I know that as soon as some people read this they're going to think that I'm masking my own intentions and experiences by saying "this guy I know." I want to tell the people who come to that conclusion to feast on a packed satchel of peckers and choke on one. Preferably a small, hairy, greasy one.
Moving right along.
This guy I know came to visit this past weekend. (And so it begins). Let's call him Mother Fucker or M.F.er for short. (I'm sure he doesn't F any Mothers. I just like the way it sounds). I've known him for a while and always thought he was a pretty interesting character. He's beyond nerdy. He goes to the geekiest conventions that are frequented by "male" un-showered thirty-somethings who still live with their moms, collect toys, and have yet to touch a girl that is 3D and real. (We have almost one thing in common.) I'm talking nerdier than any Harry Potter convention and creepier than a porno convention. At least at the porno conventions, the creepshows can get off to real women and not Nintendo versions of them or imported models that are only sought after because they are dressed in Chun-Li or Princess Leah costumes. But beyond all that, I hear him out. I like hearing about a world I'm not a part of. It's fascinating. What can I say, I'm attracted to weird M.F.ers.
M.F.er told us the reason he came to visit was because he was thinking of trying to get transferred here for work and wanted to see if he enjoyed New York and could see himself living here. Then he delayed his trip by a week "because of work" which ultimately made Josh and I suspicious. We began to wonder what his real intentions were. When M.F.er finally showed up it became clear that he had ulterior motives. After a few conversations Josh figured out that M.F.er came here to "casually" bump into a girl he talked to a few weeks ago. A girl that he knew was going to be in New York this weekend. A girl he talked to. Not had a beautiful short-lived relationship like 500 Days of Summer. (Ha!) Not an explosive sex-filled romantic weekend. Not even a Best First Date Ever. Nope. Not at all. A girl he talked to. Talked to once. One time. In Chicago. He came here to "casually" bump into her.
I'm sure it's tough to imagine that. I wonder how cool a girl would have to be for me to drop everything I'm doing and do whatever it takes to see her again. Don't get me wrong. I dwell on every single somewhat attractive girl that talks to me. Or looks at me. Or just acknowledges my existence. But I don't hop on any planes. Shit, you'd be hard-pressed to get me to leave my room, especially if this chick has a Facebook account with a lot of "college years" photos. I just can't be bothered. I've already told myself, "It ain't going to happen. And if it did you'll just fuck it up and have to do it all over again."
M.F.er thought it was a good idea to figure out when this girl would be in New York (which itself is completely 100% insane) then decided coming out here would be another grand idea. And how did he think that would go? "Hey. I'm here. In New York. You seem to be here too. We talked a few weeks ago. For like a few minutes. Uh. Remember? So I'm here. Yea. I'm here. Hey." Of course that's not how he thought it would go, that's how it actually would have gone. (The lack of responses from her is because she'd be busy dialing 911 or blowing the rape whistle.) Maybe this is more accurate. "Oh my god! I haven't stopped thinking about you since you explained how Godzilla would destroy King Kong! It's really you! My knight in shining Boba Fett armor! Let me put your penis in and around my mouth...forever!" Bitch please.
After sitting around and thinking about all the plotting and trickery I do, or at least plan to do, I can admit that I've never taken it too far. Actually, I almost never take it anywhere. The plots and tricks stay in my head. Right where they belong. But M.F.er sees it differently. For a girl he talked to once; he planned a trip, paid for a friend (the friend who introduced the girl to him), rescheduled a trip to make sure his schedules lined up with hers, thought a million thoughts about how it would work out, how Ryan Gosling would get the girl in the end because he always does, then he came here.
And she wasn't here. And she wasn't coming.
I can't really fathom M.F.er;'s plan. It's insane. But it makes me wonder how people can get so delusional. He's not the only person out there that would do something like this. Neither the first nor the last. Loneliness is powerful but so is delusion. Which is better? I think I have an idea. But maybe I'm wrong. There are those who will say, "Marty. You're jaded, cynical, and 5'6"! What do you know about anything?"
I don't know much. But I ain't getting on any planes. And I know I ain't no M.F.er.
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