Josh and Depression Vs. The World: Day 58
For the first time in awhile, I have some free time. Which means I can ponder how much of a failure I am.
As I’m writing this, I’m looking at an attractive woman with her boyfriend. He is well built, and he has several tattoos – I can’t see the tattoos up close, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say that they are not tattoos of the Starship Enterprise.
Update to this observation – they got into separate cars. Maybe they’re not dating. No, they are dating. How do I know? Because I find her attractive. If I didn’t find her attractive, they would just be friends. But, specifically because I find her attractive, the universe has conspired, in this moment, to ensure that they are dating.
It’s been four years since I had sex last. Somebody said to me yesterday “you don’t have to do that.” Yes, yes, I suppose, if I really wanted to, I could put some effort into it and have sex. Of course, the possibility exists that even if I put effort into it, I still may not have sex. I would almost want to put maximum effort into it, not have sex, and then feel totally justified in telling this person they are woefully incorrect.
Then this happened yesterday. I asked the photographer to take a picture of a cake. A few minutes later, I asked if he took a picture of the cake, and he said he did, and that I had already asked him. I completely forgot that I had asked him in the first place. And it wasn’t until several hours later that I remembered asking him – probably – I still totally don’t remember asking him. Naturally, I jumped to thinking I have Alzheimer’s. This on top of the heart problem that I’m worried about. It’s not like I’m TRYING to be Woody Allen, here.
I heard this nugget of wisdom from Barbara Holliday – “instead of trying to figure out how to make a million dollars, figure out how to communicate your message.”
Well, here goes: I’m terrified that I have heart and memory problems, and I would like to have casual sex, so long as all parties involved take blood tests and sign consent forms. Where’s my sitcom?
And as much I probably shouldn’t, I can’t help myself by continuing to chronicle the adventures of Rex the Surfing Detective, and Marvin, his shark sidekick.
REX: Oh. So it was the photographer. He’s the one who killed her.
MARVIN: How did you figure that out?
REX: He took a picture of himself killing her. He’s getting a ton of likes on instagram.
MARVIN: You know, it’s just getting harder and harder to make your mark in social media.
REX: Well, I guess the investigation is finished.
MARVIN: Is that code for “now you want to be alone?”
REX: I didn’t say that.
MARVIN: But you were thinking it.
REX: I was not thinking that at all.
MARVIN: So you do you want to go for a drink?
MARVIN: You don’t have to lie to me.
REX: It’s… to be blunt, you make a lousy wingman.
MARVIN: What on earth are you talking about?
REX: You’re a shark. You take up 80% of the bar. And you flail a lot.
MARVIN: So I gesture when I talk. What do you want from me?
REX: Women find it unsettling.
MARVIN: Has it occurred to you that maybe the reason why you don’t do well with women is because you’re emotionally unavailable?
REX: I’m not disagreeing with that. I am saying, however, that, on top of my insecurities, it is difficult to flirt with a woman in the presence of a shark.
MARVIN: Maybe you’re going after the wrong kind of woman. Listen, I know a great place to meet people.
REX: I’m not going scuba diving.
MARVIN: There are a ton of tourists down there right now.
REX: how am I supposed to have a conversation with a woman while scuba diving?
MARVIN: That’s the beauty of it – you can’t talk. And that, for you, might be the key to making a good first impression.
REX: I’m a terrific conversationalist.
MARVIN: Remember when we went to Applebees, and you tried hitting on the girls sitting next to us? You kept going on and on about how a wave is a metaphor for a human soul.
REX: I got her number, didn’t I? Besides – she was so taken with my story, she didn’t notice you trying to bite off the arm of her friend.
MARVIN: First of all, have you tried calling the number? Because I’ll bet you dollars to sand dollars it’s fake. Second, wasn’t taken with your story. She was mentally trying to figure out how to come up with an excuse to leave. I can tell. My Shark senses are heightened.
REX: No they’re not.
MARVIN: Yes, they are. By the way, you should sell your Tesla stock. My Shark sense is telling me things are not looking good.
REX: You don’t have shark sense. You just read the BBC like everybody else.