January 24, 2006

Night, Unsilenced

It's just after midnight. The sky's too clouded over for stars, but the air is fresh and crisp. It's positively brisk. It's a still, clean, beautiful night.

Except for the dude pacing the walkways on his cell phone.

I'm going to indulge in a little generational stereotyping, because I survived it once upon a time and you will, too, young'uns: You kids these days are all, man and woman alike, fucking around on each other.

Seriously, woman: When your man volunteers to venture out into the cold night air to walk your itty-bitty pipsqueak guinea pig of a dog, why do you think he needs to take his phone with him? I'll tell you why he needs to take his phone with him: TO MACK ON A LADY. A lady who is not you. He has a phone and he must mack.

Poorly. Tackily. Cheesily, as macking can only be done when it is done with one arm attached to a leash, and the other end of that leash is attached to his girlfriend's completely embarrassing dog.

Also, loudly. Is it the sexy, now, to shout your courtship to the heavens? I must surmise that it is, because every person under 25 seems driven to do it.

Note I said person. The ladies, also, are fond of fleeing their homes on who-even-knows-what flimsy pretext of an excuse ("Shoot, I'm out of tampons--wait, I think I saw some blooming in the pampas grass earlier! Be right back!") to make the furtive calls to the fellas late at night. This is definitely a behavior that transcends gender. The kids these days, it is like they are all in training pants for their upcoming affairs and divorces. It's just terrible.

If things don't work out with the setup I've got now I'm going lesbian or joining a convent or--hey, wait, maybe I could even do both. But I'm not jumping back into these increasingly shark-infested waters for any amount of luscious booty. No sir. Not me.

Silent night,
Holy night,

Oh, yes, dude. Yes, I can. And verily, what a lucky thing it is that your girlfriend isn't as fond of night breezes as I am, or she'd be able to hear you, too.

Posted by Ilyka at January 24, 2006 12:24 AM in navel gazing

I lost you after "lesbian convent".

Posted by: Jim at January 24, 2006 04:29 AM

Not just to pick up on the same issue as Jim, but the lesbians? You just know they're searching for feminine hygiene products in the pampas grass, too. It's not just the straight ones that walk the Papillon and hunt for booty.

Posted by: Helen at January 24, 2006 10:24 AM

The mack-challenge factor is definitely skewed upward by the presence of the yip dog. It really can't be engendering an I-want-a-piece-of-that feeling on the other end of the line.

For some reason I totally pictured Keven Federline (warning: link Not Safe For Your Faith In Humanity) when I was reading your account of events.

Posted by: Hubris at January 24, 2006 12:21 PM

He DID kind of look like K-Fed! Seriously! He had on the tackiest orange hoodie I've ever seen and I'm sure that in warmer weather he wears manpris.

Posted by: ilyka at January 24, 2006 01:24 PM

Like your new tagline.

Posted by: Hubris at January 25, 2006 07:40 AM