It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn’t the number-one box-office star in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherfucker. For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties, John Cusack is the neo-Elvis. But here’s what none of these upwardly mobile women seem to realize: They don’t love John Cusack. They love Lloyd Dobler. When they see Mr. Cusack, they are still seeing the optimistic, charmingly loquacious teenager he played in Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago. That’s the guy they think he is; when Cusack played Eddie Thomas in America’s Sweethearts or the sensitive hit man in Grosse Pointe Blank, all his female fans knew he was only acting...but they assume when the camera stopped rolling, he went back to his genuine self...which was someone like Lloyd Dobler...which was, in fact, someone who is Lloyd Dobler, and someone who continues to have a storybook romance with Diane Court (or with Ione Skye, depending on how you look at it). And these upwardly mobile women are not alone. We all convince ourselves of things like this--not necessary about Say Anything, but about any fictionalized portrayals of romance that happen to hit us in the right place, at the right time. This is why I will never be completely satisfied by a woman, and this is why the kind of woman I tend to find attractive will never be satisfied by me. We will both measure our relationship against the prospect of fake love.
-SEX, DRUGS, AND COCOA PUFFS
As you probably already noticed, I haven’t blogged in a while. For the most part, this is for practical reasons. I had to apply to grad school, which meant that I had a lot of writing to do in order to impress the people at grad school, and I didn’t see the logic in wasting valuable writing time with blogging. Yet, oddly enough, I did see the logic in wasting valuable writing time by, instead, cleaning the bathroom, reorganizing my cds/movies/books, and trying to get to the ninth level on Metroid. Do you know what happens when you get there?
Also, I haven’t posted anything for a while because I wasn’t sure I had anything of interest to say--assuming of course that I ever had anything of interest to say. Or, maybe I had too much to say.
Either one, I suppose, is possible.
But from now on I’m gonna try to blog more often, and my goal, as it stands right now, is to reach 100 posts by the time I graduate. For those of you keeping score at home, this is post number 60
Also, I understand that at the very least two of the links over to the right are no longer valid (both Adam and Clark seem to have deleted their blogs), but I'm not gonna change either of these out of respect. I don't know who or what for, but respect nonetheless. Plus, there's something vaguely gay about referring to Zach Braff as "The Jersey Boy." But, I'm not gonna change that either, cause I'm vaguely gay.
FROM NOW ON THIS CHAIR IS "THE ONE"
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the current state of my love life. It’s been almost five months since the Renee breakup and, despite what some people would lead you to believe, I’ve moved past it. Granted, I talk to her more than I probably should (which is to say that I talk to her at all) and I talk about her more than I probably should (which is to say that she still comes up in conversations) and I talk more amicably about her than I probably should (which is to say that the word “bitch” hasn’t become synonymous with her name). But, apart from all these things, I’m doing great.
Over the past few months I’ve gotten a pretty good look at the dating scene. This isn’t to say that I’m an expert by any means--after all the only date that I’m thoroughly familiar with is the ‘dinner and movie’ date--but I have gained some idea of the various kinds of women who are out there.
Now, when you’re younger, you don’t really care about this sort of thing. Personality types run a distant second to breast size. Nor, do you particularly care about it when you’re in a committed relationship. Women, apart from your significant other, fall into two distinct categories...I think you can all guess as to what these are. Moreover, when looking at or fantasizing about other women you don’t have to consider the practical ramifications of actually dating them. Practicality, as Rob Gordon taught us all, is not part of the fantasy.
Thus, for the first time in my life, I’m forced to look realistically and subjectively at the women that constitute the dating pool. And, I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m not impressed.
Now, in some cases, this is totally the woman’s fault. She has certain qualities (i.e. movie-talker) that make her less desirable in a romantic sense. If you think this is shallow, or if you happen to be a movie-talker, I’m sorry. I just call it like I see it.
In other cases, this isn’t the woman’s fault; in fact, it’s my own. I have a slightly skewed perception of what love is, and, as a consequence of this, I have a slightly skewed perception of what the perfect girl is like. I'm not talking about the "perfect girl" in general, cause what the hell is that? One man's perfection is another man's...whatever. There's no such thing a "perfect girl". I'm talking about the perfect girl for me. And, I’m sorry to say, there’s a laundry list of characteristics this girl is gonna have to have, none of which I'm going to list but many of which are somewhat rare, and, even sorrier still, is that I’m beginning to wonder whether or not such a girl exists.
And, perhaps sorriest of all, is that the odds of meeting this girl, assuming she exists, is made all the more slim by the fact that she's probably not gonna be at some bar or party. Like me, she would rather stay at home watching movies on a Saturday night. So, unless I go door to door, which is both impractical and creepy, where am I supposed to find her?
And, even if I find her, how do I know that I'm gonna stack up against her slightly skewed perception of what a "perfect guy" is. Cause you know she's gonna have one.
Do you see how, any way you look at it, this doesn't have a happy ending?
Now, for those of you who are thinking “But Will, you say “you would” every other girl on campus. What's with you being uber-picky all of a sudden?” Okay, you have a point and I mean it when I say "I'd do", but this goes back to the whole fantasy thing. Sure, I’d have sex with the blond sorority girl with the black stringy thong that inexplicably comes up to the small of her back, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else with her. What possible conversation could the two of us carry on--apart from me asking whether or not the aforementioned thong was at all uncomfortable. I don’t want to spend time with this girl because spending time with her is not part of the fantasy.
