I feel like this is the obligatory ‘Learn About The Author’ post. In order to get a real good idea of how very humiliating my humiliating situations are, you have to really get the whole picture. My life is not a story about being so extremely attractive and awesome that everyone in the world wants me and I just make these little flubs that are funny for dinner conversation. It’s not about my foray into drugs and illicit activities that leads me down a path of hilarity and I come out feeling like a real, crack-addicted winner. These are stories people read. They are about feeling like shit, and being a giant idiot, and having to swallow your pride, (if you have any), and admit to being a bag of crap sometimes. Not just being a bag of crap, but being a bag of crap with the occasional flea problem that always lands on the nicest people’s doorstep. That’s my life.
My first relationship happened when I was about 18. There WILL be a post about that mess. Before then, I had been a fat, scared nerd who never thought a relationship was in the cards for me, even though I had a hearty share of ridiculous crushes that never went anywhere. In fact, I remember someone asking this boy TJ in my middle school class if he would date me, and he softly said, “I don’t know, maybe”. You would have thought the skies opened up an an angel gave me a five-second Frencher. Maybe?! Like… Maybe?! Shit, I was coming up in the world.
It will surprise NO ONE that TJ and I did not date. Ever. I see him now, on Facebook, adopting a puppy with his girlfriend, 40 pounds lighter than I remember, though still with the open smile that made people think he was just the cats’ meow in middle school. To be fair, TJ was always nice to me, and he probably has no idea how awesome saying ‘maybe’ made me feel 15 years ago. I wish him and his girlfriend and his new sweet Lassie the very best in life.
The point, though I drift, is that I did not date throughout middle and high school, and I graduated with the coveted ‘Still A Virgin’ award. Though, at the time, that wasn’t entirely unheard of. I mean, who was I gonna sleep with, a stranger?!
So, I dated in college. A bit. Then I dated in grad school, a bit. Between these bits, there was a whole lot of tom foolery and one night stands and general retardation. And everyone knows, those make the best stories. Which I will share, more than I probably should.
I am the consummate ‘you’re so nice and funny, I would totally date you’ girl. I had, (and have), longer mousy brown hair, which is never properly taken care of. I have been overweight since I can remember. I have been funny for about that long too, because hey! If they are laughing with you, they can’t be laughing at you, right? I suffer from crippling self-esteem issues, which prevent me from trying new things. Is there a chance that if I get on this horse, his legs will break and splay out like the legs of the chair in that movie Shallow Hal? Even a one-in-a-million chance? Okay, I’ll just avoid that, thanks.
I was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes when I was about 19, and Multiple Sclerosis at about 23. Due to the Diabetes, I constantly wear a glucose sensor and insulin pump on my stomach, to, you know, keep me alive. So on top of the already sterling image you must have of me, imagine also getting the benefit of constantly being asked if I have a beeper in my pocket. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me, “Man, I didn’t know they even MADE those anymore!”, I wouldn’t be working in retail, that’s for sure. I would be enjoying some high class cocaine and telling myself I was doing it as a laissez-faire diet. Between telling myself that no one notices the tube coming out of my shirt and having to convince potential lovers that no, they cannot catch what I have, it has been a pretty rough ride. Not that I am complaining. Everyone has their thing that they hate about themselves. Mine is just less of A Thing, and more of a cornucopia of things that come together to make the shit storm that is my romantic life. And take the word ‘romantic’ in the loosest sense you can. My pump is a small brick in the Lego Millennium Falcon that is my self-esteem death tanker.
I guess that’s me. I just wanted you to come into this with the right frame of mind. So, when I tell you about Oh-My-God Tom, you understand that this is not Nicole Kidman recalling the one time in her pristine life that she was a bit humiliated. It was and is a messy, chubby, awkward human being remembering just another time she made an ass of herself. Welcome to the dream that is my life.