[As August 2008 marks the close of our seventh year of weekly publication, we shall spend this month enjoying "the blast from the past" with selections from Poor Mojo's Almanac(k): Year One. Please, enjoy! — Your Giant Squid, Editor-in-Chief, PMjA]
[originally published in issue #14]
First of all, before we get any deeper into this painful subject, I'd just like to make one thing perfectly clear: this is not a cry for help. Rather, it is a rational, clear-headed observation of my current relationship situation.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why doesn't anyone love me? I can't figure it out. I am, by my own account, a complete gentleman, a fine lover, and an ideal mate. Why are these plain truths lost on the female population?
Let's examine the facts in the case. It has been three years since I last had a girlfriend. Since then, I've only even come close to having a relationship on two occasions. The first was a gruelling nightmare in which my feelings were cruelly toyed with by someone I cared a great deal for, and the second was aborted by the painful "let's be friends" speech. Two more instances in a seemingly endless procession of women who have been completely unable to recognize me for what I am: a diamond-in-the-rough perfect boyfriend.
First, the superficial stuff. I don't think it's my appearance that repulses women so. I mean, I'm no male model, but I'm no slouch either. An ex once compared me to Nick Cave, which isn't so bad. I mean, he's semi-famous. I'd rather draw that comparison than one to, say, Ted Koppel. Or that fat kid from The Goonies.
I am kind, gentle, and courteous. I never approach a woman with anything but the most noble intentions. My friend's call me "The Priest," so saintly am I. I've listened to so many of my female friends (of which I have many, as I've always related to women better than men) bitch and moan about how they can't find a decent, nice guy. When I hear these stories, I just want to scream at them and wave my hands wildly and yell "Open your freakin' eyes! I'm right here!" But of course, I don't. I'm far too sensitive a soul to do something like that. I usually just smile comfortingly and say "Yeah, that's tough. Want to go buy some ice cream and cry on my shoulder for a little while?"
In bed, I am a gentle, yet passionate lover. My partner's pleasure and enjoyment are foremost in my mind during love-making. I am not squeemish about any facet of the female body, and delight in all forms of foreplay, if you catch my drift. I've been told by at least one ex that I am the best lover she's ever had, and let me tell you, this girl took many lovers. I'm adventurous and fun in the sack, but I also know when to be tender and sweet. Oh, and I got the stamina of a mule. Spread the word, because it seems that women are completely unaware of these facts!
I am a really cool guy, too! I have good taste in music, from new stuff like The Crystal Method to old-school favorites like The Joy Division. I play bass guitar, for Christ's sake! How cool is that? I have all sorts of quirks and foibles that make me such an interesting person to be with, like my all cereal diet. I'm intelligent, witty, and charismatic. I have a winning, subtle, enchantingly self-deprecating sense of humor and a personal charm that really is endearing if you take the time to get to know me, which most women seem loathe to do for some reason. What the hell?
I even have a good job, by Christ! I'm not one of those shiftless ne'er-do-wells that bounce from one dead-end job to the next, spending most of their money on lottery tickets and liquor. I'll never have to ask a girlfriend for a loan, or have to skimp on dates or gifts. I'm financially stable and not at all cheap. I like spending money on people I care about, but I'm careful not to be audacious or tacky with my spending. You'd never know this if you spoke to most women, of course, because they all seem to have the notion in their heads that I'm some Scrooge-like prick who pinches every penny, or else a layabout slacker with no ambition in life save to watch TV and pick my nose!
I'm sick of this crap! I'm so lonely! I'm a good man, isn't that worth anything these days? Are all the women in this town blind? Can't they see a good thing when it's right in front of them? Is there some conspiracy to keep me single and alone forever? Why, why, why?
I'm so bummed, I feel like chewing on aluminum foil.
[UPDATE 2008: Jason Michael is now happily married. We love you, Jason!]
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