By Anthony Paull
I started doing away with New Year’s resolutions in my 20s when I began to realize that nobody gives a shit what I resolve. Obnoxious Facebook updates have only solidified my stance that people to need get over themselves for eating like pigs and screwing like rabbits.
My theory in life is to go on and do what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone outside of the realm of decent sex. In other words, you’re permitted to deliver some pain in bed but only a quick ouchie, not that shit you got away with in college when you were too poor to buy adequate lube.
I’m happy to be in my 30s because I can afford the luxury lube, unlike the spit-variety kind that I had to deal with when I was in a fraternity. Call me an elitist but it’s hard to maintain the magic of the moment when your mate is hocking a loogie into his palm to shove up your ass. I can’t help but laugh when I find out my friends still date guys in their early 20s, only to wake up with cookie crumbs and video games cemented to their butt cracks.
One friend named Hank, nearing 40, refuses to date anyone older than he could father. He keeps it legal but there’s always some new boy he’s lusting after who makes the rest of us feel uncomfortable at house parties due to the fear of getting busted for serving alcohol to a minor.
Hank states he doesn’t like men his age because they are boring and don’t like to do fun things like go out and get carded. Joe – the lad he’s dating – is the type of guy who shows up at the bar on a skateboard and tells everyone he forgot his wallet. His “look” is varying degrees of hipster meet homeboy meets homeless depending on alcohol-consumption.
Hank finds Joe hot because he has a tight body and is good in bed. That is until last week when Hank freaked out during a routine blowjob.
“Oh yeah. Suck that young dick,” Joe said.
The comment didn’t sit right with Hank, who left a message with Joe the next day to end the relationship because the word “young” made him feel old and cheap. The problem is Joe speaks exclusively via text and usually waits a week to reply.
Dude, I missed your text. You mean we’re not together? I thought we were gonna hit up Game Stop. I need the cheats to Zelda.
Apparently Joe thought things were going great even though he hadn’t contacted or responded to Hank all week. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with that, seeing as the two have an understanding that neither seem to understand. The last they left it was they both want to be monogamous but they don’t want to be in a relationship but they want to be able to do things with their friends but they want to be able to talk every day but only if they want to talk.
“In other words, you want to be relationship,” I tell Hank.
“Then why don’t you just say that?”
Hank eyes me like I’m Buddha, professing something that he should very well know – that he consistently gets hurt because he tell guys what he thinks they want to hear even if it’s not what he wants. Then he freaks out when he gets screwed over because neither party wants to commit. The issue seems to be pretty popular among many of my single friends. They want the perks of being in a relationship but don’t want the responsibilities that go along with it. It’s not an age thing – it’s universal. The emotional needs remain high but the effort is less and less.
I don’t have time to see my boyfriend today but I’ll be sure to call; no text, no Facebook, no Skype, no…I’ll send him an “I love you” via Morse code. That’s retro, isn’t it? Wow! Does that make me a hipster?
Later in the week, Hank calls me when he sees Joe talking to another guy at the bar. He’s heartbroken.
“So what? Am I supposed to tell him I want more?” he asks.
“If you like him. But you might want to define what more is.”
Hank sighs. “I’ll call him.” And he does, placing a message on Joe’s voicemail, which has yet to be returned after three days. “See,” he says, over a beer. “I put myself out there and nada. He’s just a kid. What’s the point?”
“The point is being an adult requires being able to admit what you need.”
“Great,” he says, taking a drink. “Except he’s not calling back.”
“That’s OK. Maybe that’s what you need to be able to move on to someone who will.”