Punched In The Gut By a Woman

In a world where Evil Bastard has laid his devastation, a hero rises above the devastated world and finds a way to devastate Evil Bastard, ridding the devastation befallen on our devastated U S of A! This sounds like every action movie ever made, giving the audience a moment of satisfaction, like getting a happy ending at a questionable massage parlor in downtown San Francisco (I wouldn't know. Never gotten one. A happy ending. Well, from my past girlfriends. TMI?). Action movies happen in a black and white world. That's why the antagonist is the evil bastard. He deserves his final fateful fatal finish.



What throws a wrench into the whole black and white picture is when the antagonist isn't an evil bastard. Or when he's not even a bastard but a really cool guy (like Aldous Snow in Forgetting Sarah Marshall). This happened to me once vying for a fair-haired maiden who was bare in a bear's lair just off a rare path used by mares whom dared to tear through hay to get to a pile of pairs with no care. And I thought I was the cool guy cuz I have long luscious locks like Aldous Snow, the rockstar. I can actually do the head banging thing, except I don't have an electric guitar let alone a guitar. Not even a fiddle.

Barring from giving too many details, on paper, my competition was pretty impressive, and pretty. I mean, I'd date him if I swung that way. I guess he'd have to swing that way too. But it was more than a little daunting when I realized he was my competition.

Imagine David calling out Goliath, but David only has a small rock that was really a pebble that was really, really small, and it turned out to be a grain of sand, and given the existence of air resistance, David couldn't chuck that puny grain farther than he could chuck the cool guy if his life depended on it (taking a breath).

On his sole TV interview, Bruce Lee once said, "Honestly express yourself."

What in God's name did he mean by that? Be you. Live your truth. Go after what you want. Live your life. So often we find ourselves trying to emulate someone else, fulfilling our parents' dream, staying our wants and needs, living what society wants us to be.

I thought to myself: OK, Jimmy, what do I say to my competition? Honestly express yourself...dig deep, Jimmy. Common, Jimmy! Cough! Hock! Deeper! What would Sifu the Sensei of masters Lee say?

Here was what I came up with, "Muthafucka, dat's my bitch!"

No, no I didn't say that. I'd say it in jest, but not about a girl I've yet to form a relationship with. Ugh...maybe I would. Gawd, what's wrong with me?

I began to suspect that the fair maiden liked the cool dude on our first, and, unbeknownst to me, last date. And I found out that I was second fiddle.

And because the other dude is pretty and impressive, there was no satisfaction for me, like she's gonna hook up with a loser or an asshole. Could he be an asshole? Sure. I don't know him that well.

But, man, that rejection was like taking a punch in the gut, like it went through my stomach and out my back. It's hard to come back from a hole like that. It was difficult to deal with because suddenly my mind was flooded with doubt, trying to analyze what I did wrong, what could I have done better, or did I not honestly express myself when I was with her?

And that was the thing! The cool guy had lived an awesome life, has great attributes (again, trying not to be too specific to protect his identity), and all I had was my humor and my writing. Since I've yet to be published, my humor was left with the job to win over this maiden. That's a lot to ask for from one skill.

What did I do afterward? I thought about the whole situation a lot, trying to come from different view points to see if I could have done anything better, and all I had come up with was, "I'm not sure what I did wrong."

I'm headed to New York to endure the coldest winter they've had and indulge in being a tourist.