When I was a kid, I was a total moron. Now, when I say moron, I mean exactly this: I would do anything and everything for a laugh - just like any self respecting moron would do.
If it meant licking bugs off the windshield in Moab Utah, the bugs were licked.
If it meant shaving both my eyebrows in the back seat of a suburban, brows were shaved to bloody stubs.
If it meant streaking... uh, never mind, my mom reads this blog.
"Moron", "twit", "jackass" - I fit every description. At 34, I am not sure if I have outgrown this phase of my life. I'd like to think so, but if you have seen me dance, you'd probably disagree with me.
At the age of 17, I came to the harsh realization that my involvement as the town nitwit was completely at odds with the raging hormones bouncing off every fiber of my being. It appeared, at least on the surface, that girls did not appreciate a good bug lick. (That came off much dirtier than it really is.)
My first attempt to kiss a girl went exactly like this:
Scene: Second date with a average to below average looking girl. (Most would say BELOW average.) We are standing nervously next to her 1984 blue Volkswagon bug. After some small talk about something really lame - most likely how my acne has recently cleared up - I lean in for the kiss.
- EXCUSE ME. What are you doing?!
- Uh, nothing. Sorry. Sorry.
- Abe, I really don't think I like you like that.
- Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything... I mean, you were totally laughing the entire night.
- Yeah, I know. You are a funny guy, but you kinda talk about stupid stuff and do strange things.
- Really? Well, I am just...
- Well, it's like you are trying TOO hard.
- Oh. Ouch. Well, I thought I was totally lowering my standards by going out with you. I am doing YOU a favor here. If you won't kiss me, then WHO THE HECK WILL?!
Okay, that last line I may have not said, but it is exactly what I WANTED to say. I should have said it. I was so pathetic.
So, I was at a crossroads; a fork in the road, or another place where you have to make a decision to go one way or another.
In order to respect and honor the ladies, I decided to scale back the moronic act a little.
Yeah, that's the ticket - I did it out of respect and honor for the ladies. The hormones were an afterthought. What I mean by that is that I thought about my hormones after I thought about the ladies and I thought about them almost nonstop.
Alas, my efforts did not prove fruitless as a mere year later, I was able to sweep my ultra hot wife off her feet. Once I was able to accomplish that titanic task, I could go back to my moronic ways for laughs - like sitting midday in a dumpster full of rotten chocolate milk. (See three posts below.)