The Incredible Squatty Man

You know...short people...when they get the slightest bit of muscle all of a sudden they start to look like midgets. Everything seems to be more squatty. So unfair. Perhaps it's just me. I mean, Tom Cruise is sporting some guns in the new "Mission Impossible" movie and he looks pretty sleek. I mean, the guy is over 40 and although standing next to Katie Holmes gives you perspective, I'd say he's done his part in the upkeep. Here's me slathered in chains (photo by Shannon @ http://theprimalsophisticate.com/author/theprimalsophisticate/). The Gladiator of Christmas Present:

153 lbs.

When I started to get muscle, I put it on all at once. It's strange...I use to get a lot of short jokes. But not so much anymore. I'm not sure why. I can't imagine anyone in my business being anymore sensitive. And I doubt getting bulky has frightened people in submission. In fact, I was expecting more jokes. I dunno...I never even really considered myself all that short. Until I went to a gym one day (about 8 years ago) saw a short dude and thought to myself "that dude is pretty short" only to realize, after looking in the mirror, he was taller than me. That was crushing to say the least. I know now why my mom was always telling me to stand up straight. I slouched a lot 'cause I thought I was James Dean. And that made me a rebel. But it only made me look like a hunchback. Quasimodo Without A Cause.

In this blog, I figure I'd list good things about being short:
-You're at boob level with tall women
-center of gravity is lower so you have more balance. And in case you're drunk, less distance to fall
-No knee problem
-can wear kid clothes or jeans you had in high school
-kids tend to listen to your stories, because you're talking to them at eye level

Okay, I couldn't think of anything else...because it straight up sucks sometimes. Mostly when it comes to the ladies. Yes, ladies want taller. Because they like heels. Not to wear, but to look good in. And I'm pretty sure they don't want to look like some high school prom photo. Dating pool is limited. Think about it...even short girls want tall dudes. Oh well, anyway...

...I gotta tell you about my friend that just broke up with his girlfriend. He gave me permission to recount it and form my own opinion so...I don't feel like a complete douche. So he tells me that his girlfriend of a year breaks up with him over the phone. A year. A phone. Yes, she was that spineless.

The girl in question, I've met. She's quiet and demure. Somehow he seethed with judgmental eyes. Which yielded itself to a streak of superiority towards our cro-magnon behavior. Sometimes. Yes, we act like numbskulls a lot of times. We're bored and somewhat still young, so there is always going to be a level of chicanery. Especially in a town where some have profited from it. But we're not out to be famous for any of it. We just like to blow off steam.

It was a 4th of July party we had. The very same where my sobriety began. I recall sitting in my living room watching a movie. Real drunk. This was AFTER I had woken up from the first session of drinking and here I was, beer in hand. My friend's girlfriend was sitting next to me. Magically appeared like some banshee. Actually, she could've been sitting there for hours, but my brain just tuned in to her presence. She sat quietly watching the movie next to me. It seemed as if she'd separated herself from the party. I decided to engage in small talk. My bloated sweaty face turned to her and asked her about her band. You  see, she played in a band. At that point I didn't know this. I thought it was just a hobby type thing. She never played anything the many times she's visited us. Not even mentioned it. Goes without saying, it probably wasn't important to tell me, because on her radar of importance...I might as well be Pan Am (they don't exist anymore).

She seemed genuinely interested in talking about her band. Then she talked to me about a tour she was about to go on. Okay, my math was working overtime...this wasn't just a hobby anymore, but straight up a real band with real shows. Most people would consider this a detail worth bragging about. Not her. Remember...I'm Pan Am. So, being that I'm only interested in what people say when I'm completely out of my mind drunk, I ask her how long she'd be away. She said a month.
On the road.
In a van.
With other musicians.

Now, as a kid watching "Partridge Family" I never expected hanky-panky. Mostly because they were all related, but I'm a grown-ass adult now...and not only a red light go off. I thought I'd won large prize at a carnival. This much freedom on either part is recipe for infidelity. Musicians aren't known for modesty, humility, loyalty, cleanliness, common sensinality, and other words I made up to illustrate how reckless that lifestyle can be.

C'mon, we're no dummies. But my friend seemed to want to remain loyal. In my mind, I had pegged him for the errant mate. Boy was I wrong. Phone call. End of relationship. A couple of scenarios come to mind. And none of them good. Or satisfactory as to having questions answered. Because you know something...?

...we're not always going to get closure in life. Do I want my friend to know definitively in the months leading up to this what was going on through her mind? Not really. It couldn't be anything good. And quite possibly could prolong hurt. When my best relationship ended that's what I was seeking. The "definitive answer." No answer was going to fulfill this empty hurt need that we all want. In a loving relationship or one that seemed like real love, there are just too many questions that come into play. Instead of the broken record, I think, as we get older, we just abandoned all that on the table. And that in itself seems to be a small victory on both sides.

You know what's a small victory?...I made it thru this month without a drink.