The Hot Chick On the Couch

Anything else is death

After my social suicide that was high school I found myself in vocational school for computer science. And though Steven Spielberg might have the brains to program computers, why would he want to? I don't want to either. Regardless, that's the situation I found myself in and I was ill equipped for it socially. To cover up I was forced into using my wit as a currency for acceptance and it was a ton of bloody pressure let me tell you.

But it seemed to work and I was glad to have buds to hang out with even if undeserved and somewhat bought. And this afforded me the chance to meet people far, far outside my social grade as a loser. My main conduit for this was Joey, who though only being a year older and having grown up in the same small town as I, we had never met before. He had just gotten out of the army, a stint he looked upon as an adventure and I suspect as a way to prove his manhood. But whatever his failings, I had no problems with Joey at all.

On weekends, desperate to leave the hellish boredom of campus, I would sometimes tag along with him back to our hometown less than an hour away (I had no car). Joey was part of the party crowd, the people I most related to while having no such abilities myself. I'm not one to falsely judge and say "You're going nowhere!" because someone leads the party life. Partly because no one knows the path another must to take to fulfill his destiny and partly because I could see the partiers were holding on to life and exploring it more than most. I respected that.


My bohemian heart loved this whole lifestyle of a Bob Seger song, one big long "Fire Lake" till you die. But what separates the great from the mediocre is commitment. As a smoke and mirrors persona, I needed the mediocrity of my fellow man to get by so I could use my sheer native intelligence as a smokescreen. Being smarter than everyone I meet helps but it's no substitute for actually being somebody. No substitute at all.

I knew that then and I know that now - so I knew exposure could come at any time. That time came with the Hot Chick On The Couch. I don't remember the circumstance but we were at the house of some friend of Joey's and they both had gone off in the other room leaving me alone with this uber woman. She was the kind of woman every guy wants and fantasizes about, with not only her rocking bod but with an electric sensuality you cannot fake. You only meet a handful of women like this in your lifetime. I remember sizing her up and part of me was like a teenage boy lusting after a supermodel and part of me was fearing her like no other. For you see, she had sized me up as well - right clean through.

For two people who never spoke we had quite a dialog. Her body language spoke of someone for whom there was no amount of physical distance between us that could possibly be enough for her. The universe was too small a place for the both of us. She was no mere party girl, she was facing life with honest commitment - my kryptonite - and she read me for the con artist I am. She didn't take prisoners, nor did I believe she should. I sat there a futureless human being, she having no time for boys.


Since I agreed with her, I could offer no defense of my pathetic state. On one hand she gave me what I needed: stripping me of all my lies, exposing my true self. But she had no interest in some sort of vicarious leech intruding upon her life, wasting her time she knew to be precious. I had nothing to offer her - or anyone really without my tricks. And on that count she could rat me out and isolate me all over again. In reality I knew she wouldn't waste her energies on a score like that but I also knew she wouldn't hesitate to vocalize her objections to me either.

I couldn't wait to get out of that house and back out of the spotlight. I said nothing to Joey about the superstar in the living room lest I reveal I noticed her reaction. I just simply reminded myself there are people out there you just can't bullshit - especially if they see you in person, where there's no place to hide. So I've been hiding ever since. There's no real reason to meet me still...