Hello My Name Is Cheeseball

Sometimes it amazes me how the most unexpected things in life can provide me with a bit of personal revelation. Tonight, that thing was the new Vince Vaughn/ Owen Wilson movie, “The Wedding Crashers.”

For most of my life I was a bit of a hard-ass. Like the stereotypical dude, I was into action movies and horror flicks and sci-fi stuff; anything that was “cool.” Whenever I saw a movie that possessed the “cool” characteristics but had a love story woven into it, I deemed that it could’ve been better without the chick-shit woven into the storyline.

Yet as has been documented by the entries in my diary, things have been changing. I know I’ve said before that I’m becoming a wuss, but I think my transformation has now gone past the point of no return.

Yes, “The Wedding Crashers” is a love story. Yes, I actually liked the movie because of it.

This shimmer of insight hit me as I was driving home, but in an last-ditch effort to retain my manly hard-assedness I went straight for my DVD shelf when I walked in the door. I wanted some reassurance that my inkling wasn’t true. I wanted the 450+ cases on my shelf to say, “See? You really don’t like love stories.”

I counted 24 movies that I own which I like and in which a majority of the plot has to do with some sort of love story.

This brought my thought process to part two; I needed to figure out why I now like love stories when I spent the previous years of my life adamantly opposed to them and actively trying to avoid them.

All it took was a small dose of nicotine and I realized that before now I never really understood them. Sure, Hollywood’s version of “love” is usually quite unrealistic and usually about as deep as a shot of Jack Daniels at a bar, yet there was always something about them which repulsed me. Perhaps it was only the fact that I didn’t get it.

It’s taken me 27 (God, it’s hard to say that number) years to finally be able to genuinely and truthfully care about someone else. It’s taken me 27 years to know what it’s like to live each year for only a few days when I can be with someone who is hundreds of miles away. It’s taken me 27 years to know what it’s like to care more about making someone else smile and be happy than if I’m happy (although doing the first now usually makes the second part happen too).

The strange thing about this whole deal is that I almost got married six years ago. Yet when I honestly think back to that whole deal, I never really loved her. I never really knew her, I never really had any sort of connection with her other than we were both “available” and in the same church (sort of). In fact, we really had almost nothing in common except that we were both single, didn’t want to stay single, and bought into the whole church thing that we were “meant” for each other, so why wait?

It’s amazing how churches and religion can fuck with people’s heads.

I guess the reason it’s taken me so long to realize that I never really cared about Michelle was because until now I’ve never had anything real to compare it to.

In a way it’s like I’m trying to ride a bike for the first time. Everything about it is totally new. The way that words are never able to express what I want them to. The way I constantly think I’m going to explode. The way I feel like a fat man at a buffet who just can’t get enough. The way I’ll sometimes just lay on my bed in the dark and think in total astonishment how anything in my life could possibly be so good. The way this whole thing penetrates and permeates my entire mind, will, and emotions.

With all I’ve done and all the way I’ve fucked up things in my life, including the lives of others, it’s hard for me to not be apprehensive about this. There’s always a tiny part of me that’s braced and ready for the rug to be pulled from beneath me and for my world to cave in on me. I’ve never really been the easiest nut to crack, but every day it gets easier to ignore the little pessimist in me and to stay open.

Funny how sometimes the things I mean the most sincerely sound so cliché. Perhaps what separates the truth from the cliché is how a person acts and lives based on what they’ve said.

*
“Hold me now I need to feel relief
Like I never wanted anything
I suppose I’ll let this go and find a reason to hold on to
I’m so ashamed of defeat
And I’m out of reason to believe in me
I’m out of trying to get by
*
I can’t face myself
When I wake up and look inside a mirror
I’m so ashamed of that thing
I suppose I’ll let it go ‘til I have something more to say for me
I’m so afraid of defeat
*
Hold me now I need to feel complete
Like I matter to the one I need.”
*
Seether