I got caught. That is genuinely the only way to put it. I realize this has probably happened to guys before, but never to me. The simple version of it is this. I woke up, at around one thirty in the PM, (I stayed up late the night before stop judging me!) took a shower and spent a little time reading a recently purchased book on the life of Marvin Gaye. (We have a lot in common in terms of our exceptional ability to fuck up. And the obvious fact that I am an amazingly talented black soul singer.) Never the less after some light reading I came out of my room and realized that no one was home. This is rare for me. I live in a giant house with three roommates and a consistent train of dudes that come over to either lament about how they are in their thirties and single or lament that they are in their thirties and their wives turned out to be total bitches. (Occasionally someone in their twenties comes over...they usually feel uncomfortable.) I looked around and observed the glorious emptiness. This felt like a moment granted to me by God himself. Don't get me wrong, I actually love where I live, but after recent events in my life maybe some alone time would be just what I needed to get some much valued perspective on life. (See above post. Or not, if you respect me.)
I immediately went to our giant air conditioned basement that houses our 72 inch 3D T.V. I looked around and listened intently... not a peep. I was free! I could spread my wings, sing to the heavens or do whatever else your supposed to metaphorically do when you are feeling completely free and vaguely unhinged. I could become a scene in my own John Hughes movie, or have some sort of Jerry Mcguire-esque moment realizing the futility of my existence and that single life freedom is exactly what I need. Finally I could do whatever I wanted to. Live however I wanted to. Watch whatever I wanted to. I had a joyous 72 inches of pure viewing splendor awaiting my open eyes. I could watch anything in the world that I wanted to. We have 500 channels and a shitload of DVDs obviously I could find something to view that day I contemplated what I wanted to watch. For those that don't know me I'm a little bit of a film buff (read pretentious asshole.) I imagined The Godfather would be on somewhere, maybe The Bicycle Thieves or Citizen Kane could be on TCM. Maybe I still have Chinatown on the DVR. I have every viewing option in the world. I can finally, genuinely, purely slightly anti Americanly watch whatever I want! "I can take all this I just got dumped and I need to stop being such a bitch anger", and flip it into "I am single man who is cherishing his free time by basking in the beautiful art of film." Perhaps I didn't quite follow through on this promise to myself like I should have. I looked around once more reminding myself that there was no one home and after much deliberation I sadly, made my choice. I was alone and I just had to. I turned the lights off in our beautifully "man cave furnished" basement sat down and relaxed.
About 22 minutes into the film I was slightly spent and decided to pause it and go and have a smoke. While in the backyard smoking, I heard the front door open. In walked one roommate and two of my very good friends. I looked at the front door with fear and what was soon to be sheer embarrassment. I immediately rushed into the house asking where they had been and whether or not they had fun on there journey. Slowly buying time I realized I had to somehow get to the basement and turn that movie off pause or they would know immediately exactly what I was doing. They started to walk downstairs. I told them "Hey, maybe I should go down there first. I forgot what I was watching and I should probably make an effort to make sure it's not a boring film or television show that you guys would hate." Not buying my lie and sensing my nervous attitude and insistence to get back down to the basement before them they hurriedly ran downstairs. I chased after them and dove for the remote, but to no avail. The play button was pushed and it was very quickly realized that prior to their return I was by myself and I was watching... The Notebook.
The amount of shit I was given that night was on an epic scale. If I was down in the basement watching hardcore pornography and frantically jerking off when everyone showed up I would've gotten away with it only slightly scathed. Guys jerk off it's human nature. Sometimes guys get caught jerking off, it's unfortunate but it happens. (I may or may not have been jerking off before I wrote this.) But I assure you guys don't watch The Notebook specifically watch The Notebook by themselves. Oh God, why did it have to be The Notebook? I could've been in the basement listening to Barbara Streisand on the stereo, watching Xanadu on the 72 inch tv, wearing a leather outfit made by Issac Mizrahi, reading David Sedaris and blowing two guys while Cher wore Miley Cyrus' foam finger and cheered us on and gotten less shit thrown my way.
 |
| Laugh all you want...I watched The Notebook by myself. Whatever, no big deal. You see that picture of a Bud Light sixer up there? Good, because I drink a lot of those, because I am a man, and that's what men do you fucking judgmental dickhole! |
I chose the one movie to watch that would remind me of the majesty of romance I mistakenly thought I once had and in its own special "Notebook" way would purposefully make me miserable. I chose the one movie I could watch that would remind me of what I no longer have. I could've watched anything to make me happy including porn, really intense 72 in HD porn, but I chose not to. I chose the one movie to remind me that I, like some men I've met, have "my balls safely lodged in my girlfriends purse." Wait? "Ex-Girlfriends purse?" Ahhhhh that's way fucking worse! What has become of me? Apparently I have become a total masochist and not in the hip "meet me on Fetlife and fuck me retarded I have issues" kind of way. I am a grown man, correction, grown MAN, and it is silly of me to have made such choices and I should be forced to atone for my sins and remind the world that I am all about dude-like things like farting on each other, going to the Ranch Club, and fucking anything with a pulse and having no genuine remorse about it . These are things that I like. These are things that make me happy Goddammit! I think...well maybe not so much...oh shit. What's happening to me? I am still a man am I not? It's just a movie and I hate it! I hate everything about it! It was just a temporary fix to a temporary problem. I cherish my masculinity! Or maybe I don't? Fuck...I'm hanging on by a thread here. I mean I hate that movie...I think...I mean. Fuck it let's bring it back! Let's get angry and manly.
