Greetings turds! Welcome to the workweek. It’s a beautiful Chicago morning, and I’m really looking forward to some lunch. I’ve got a buddy in town, and he says he likes local and/or spicy things, so I’m thinking Arby’s. At Arby’s I try to get the most disgusting item on the menu, which is difficult, since everything is floppy, fat marbled meat like substance packed in thick, viscous drool. How does one choose? It’s like Sophie’s Choice…anyway. Do you need my advice? Yes you do, Lincoln Square Lunatic:
I got engaged at 22 while still in college. I loved that woman more than anything, and I at least thought it was reciprocated, but the stress of transitioning into the real world and a lot of infidelity (which I continually forgave like a spineless pussy) led to her eventually leaving me a couple years later, never having gotten married. Adding insult to injury, I had to move back into my parents basement. Coupling these two led to monumental amounts of drinking- and you're right, crazy crazy drunks do love Jameson. You'd be amazed how quickly one can make a bottle disappear four fingers at a time when you just add a tiny splash of seltzer to your rocks glass. But I digress....
Since that point, she and I have intermittent contact (as well as occasional genital-to-genital contact) and we've both been in relatively steady relationships, too. However, every time I start to feel something for someone new, I sabotage the relationship by starting up talking to her again, and she enables the behavior by feeding me just enough (likely) bullshit to make me believe that there's still actually a shot at some sort of Eternal Sunshine caliber reconciliation. Fast forward to right now, where I'm seeing an amazing woman with whom there could realistically be some semblance of a future, and I'm starting to feel that little burn in the back of my brain again. Now I know WHY I'm done this sort of thing; it's very clear that it's an unbelievable fear of having history repeat itself because the last time I got that close and came up short it nearly ended me, sprinkled with a dash of Stockholm Syndrome for a little extra zing. Which brings me to my question to you, oh sage of sages: how in the hell do I keep myself from doing this crap again?
Lincoln Square Lunatic
Okay, good one. Firstly, we live in the same neighborhood, so there’s that. Secondly, it seems like you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s going on, so you’re about nine tenths of the way there, as I see it. Let’s check the facts right quick: You’ve got an ex that still excites you. You’re dating an awesome chick, and you’re getting that old familiar urge to go fuck everything up again, against your own better judgment. Man, oh man, do I feel you on this one. Relatable, for sure. All righty, here’s what you do: Talk to your girlfriend about it. Now, I’m not one for honesty at the expense of everything else, that’s a foolish pipe dream concocted by sixteen year olds to explain love in movies. Lies, good lies, are important in a relationship. Life is messy, and honesty is often brutal and unkind. I don’t want to live in a world where women actually take dumps and tell me that my friend actually IS better looking than me, and a better lay, for that matter. So, it’s not without a little bit of genuine thought that I suggest that you be upfront with your new girl about what’s going on. Will she be pissed? If she’s worth a shit, you bet. Will she understand what’s going on? Hmm…hard to say. The point is, you need a little shock therapy. Seeing this awesome new girl’s reaction to your self destructive impulses may just be the kick to the balls you need to free yourself from your exes grip. Nothing like watching a good girl cry or yell while some malicious bitch smiles in the background to make your brain quickly reprioritize things. So, that’s my take. Get it out there and see what happens. Otherwise, you’re just gonna fuck everything up anyway. Might as well try this, huh?
Okay, now here’s a quick piece of advice to punk rock persona, Ben Weasel:
Hi Ben, we’ve never met, but we share some things in common. We both sing in bands that come from Chicago and…okay, that’s about everything. Anyway, let’s get to the point here. Ben, starting a feud is like walking beneath a flock of birds. It’s crucial that you always look up. You’ve done some good stuff, and your career is kind of impressive. Sure, you’re no fat mike, or Tim Armstrong, or even a Jesse Michaels or Joe Escalante, but hey, you’ve made some important records. I mean, I, like everyone with any taste in pop punk, think ‘My Brain Hurts’ is great, and maybe unlike most people, think that ‘How to make Enemies’ is criminally underrated. But I digress…Okay, I’m no Fat Mike either. Hell, I’m not even a Ben Weasel, and I’m fine with that. I just like playing music and drinking beer with my friends. If you want to feud with someone for no reason (and you really have no reason to even breathe the name of my band to anyone. We’ve never met, shared a stage, been active on a label at the same time…nothing…it’s just odd) it’s important, once again, Ben, that you look up. Find a popular band full of dipshits, like, say the All American Rejects, just to use any old example, and say something like “those nancies spend all their time flat ironing their hair and aren’t fit to wash the jockstraps of the Jonas Bros. “ That’s how it works. You attack the big guys, and they hopefully respond, increasing your visibility in the process. Now, nothing against the All American Rejects. I’m sure those guys aren’t dipshits. Again, just an example. I actually like some of their music.
Anyway, I’m rambling again, but you get my point, right Ben? Now, when you pick on me and my band, you’re looking down, lashing out at someone less well known than you, and that is just backwards. Only assholes prey on the small and weak. It’s heroes who aim high. I’m not trying to call you an asshole, Ben. I just think you fail to understand how to effectively um…you know, Make Enemies and Irritate People, no pun intended.
See, your insistence, your stupid, misguided insistence on bringing us up as some sort of terrible band reference point is only flattering. Yeah, I’m flattered that you even know who my stupid band is. So there, buddy. Do what you want. Lord knows I’m not changing any lives over here, but I’m not interested in your pissing contest, either. I’ll never speak of this again, but I really feel like you should take my advice and do the same. Otherwise, you’re just going to make my crappy band more popular, while at the same time cultivating an image for yourself as some sort of ‘crazy asshole,’ and I’d hate to see that phrase applied to your name, Ben, That would be a real shame.
See you in the funny papers, everyone!