What I’m talking about, and I know this might be hard to believe, is real life. Realistically there’s a certain kind of girl I would seriously date, and only a small handful fit that description. Needless to say, my mind has been warped, ruined by the countless hours I've spent watching movies. I've been fed a steady and unhealthy diet of fake love, and it's gonna take one hell of a woman to stack up to that.
But I'm sure she's out there. And right now, she's probably watching Say Anything.
-SEX, DRUGS, AND COCOA PUFFS
As you probably already noticed, I haven’t blogged in a while. For the most part, this is for practical reasons. I had to apply to grad school, which meant that I had a lot of writing to do in order to impress the people at grad school, and I didn’t see the logic in wasting valuable writing time with blogging. Yet, oddly enough, I did see the logic in wasting valuable writing time by, instead, cleaning the bathroom, reorganizing my cds/movies/books, and trying to get to the ninth level on Metroid. Do you know what happens when you get there?
Also, I haven’t posted anything for a while because I wasn’t sure I had anything of interest to say--assuming of course that I ever had anything of interest to say. Or, maybe I had too much to say.
Either one, I suppose, is possible.
But from now on I’m gonna try to blog more often, and my goal, as it stands right now, is to reach 100 posts by the time I graduate. For those of you keeping score at home, this is post number 60
Also, I understand that at the very least two of the links over to the right are no longer valid (both Adam and Clark seem to have deleted their blogs), but I'm not gonna change either of these out of respect. I don't know who or what for, but respect nonetheless. Plus, there's something vaguely gay about referring to Zach Braff as "The Jersey Boy." But, I'm not gonna change that either, cause I'm vaguely gay.
FROM NOW ON THIS CHAIR IS "THE ONE"
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the current state of my love life. It’s been almost five months since the Renee breakup and, despite what some people would lead you to believe, I’ve moved past it. Granted, I talk to her more than I probably should (which is to say that I talk to her at all) and I talk about her more than I probably should (which is to say that she still comes up in conversations) and I talk more amicably about her than I probably should (which is to say that the word “bitch” hasn’t become synonymous with her name). But, apart from all these things, I’m doing great.
Over the past few months I’ve gotten a pretty good look at the dating scene. This isn’t to say that I’m an expert by any means--after all the only date that I’m thoroughly familiar with is the ‘dinner and movie’ date--but I have gained some idea of the various kinds of women who are out there.
Now, when you’re younger, you don’t really care about this sort of thing. Personality types run a distant second to breast size. Nor, do you particularly care about it when you’re in a committed relationship. Women, apart from your significant other, fall into two distinct categories...I think you can all guess as to what these are. Moreover, when looking at or fantasizing about other women you don’t have to consider the practical ramifications of actually dating them. Practicality, as Rob Gordon taught us all, is not part of the fantasy.
Thus, for the first time in my life, I’m forced to look realistically and subjectively at the women that constitute the dating pool. And, I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m not impressed.
Now, in some cases, this is totally the woman’s fault. She has certain qualities (i.e. movie-talker) that make her less desirable in a romantic sense. If you think this is shallow, or if you happen to be a movie-talker, I’m sorry. I just call it like I see it.
In other cases, this isn’t the woman’s fault; in fact, it’s my own. I have a slightly skewed perception of what love is, and, as a consequence of this, I have a slightly skewed perception of what the perfect girl is like. I'm not talking about the "perfect girl" in general, cause what the hell is that? One man's perfection is another man's...whatever. There's no such thing a "perfect girl". I'm talking about the perfect girl for me. And, I’m sorry to say, there’s a laundry list of characteristics this girl is gonna have to have, none of which I'm going to list but many of which are somewhat rare, and, even sorrier still, is that I’m beginning to wonder whether or not such a girl exists.
And, perhaps sorriest of all, is that the odds of meeting this girl, assuming she exists, is made all the more slim by the fact that she's probably not gonna be at some bar or party. Like me, she would rather stay at home watching movies on a Saturday night. So, unless I go door to door, which is both impractical and creepy, where am I supposed to find her?
And, even if I find her, how do I know that I'm gonna stack up against her slightly skewed perception of what a "perfect guy" is. Cause you know she's gonna have one.
Do you see how, any way you look at it, this doesn't have a happy ending?
Now, for those of you who are thinking “But Will, you say “you would” every other girl on campus. What's with you being uber-picky all of a sudden?” Okay, you have a point and I mean it when I say "I'd do", but this goes back to the whole fantasy thing. Sure, I’d have sex with the blond sorority girl with the black stringy thong that inexplicably comes up to the small of her back, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else with her. What possible conversation could the two of us carry on--apart from me asking whether or not the aforementioned thong was at all uncomfortable. I don’t want to spend time with this girl because spending time with her is not part of the fantasy.
What I’m talking about, and I know this might be hard to believe, is real life. Realistically there’s a certain kind of girl I would seriously date, and only a small handful fit that description. Needless to say, my mind has been warped, ruined by the countless hours I've spent watching movies. I've been fed a steady and unhealthy diet of fake love, and it's gonna take one hell of a woman to stack up to that.
But I'm sure she's out there. And right now, she's probably watching Say Anything.
