hookin up with history

for better or worse, a girls history talks to me.

imagine my surprise the first time THAT happened.

i was young (maybe 14 or 15), minding my own business after school- just happy to have someone new in my life (just happy to have a new girl to fool around with), when suddenly out of nowhere this girls history sidles over, squeezes in between the two of us and sits down. at first i thought it was awfully rude (afterall there was plenty of room elsewhere), but i decided not make a fuss, and just ignored the interruption.

so there he is, sitting between us, idly listening, when suddenly he interjects RIGHT in the middle of our conversation. she was in the process of telling me about a 'heavy' dinner conversation that she had had recently with her friend matt, when her history piped in:

'wait, wasnt one of her old boyfriends named matt?'

i threw an irritated look his way, rolled my eyes, and tried to pay attention to the story.

(yep, thats right, a girls history is always a dood)

and despite his rude interruption, her story continued, and i continued to smile, and i continued to nod my head, and i continued to laugh at her jokes and ask all the right questions, but suddenly all i could REALLY hear was history's question reverberating inside my head.

'matt? which one was matt again? was he the joker who cheated on her? or was he the asshole who smoked alot of weed and she used to fuck around with? wait, that guys name was john... wasnt matt the cowboy on spring break?'

suddenly i cant remember, who matt was.

there i was chatting up a perfectly wonderful girl, and i have this DOOD (an imaginary one at that) cock-blocking me. for that matter, there i was chatting up a perfectly wonderful girl and i was cock-blocking myself.

needless to say, things did not last long with ms. chatty matty.

and that wasnt the last time that someones history spoke to me. that wasn’t the last time that i was imaginary cock blocked. and i hate to say it, but history and i have become old friends. each time its a different girl, with a different history, at a different stage in my life, but its always the same ol' conversation.

because a persons history always has alot to say about who they are.

and i hate to say it, but he gets me practically every time. he gets inside my head and takes a perfectly wonderful girl and makes her into something… not so wonderful.

and sometimes im grateful. sometimes im happy that history gave me the heads-up. sometimes im happy to have that occasional thumbs up (or the inevitably thumbs down).

because none of us are saints (i certainly am not), but as history likes to point out, some of us are saintlier than others.

'maybe it wasnt the smartest idea to get drunk and take off my skirt at that fraternity party...'

'i knew he liked me, but my boyfriend was out of town and i needed a bed to crash in'

'who would have thunk that smokin' alotta pot and rollin' would lower your inhibitions'

i wonder what my history likes to talk about when im not around (hopefully not about the skirt that i took off at my fraternity’s party...) ha!

its downright scary what youll hear (if you listen closely)

and ive actually broken things off based on things that have been said. ive actually broken things off based on things that have been done. ive actually lost interest in some PERFECT (or what i thought was PERFECT) women because i didnt want to be number XXX in a series of bad boyfriends (or even worse, bad hookups).

c’mon girls! lets at least try to keep it to double digits... single if possible.

perhaps im kidding myself. perhaps im kidding everyone. who the hell do i think i am? who the hell made me the judge of them? im no better than they are...

but i am.

because for every awkward story, and half baked decision of theirs - i remember being in the same type of situation. and i usually made the right choice - if the right choice was keeping my clothes on, sleeping somewhere else, passing on that extra bong hit etc.

not always, but pretty damn close.

so why couldnt they? WHY!?!?!? why are so many very smart, very attractive, very WONDERFUL women, so very stupid?

why?

i don’t have an answer to that question. rather, i didn’t think that i would ever have an answer to that question.

that is, until now.

it took someone very special to finally teach me that these women – the smart, attractive, wonderful women that i meet, ARE NOT STUPID.

they were stupid.

and we can argue over whether or not they were actually stupid (if by stupid, you mean young and inexperienced), but that’s not even the point. the point is that they were stupid, but stupid in the past. they were stupid a long time ago (maybe even more than a couple of weeks ago). maybe they slept with too many guys. maybe they got drunk and pornstarr-ed it up too often. maybe they had problems that they couldn’t deal with – maybe they had problems that they dealt with, but not in the best way possible.

it doesn’t matter.

because a persons history always has a lot to say about who they were, but it doesn’t (necessarily) say a lot about who they are. it may be part of their history, but its not (necessarily) part of their future.

and that makes all the difference in the world… doesnt it?