 |
| This is Barely Legal Magazine. I Enjoy This Periodical. Because I am a man who likes looking at young pretend virginal naked 18 year old girls. Please Let That Be Known Before You Read On. |
That being said the worst part is, as pretentious as I can be when it comes to film, and as much as I hate Ryan Gosling and his sentimental shitbox movies and as quick as I can make you feel like the worlds biggest asshole for liking a movie that I don't like, I...shit...I...well...um... I...oh God no... I like The Notebook...
 |
| This Is A Picture of Philip Rivers the Greatest Quarterback in the History of the San Diego Chargers Organization. I Know This Because I Watch Football Every Sunday. Because That is What Masculine Men Do. (The fact that you can't see his uniform in the picture and his eyes are dreamy is purely coincidental.) Please Read On Carefully and Responsibly. |
It is now officially in print. I like The Notebook. Ok are you happy?! I like The Notebook! Goddamn I feel so free right now! You might hate it and maybe you hate me for liking it because it really is a sentimental piece of drivel and yet for some reason I still cherish the concept of it. The concept that that kind of ridiculous amount of love could actually exist between two people (trust me even I want to punch myself after writing that sentence. Or at least drink a hundred beers watch a baseball game and make fun of a fat girl.) But right now The Notebook makes sense. My mind has become so confused and almost femininely delicate that I am actually willing to watch a sentimental piece of drivel and learn life lessons from it. The problem with my roommates walking in on me watching The Notebook isn't so much that they caught me watching it, but more so based on the fact that in the middle of viewing it. I actually paused it. This is a film that I have seen and thought I genuinely hated for a decent amount of time and yet here I was not only viewing it, but pausing it so I could genuinely see what happened next, even though I already fucking knew! And I didn't care. I was genuinely fascinated.
Shit, you know what I fucking love The Notebook! I love The Notebook because we live in a silly world filled with awful things and sometimes it's ok to be happy. Sometimes it's ok to actually believe in the ridiculousness of true love or how one dude could stick around while his girlfriend was a total tit to him (sorry that might be more of a personal statement on my own life, but it's kind of true from a dudes perspective if you have ever actually seen said film.) This movie is everything that life and love is supposed to be. It never probably will be like that...but it could be. Couldn't it? And goddamn it, if you know you me you might think of me as a cynical piece of shit and I can find something wrong with everything you throw in front of me. But honestly that perception is fucking tiresome. If you think you truly know me I assure you, you probably do not. Maybe I've changed or maybe we were never really that close. But from now on before you say anything to me I want you to start our conversation with "Hey man good to see you and I like The Notebook too. I believe in the majesty of true love. I am not a cynical douche bag I am a grown man who thinks like you think. It's ok to love and be loved because that is an amazing and vital part of human life and if your sad Aaron Kiefer or questioning what has happened to you in your life, don't worry because we can always watch The Notebook together." Or just say "Hey I read your blog and hopefully life gets better faggot" then just give me a high five or something.
 |
| Alright to be honest I tried to put up a picture of the Liberty Bell here as a metaphor for my own masculinity being cracked, but still holding strong. Sadly I accidentally uploaded a photo of Liberace. Ha, Ha, you win. Does it even fucking matter any more...At this point just read on. |
I'm probably silly but I still believe in romance. I still believe in the idea that marriage can actually exist and I still believe that there can be the right person out there for everyone. I believe this because it makes sense to me. If you disagree that's fine and chances are you are probably right. "That shit never works out!" That's cool. I just like to think that sometimes, maybe it does (this coming from a guy who recently fucked a girl in the bathroom at Jim's Alibi) but if I don't believe in that then why is life worth living? It's similar to anyone who believes in God or Aliens or squirtters. We all have to believe because if we don't then what is life? The vital part of any existence is following through with what we what we genuinely believe in. And as ridiculous and confusing as life is, right now I believe in The Notebook. I have spent my entire life rolling strange, treating girls like shit and cheating any chance I got. (If your reading this I am not referencing you Ex Girlfriend.) I have made all the wrong choices any chance I got. I'm not sure that I want to do that anymore. And while this break up situation is shitty and depressing so be it. I had love and that means that it is not impossible that it could happen again. And if I need to watch The Notebook to remind myself of what I once had or what I actually want, and maybe for the first time in a long time I am kind of proud of myself for doing so. A dear friend of mine once told me that it is ok to watch The Notebook up until the point where Sam Shepard dies, because after that any masculinity and honesty is immediately sucked out of the film. I used to agree but now I don't care. Because I feel no shame in how I feel. To be honest there is part of me that after typing all this kind of feels like puking, punching or taking a nickel plated pistol and shooting my balls off, but maybe that is ok. Maybe life is change and I am still finding out what it truly means to be a man. Maybe I don't have to be a dick head to meet women, I can just be me. And if this break up for some reason turned me from jaded asshole...
 |
| Charles Bukowski (I am way better looking than this guy) |
Into sensitive pussy...
 |
| Ryan Gosling (I am way better...at something than this guy. Hopefully I can figure that out soon. Douche bag.) |
Then I guess I have to find a way to deal with that.
This will be the first and last time I ever say this (and God it pains me so) but thanks Ryan Gosling.
To Be Continued...
The Next Blog the Majesty of Dating in Boise, Idaho.
