Relationship Advice from Someone Who Has No Idea What They Are Talking About

Chapter 3: An Episode of the Over Analytical Mind


It has occurred to me that taking English Literature has led me to be overly analytical of inconsequential occurrences. To explain, Reader, I will detail two conversations.

The first was with Baby Player, which occurred before the events of chapter one transpired. We were doing one of the many various mindless tasks that restaurant work entails and, as doing, set our tongues-a-wagging.

“So how’s your love life then?” He asks me.

I laughed, “Same old shit!” I was still dating Posh Twat at the time.

“What about at Uni? Is there no one there you like?”

“There is nothing for me at Uni. They are all younger than me.”

Pay attention, here comes the interesting part.

“So? You’re hot enough to get a younger guy.” He replies.

Now this statement intrigued me and I started to unpick the implications in my mind.

First of all there was the inference that younger guys were of a higher calibre and therefore a girl needed to be particularly attractive to land one. It was as if being younger made them higher quality item. Their own attractiveness seemed to be of no moment; youth being the golden ticket.

Second, that Baby Player apparently deemed me worthy of this ticket.

Finally, it had not occurred to him that I did not want to date someone younger than me. It did not register to him that women usually date older men for a reason. Maturity levels, experience, money; there are countless reasons, but none of this seemed relevant to Baby Player. The sole reason, in his opinion, for most women not to date a younger man was that they were not ‘hot enough’ to do so.

Later on that week I relayed the conversation to Post Twat, who sat patiently as I explained my thought processes to him. He listened attentively as I detailed the inferences in this statement and the connotations that could be derived from it. I referred to the language; the use of the word enough as if there was a level to be achieved before one could enter into the toy-boy regime. I referred to the tone of the statement; the lack of doubt showing that it did not occur to him that I might not want to go for a younger man. I concluded that this was a fascinating insight into the mind and opinions of Baby Player.

To all this Posh Twat waited tolerantly before turning to me and saying, “Hun, Baby Player is younger than you. I think he wants to sleep with you.”

“Oh.”

Oh...

That hadn’t occurred to me.

Ex

I remember the first time I realised that my Ex had issues with food. What I didn’t know at the time was what that meant for me and him. I remember the musky sweetness of his flat and the way his face darkened as he told me; but I didn’t really realise.


I was younger then.

I didn’t understand that in order to love someone else you need to love yourself. I heard someone say once that if you don’t like yourself then anyone who does is ultimately deemed a fool in their eyes; and who wants to go out with a fool?

I remember watching him look at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and all I could think of at the time was that he was mine, but then I was seeing the world with sex-tinted glasses. I missed the calculating and appraising way he viewed himself, twisting this way and that so to gain a better vantage point.

He would run his hands alone the contours of his perfectly flat stomach and say “I’m gonna go to the gym later.”

“Ok.” I would reply, thinking how healthy he was.

Then he would look at me.

“Why are you eating again?”

“I’m hungry.”

He would just shake his head, and then distract me and remove it later.

I often wonder what he is doing now; if he is ok; if he is happy. I hope he is happy, but then I also hope he is better. Anyone can convince themselves they are happy, so I guess I hope he is well.

He told me that he was able to make himself sick just by wanting to. If he felt like he had eaten too much he would just get rid of it. You know that bloated feeling you get when you are full? He didn’t like that.

I can’t even make myself sick by shoving my fist down my throat so the notion that one can think themselves sick is completely alien to me. Not to mention a waste, there are children starving in Africa you know? Or at least that’s what I was told when I didn’t want to finish my dinner.

It was no big deal though, he didn’t do it very often, and then only if he felt uncomfortable.

And I believed him.

As I said, I was younger then.

I should have known better though, when he asked me to keep it from everyone, even his friends. No one knew and I was the only one he had ever told.

I wonder if this is still the case?

Not my problem anymore I guess, he has people that care for him; I’m just not one of them anymore. Sounds harsh doesn’t it? Life and people move on, cliché but true.

All I think about now is whether or not I should have told someone about his occasional habit. Did they know? Would they ever know? Has he stopped? In keeping my promise, even after a messy break-up, was I hurting or helping?

Or was I making a big deal out of nothing? I am no expert, and when people feel nauseous they are sick. Why does there have to be a line on the ground? ‘Stand this side if you are normal, but if you vomit more the government quota allows we are pushing you over onto the disorder side.’

Hell, even I have had food poisoning, you look like shit and feel worse but there is no denying that being sick makes you feel better. I have also known people to make themselves sick when they have drunk too much, two fingers down the back of the throat and the world stops spinning long enough to get home.

One man’s solution is another man’s disorder.

So where is the line?

And who is fooling who?

The Big "Bad" Wolf

First of all I would like to point out that it is discrimination to assume someone is bad based on appearances. I am a big wolf. There! I said it! I have struggled with my weight all my life and no matter how many times a week I work out, no matter how many of those damn low calories fibre bars I eat, I will never be a size zero! Frankly, I am disgusted that in this day and age a person cannot be accepted for who there are. Does being a big wolf make me a bad person?
Secondly, I ask you how you would feel if three little pigs just upped and started building their houses on your land? The three rude little porkers stole building materials and literally threw up these monstrosities without a thought for planning permission or their neighbours. I feel I was quite within my rights to go round and discuss the matter with them. After all their smoky chimneys were blocking all the light into my garden and killing my Begonias.
Finally, I would like to point out that I am Jewish.
Now, I do not see how I should be blamed for my hay fever either, I mean, who builds their house out of straw anyway? So when I informed the little swine that I was going to ‘huff and puff and blow his house down’ I was warning him of a genuine danger. He chose to retort in a very rude manner "By the hair of my chinny chin chin, I will not let you come in" and not to vacate his premises. In my panic I ran to his brother house to get help but by then I had straw up my noise and another regrettable incident occurred.
By the time I got to the third house I was in such a state I was completely unprepared for his vigilante actions. Would you believe he tried to boil me alive?
So here I am facing jail time for the deaths of two piglet hoodies who were trespassing on my land in the first place! Whilst He sits pretty in his little brick house, now the proud owner of everything he inherited from his brothers and my cottage to boot! Lupine Discrimination!