Chapter 3: Lauds
Part of my having only kissed six women comes from the sad fact that I don’t find most people interesting. Most people bore me terribly and I never want to see, hear, or, God forbid, talk to them again. I have often though myself to have incorrectly judged by others as being egotistical or distant or snobby or cold — but I suppose that if that’s what being uninterested in humanity is called then that’s what I am. I, personally, don’t see it this way because I don’t pretend to be any better than anyone else and I imagine most people find me equally boring and that is why I have taken it upon myself to save us both the time and energy by removing myself from the conversation as quickly as possible. Don’t call me, don’t ask me out, don’t look at me, please: it will save us both a lot of trouble in the end and we’ll both be happier and better people for it.
This applies to men or women, famous or common, beautiful or ugly, fat or skinny. I don’t believe I hold any biases for who it is I don’t want to talk to: all are equal in my eyes. There are only two types of conversation that I enjoy: one, is the type of conversation that most people would classify as deep or profound, examining some of the finer properties of life, love, spirituality, the environment, or, in general, knowledge. I am inspired by educated people who disagree with everything I say and have empirical data to backup their claims. I prefer the company of critical thinkers and big minds because it makes me feel small and insignificant and I can pretend to be intelligent by throwing off-hand comments that make people wonder how smart I must really be to have said them, such as:
“I heard that Lenin wore boxers only after he scraped his knee on a bust of himself but stopped wearing them altogether after eating a hardboiled egg while pedaling a unicycle that gave him gas. The egg, that is, not the unicycle of course! But you knew that!”
The second type of conversation I enjoy sharing with someone is the hysterically funny sort. The type of conversation that leaves me with a sore stomach and teary eyes and a general nagging feeling at the back of my head that says: if anyone has recorded this conversation, I might very well be expecting a lawsuit and prosecution shortly.
All other conversations fall into the category of either necessary or unnecessary; the necessary ones should happen as quickly as possible and the unnecessary ones should never be broached. Ben and I are terrific friends because he is very intelligent and when we are together we laugh harder than we ever do when we are apart. The most well-defined and toned muscles on our five-week trip were that of our face and stomach from the smiling and laughing that had us sore and wrinkled.
My social disability has left me in a place where I don’t date, I don’t go out with strangers, I don’t spend time with people that don’t show promise for intelligence or humor. And, because of this, I have only kissed six women. #6 was both funny and intelligent; she was feisty and never agreed with anything I said; she was loving and kind.
I didn’t know what she saw in me then but I did know there was little chance I would find anyone like her again.
We awoke the next morning and my back felt fine. It shouldn’t have felt fine but it did and this bothered me more than if it had hurt. I recently spent $1,200 on an adjustable California King size mattress with special back aligning qualities and my back still hurts every morning. Yet on my first night in the tent, back pressed against the rocky earth, shoulders pinched between the tent wall and Ben’s massive arms, when I expected at the very least a period of considerable adjustment, there was no pain whatsoever. I had slept on a three quarter inch inflatable mat on the rocky hard earth in the mountain cold and my back was wonderful. It was chipper. It was spry.
It was perplexing.
Maybe it was the cool morning air, or the bright sunlight streaming onto our tent, or the pang of an empty stomach, or the thought of #6 visiting that night at Mount Rainier. Whatever the reason, we were up at 6:15. It occurred to us, rather quickly, that the following were true:
A. Our clothes, which were washed in the river, were still very wet;
B. We had no food except for two packaged ultra-sodium-with-extra-salt dinners;
C. It was very cold.
Of these, Item B was of the gravest concern.
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