of ice in the guy’s front window under a big sign: Chilean Sea Bass.
Well, I don’t know about you, but I am never gonna look at Chilean sea bass the same way again. Snot cod!
The ping! was not much. I registered it floating somewhere beyond the Van Allen belt of the outer reaches of my personality, and it wasn’t enough to deter me from trotting off to bed around 9pm—I love sleep practically more than I love anything else on the planet!
Probably a good thing I trotted off because in the morning, L told me that the animal behavioralist was a Jesus freak, and not only a prosletyst but an evangelist. “He just nattered on and on about getting into a bar fight back when he was still a cop, and how he got arrested and his precinct captain bailed him out, and said, ‘You gotta do something about this, Geoff!’” said Linda. “So, Geoff found Jesus. And now he wants us to find Jesus.”
“But I killed Jesus!” I said brightly. “And also I drink the blood of Christian babies—in between secret cabal meetings with the Rothschilds to centralize the world’s monetary supply!”
I’d known something was up. At some point, the dinner conversation had swerved to What was the worst time of your life, and how did you survive it? and I’d noticed the animal behavioralist, who was sitting directly across the table from me, had wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug and seemed to want to start rocking back and forth.
###
The only other person I was remotely attracted to last year was Abbe, the woman I met at Aimee’s Christmas party. We had one of those incredibly intense, interesting conversations curled up together on one of Aimee’s designer couches while we fed each other crab cakes, and I guess the attraction was mutual because for weeks, Aimee—a Connector in the true Malcolm Gladwell sense—kept trying to lure us back together. But driving to Hudson in the snow? Driving to Woodstock in the snow? No thank you!
###
Then there’s T, a cyber-acquaintance of incredibly long duration. I’ve had a crush on him for years, but he lives very far away. Although I am going to write him a letter today. Recently, we became penpals. Not email penpals but actual penpals with stationery and fountain pens and stamps and shit. In terms of actual personality compatibility, he is the person who comes closest. We have the same sense of humor, the same take on global events and the weird behaviors of our fellow humans.
###
The physical attraction I felt for Abbe and the animal behavioralist were nothing compared to the physical attraction I felt for that beautiful man yesterday, though.
Oh. My. GAWD
Make hot passionate love to me, and I will teach you all about financial literacy, I thought. I will reveal to you the secret ways you can get the City of Poughkeepsie to forgive your past-due property taxes! I will invest in expensive IVF treatments and bear your children!
Next lifetime, perhaps.
Once again, I can fill my tank with gas and tell the world to kiss my ass!!!!!
###
Also, I did taxes yesterday for one of the prettiest male human beings I have ever set eyes upon. No shit: Idris Elba is his ugly younger brother. I was all agog as I entered his data because he kept fixing me with his incomparably beautiful eyes, smiling shyly, and sharing intimate details of his life under guise of asking me tax advice.
It was an interesting experience.
###
I am done with the Internet dating site.
My preferred way of meeting prospective romantic interests would be at dinner parties given by trusted friends except the only one of my friends who gives dinner parties is L, most of whose friends are in their 70s and 80s.
I am never physically attracted to people my own age.
Though I did have a mild ping! for that animal behavioralist a couple of weeks ago. (He was only in his 50s.) Particularly after he told a story about deep sea fishing: I’d go out and catch a shitload of these really ugly fish. Snot cod! And then, I’d sell them to one of the fishmongers around town, and two hours later, I’d see the fish cleaned and gutted on a big mound of ice in the guy’s front window under a big sign: Chilean Sea Bass.
Well, I don’t know about you, but I am never gonna look at Chilean sea bass the same way again. Snot cod!
The ping! was not much. I registered it floating somewhere beyond the Van Allen belt of the outer reaches of my personality, and it wasn’t enough to deter me from trotting off to bed around 9pm—I love sleep practically more than I love anything else on the planet!
Probably a good thing I trotted off because in the morning, L told me that the animal behavioralist was a Jesus freak, and not only a prosletyst but an evangelist. “He just nattered on and on about getting into a bar fight back when he was still a cop, and how he got arrested and his precinct captain bailed him out, and said, ‘You gotta do something about this, Geoff!’” said Linda. “So, Geoff found Jesus. And now he wants us to find Jesus.”
“But I killed Jesus!” I said brightly. “And also I drink the blood of Christian babies—in between secret cabal meetings with the Rothschilds to centralize the world’s monetary supply!”
I’d known something was up. At some point, the dinner conversation had swerved to What was the worst time of your life, and how did you survive it? and I’d noticed the animal behavioralist, who was sitting directly across the table from me, had wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug and seemed to want to start rocking back and forth.
###
The only other person I was remotely attracted to last year was Abbe, the woman I met at Aimee’s Christmas party. We had one of those incredibly intense, interesting conversations curled up together on one of Aimee’s designer couches while we fed each other crab cakes, and I guess the attraction was mutual because for weeks, Aimee—a Connector in the true Malcolm Gladwell sense—kept trying to lure us back together. But driving to Hudson in the snow? Driving to Woodstock in the snow? No thank you!
###
Then there’s T, a cyber-acquaintance of incredibly long duration. I’ve had a crush on him for years, but he lives very far away. Although I am going to write him a letter today. Recently, we became penpals. Not email penpals but actual penpals with stationery and fountain pens and stamps and shit. In terms of actual personality compatibility, he is the person who comes closest. We have the same sense of humor, the same take on global events and the weird behaviors of our fellow humans.
###
The physical attraction I felt for Abbe and the animal behavioralist were nothing compared to the physical attraction I felt for that beautiful man yesterday, though.
Oh. My. GAWD
Make hot passionate love to me, and I will teach you all about financial literacy, I thought. I will reveal to you the secret ways you can get the City of Poughkeepsie to forgive your past-due property taxes! I will invest in expensive IVF treatments and bear your children!
Next lifetime, perhaps.
