Monday, December 8, 2003

The task, heroic; the hero, me

So I go to a party some white girl is throwing for herself. Looking around at the celebrants, I think Leonard Jeffries cannot be all wrong. She asks me, “Have you met anyone interesting?” I say, “You mean ever? I know you don’t mean tonight.”

But because the proper study of mankind is heartless bitches, I wade into this Whitey Biennial in search of god, love, and guns, just like my blogless gonzo forebears.

The party has as its setting a bar other than the one I am used to, and I feel out of sorts. Why should I be wasting time in this bar when I could be happily at home, wasting time in my bar? But although the situation is alien, the results can be the same: drunkenness in public. I order some drinks, talk to some fellow inmates.

Resting from the battleground, I talk a bit to my friend Oliver, the world’s most sensitive straight man. He tells me about a job that’s just come into his PR company, to develop a program for a non-profit branch of the U.S. Army, in which 1% of all proceeds will be donated to peace.

Next thing I know, I lock eyes with Kerry across a crowded musical number. She rushes over to me as if she wants to talk to me ever. She has chubbed out a little for the winter, and it works; those tits would be so nice to come home to, by the fire. It turns out she’s there at a different party being held in the same bar. How’s that for an embarrassing scheduling conflict? Kerry and I weren’t due to run into each other again until 2005 at the earliest. So as Oliver wanders off to turn unsuspecting women into warm puddles of adoration, Kerry and I “catch up” on the very meager, stringy, and unnourishing pieces of news since September.

But what she most wants to do is whine, and your chronicler lets her. She’s whining about her roommate, a woman I had not met or previously heard of. She’s sick of her roommate, whose crime seems to be that she is inferior to Kerry, not only in Kerry’s estimation but that of all of Kerry’s friends.

“She’s such a social liability,” Kerry growls. “She’s shy. No one likes her at all, but I always have to take her to these parties because of course she knows I’m going. But no one wants to talk to her. She just stands around.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” I say.

“But the worst part is — she gets so much out of it! I mean, she gets more out of these parties than she contributes!”

Say what? Now she’s lost me. What the heck kind of vindictiveness is that? I mean, okay, the lady is boring, but now you’re upset that she’s boring and not miserable?

While I’m trying to figure out a reply for this, one of Kerry’s friends joins us, a woman I have never met. Kerry introduces her to me as Erica, the very roommate! And then, of course, escapes.

So I chat with the hated roommate. Here is what I discover, not necessarily in order: she is tall, charming, bright, sincere, blonde, athletic, well-traveled, and has a big rack. Normally at least some of those things would be enough to make her popular. But it really seems true that no one likes her, and, based on her sad sack aura, she knows it. She even launches into this subject, telling me that she is not “memorable,” and is always being introduced to people who talked to her before and don’t know it. As I went around with her at the party, this was borne out.

It was becoming a very disturbing mystery. How had Kerry and the forces of evil convinced an entire planet that this very acceptable girl was worthless? Including the girl herself? Okay, so she’s a little dorky, but that just keeps her human. I remember something like this in William Goldman’s first novel, where there was a girl with big tits who had no friends. I think I’m here on Earth to make sure that never happens again.

Erica, you will be rescued. Just hold on a little longer.

by Jack, December 8, 2003 2:43 AM | More from Drinking & Women | More from Erica | More from Kerry

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late night critic said:

its interesting to me that you felt the need to identify an otherwise unidentified girl as 'some white girl'. if that's the only detail given her, why should we care if she's white or not? then again, up until that miniscule tidbit i was fairly positive you yourself were white. now...not so sure. but confused as to why, once again, i care. in fact, i don't. and i'll keep telling myself that as long as i have to. one of my many theories on women is that they all hate each other for being something that they aren't. hence kerry hates shy beautiful roommate erica for being just that, shy and beautiful. and roommate erica envies kerry for having the social wherewithal to not have to pretend like standing on the sideline is a choice. thus, the animosity is born. oliver seems like an interesting chap, does he actually get laid or is he one of the teeming hordes of men that women think are such "great friends"? ye gods i hate those words.

Jack said:

I am embarrassed that I seem to have suggested that I'm anything other than a Honkey-American. Let me clarify the way in which I was using the term "white" to describe "people" -- I meant to say that they were boring and I didn't like them; you know, like how white people are.

In terms of Oliver, yes, I think women find him attractive, though I don't like to pry. In terms of why women hate each other, I'd like to get some input from some of our female readers who often seem to hate each other.

Thanks for posting, Mr. Critic. Anything that keeps you from competing with a blog of your own.

late night critic said:

I don't have the time, energy or personal motivation to do a blog of my own. not only that, its much more satisfying criticizing yours.

girl said:

I like other women fine. Sometimes I dislike them at first, but usually learn to like something about them. Occassionally, I end up hating them, but this is usually when they are just plain selfish and mean.

Men are very interested in the concept of women hating each other. I think it relieves them of the notion that we are nicer than them. In fact, I generally think we are. The hating-kind - or the hate-worthy kind - are the exceptions.

Sometimes, I hate other men too. But this is usually after an exhaustive understanding of them. Men often hate each other and go to war for it.

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