Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
That honeymoon glow
Early in the 1989 flick Sea of Love, Al Pacino’s character, a cop, indulges in a bit of thinking-out-loud with his partner (John Goodman). Pacino paints the picture of a first date for Goodman. Guy wines and dines the girl, gets her back to his apartment, does the wonder of me routine —
The wonder of me. When Karen and I first saw Sea of Love, that phrase jolted us out of our grad school-numbed complacency. For in those words, she saw me, and I saw myself. Yes, I had done this to Karen on our first date. Oh how I did it to her on our first date.
Hose down your minds, please. “Wonder of m”e refers to that state of being ON. You’re trotting out all your best stories. You’ve cranked your wit to the whip-cracking-snapping point. Baby, your cortex had better glisten, especially since the gal you’re dating takes Complex Analysis for fun (that’s mathematics, folks, not Freud).
It never lasts. Eventually, someone (me) develops a cortical flat tire, and some moronic, indefensible opinion slips the lips. You hope this happens after she’s fallen in love with you.
And it gets worse. One day, you realize you’ve run out of shtick. You have no more stories to tell, and before long you find yourself breaking up lengthy silent pauses at restaurants with, “Isn’t it nice that we can just be together and not have to say anything to one another?” And she says, “Yes, it really is,” but you know she’s thinking, Christ, what happened to him?
That’s when you start making shit up. That is the birth of fiction.
Well folks, I’m here to tell you, we’re still dating, and I haven’t run out of shtick yet.
Tomorrow: my close brush with man-titties.
D.
And here was me thinking dinner with you would be a fun experience because of the fiction!
Real life is always more fun than fiction. And — wait. Aren’t you up awfully late? Or is it already morning there?
It was 6.30am (when I posted). I’m not a morning person, but I had a bad night and gave up attempting sleep at five this morning!
I wonder if women do it too, or if we’re too busy being wowed by the wonder of him.
I don’t think the routine is a bad thing – as long as it doesn’t slide into arrogance*. Chances are the gal wants to know all about you, anyway. If not, she’s hoping you’ll keep talking until she can finally go home. 🙂
*Maureen’s #1 turn-off** – arrogance.
**Maureen’s #2 turn-off – lack of self-confidence. Somewhere in the middle is that sexy state of confidence without being a boor…
Okay – I’ve killed enough time surfing – now I’m going to be late for work.
Women don’t have to do it, Maureen. It’s the peacock who has to strut his stuff, not the peahen.
I doubt Karen saw me as arrogant. I’ve always possessed a finely balanced mix of egotism and self-hatred. When I get it right, I come across as sort of normal.
Doug’s #1 turn-off: trichitillomania
Doug’s #2 turn-off: just about any other mental illness, except perhaps Kluver-Bucy Syndrome.
When I said arrogance was a turn-off,I of course didn’t mean Pierre Trudeau, who was arrogant but somehow pulled it off– Then of course there was Brian Mulroney arrogance (shudder).
Hey, Doug – the gal in my never to be finished novel is a chronic hair-puller. You’ve diagnosed her for me!
I dunno Douglas… Women can put on a face, too, for a first date… Conversationally, I mean; not just the make up. 🙂
I’m sure you’re right, Karen, but from a guy’s point of view, I’m so busy performing I can’t see the effort on the other side of the table. Welcome to the blog, by the way!
maureen
Then of course there was Brian Mulroney arrogance (shudder)
Was that arrogance, d’you think, or simple kowtowing to his Lord and Master, the all-knowing, all-seeing, Ronald Reagan?
Or was I alone in imagining puppet strings reaching from DC to Ottawa?
And am I boring everyone with Canadian politics in a Californian’s blog?
Nice blog. Keep it up …
Hi there
Apologies for posting an off topic question here.
I am invitation your views on ABORTION in order to present a case to help those in the developing world.
I personally see abortion as a NECESSARY EVIL and that unwanted pregnancy is not only a personal problem and it is also a very real problem for the society at large.
Do you think it is right to burden say a 15 years old school-going girl with a new life when she is yet to have any economic mean to sustain herself and obviously, most girls of her age are not mentally ready for a family life. Furthermore, is it fair to rob her of her career, aspiration, dream etc., in the name of preserving a life that is yet to be fully developed?
If you have an opinion, please email it to me at divinetalk@gmail.com or if you wish, you may post your comment here: Your Onion Counts!
Also, what do you think of the recent “Pharmacists Refused Contraceptive Prescriptions”.
Do you think Pharmacists have the rights to Play God?
Do you think Pharmacists have the rights to Play God?
As a doctor, I reserve that right for myself and my colleagues.
(Not that I don’t have political opinions, nor do I not have a problem at times with double negatives, but I prefer to keep this blog primarily focused on humor, writing, and SF.)
Re: Brian Mulroney
Which Bee Gee was he — the cute mop top with the teeth, or the scraggly-bearded one with less hair than me? And what was he doing with Ronald Reagan?
And am I boring everyone with Canadian politics in a Californian’s blog?
Who cares, Pat? Being Californian he’s probably stoned anyway.
No – I don’t think you’re the only one to imagine those strings…or the kowtowing. What a shmuck ol’ Brian was.
Re: Brian Mulroney
Which Bee Gee was he — the cute mop top with the teeth, or the scraggly-bearded one with less hair than me? And what was he doing with Ronald Reagan?
He was the one with the chin that enters a room a full two days before he does, if the political cartoonists are to be believed (and who doesn’t believe political cartoonists?). And it’s not so much what he was doing with Ronald Reagan, as what Ronald Reagan was doing with him. To our (ie, my) country.
Hey! He did it to our country first! You were just some cheap floozy he had to screw when he got tired of giving it to us up the — ah, you get the idea.
[…] As for Karen, two things happened. First, I had the feeling that she and I were two of a kind. I’m afraid I trotted out some “psychic twins” bullshit (and Karen was kind enough to see past that nonsense!) Second, I was on whenever I was with her. Long-timers here will remember that this is called (hat tip to Sea of Love) the Wonder of Me. To quote myself, the Wonder of Me . . . refers to that state of being ON. You’re trotting out all your best stories. You’ve cranked your wit to the whip-cracking-snapping point. Baby, your cortex had better glisten, especially since the gal you’re dating takes Complex Analysis for fun (that’s mathematics, folks, not Freud). […]
[…] A long time ago, I wrote about the “wonder of me” period in a relationship — that early interval where the guy trots out all his best shtick. I touched on the end of that period: One day, you realize you’ve run out of shtick. You have no more stories to tell, and before long you find yourself breaking up lengthy silent pauses at restaurants with, “Isn’t it nice that we can just be together and not have to say anything to one another?” And she says, “Yes, it really is,” but you know she’s thinking, Christ, what happened to him? […]