F.I.T.H. (Working Title): Chapter 1 (part 1) - The Set Up and Reel In

Now Playing: Non-fiction/Observational Autobio...
Topic: Wonder Years - College




“It was a dark and stormy night, and then there were her eyes, as stormy and dark as the night itself. The electricity from those stormy, lightning-filled pupils connected with the electrodes in my own...”

Ok, you get the general gist of where we’re gong. That’s right, you meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after in the Wonderful World of Disney. Yeah, right. And South Central LA is well known for its spiritual harmony and followers of the Grateful Dead (praise be to Jerry). Nope, this isn’t the way it happens. Sorry, go directly to jail, do not pass Go.

Let’s try something different – say, reality. You have a free night and you’re ready to go dancin’, therefore you go. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop you – hell, it was fate that chose this path for you in the first place. You had a dozen friends who wanted to go catch that flick with you; what was it again? Oh yeah, Singles, that Seattle Sound Bite movie. Thing is, all of ‘em flake at the last minute except for your best friend, and the two of you don’t wanna sit around getting depressed by a romance film. So you call another dozen friends, and none are home.


This is weird. Something is in the air, so you grab it and run. You’ve got the energy, your buddy does, too, so you’re off

Does this sound at all familiar? Granted that dances, clubs, and bars have all been traditional meat markets and pick-up scenes, but they don’t always have to be. Especially if you don’t have the slightest idea of how to go about partaking in these modern mating rituals. I know I don’t. I go, dance, then cross my fingers. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but sometimes...

It’s a crowded dance, the music is good. The bass surrounds the dancing beast like a well worn saddle, and rhythm pumps through the veins of eve the most timid of onlookers. Heat is in the air, when it suddenly snaps, and the connection is made. The eyes, those all-telling, ages old soul windows reel two parts of the beast together, all the while letting its silence reign supreme over the pulsating music.

It’s there, and there is no way to miss it, not even if you subscribe to the 2x4 theory of attraction, as I do. That is, a person has to smack me upside the head with a plank of wood to let me know they like me, and even then, if I’m bending over to smell a flower, they may have to try again on the backswing.

Whether you meet this possible Other in a pick-up joint or a Pachyderm house at the local zoo, it all amounts to the same thing: a mutual interest that each participant wants to explore. Experience is not always the key issue, either, for both can have “equal” experiences, though one could be more socially adept than the other.

The two of you get to talking, and your friend talks to their friend, and all goes well. This could be the start of something, something that is neither a one night stand nor a casual affair. You can feel it. The Set Up has happened, and you didn’t even realize it. Where the hell did all this come from, anyway? What is all this “feel it” crap since you’ve sworn off feelings since your last relationship, the one that didn’t work out so hot? You still haven’t figured out whose underwear those were and how they got way up there.

This whole set up deal is a part of the ritual, but many times it isn’t realized until after the fact. Ex post facto, dude. A person’s heart can completely set them up without consent, even dragging an unwilling victim to the final destination. Next stop, the first phone call, then date, then... well, who knows what then. Just because your own heart has joined the Olympic gymnastics team doesn’t always mean that the Other’s has, too.

There are many degrees of this whole set up. At one end of the spectrum is total nausea and violent illness at the thought of even seeing that person on the street a half a block away because you know that in that direction lies rejection, you know it, you can taste it. This sort of reaction tends to be a little on the pessimistic side. At the other end is the “if I’m called, I might be inclined to respond”. This I can only barely consider a set up, as it is close to an all out rejection. Still it isn’t totally blowing off the other person, so there is some hope in there somewhere.

Most of us will fall between these two categories somewhere, by taking the initiative ourselves – making fools of ourselves while making some sort of basic human communication. “How about dinner Thursday?” This question doesn’t usually resemble “Shper de berber babur?” in the English language.

A few dates and you haven’t even started holding hands. That’s fine – you’ve never gone this slowly before, but it’s worth the wait. As the adage goes, friends make better lovers, or something like that. Besides, this person, this potential Other, has never been in a relationship before. Sure, warning signals go up, but you shoot ‘em down just as quickly. There’s no reason for alarm, just take it slow, cowpoke.

Funny things, these warning signals. No matter what they are put there for – virginity, disease, strange obsession with molars – this is usually Logic’s way of saying “Woah, nelly. Mebbe y’all should oughtta think thisun through a bit, pardner.” And, on rare occasions, these signals will work. More often, they tend to work more in women than in men, but this changes as time does.

In both males and females, the heart can and will overload the brain. And by heart, I don’t just mean hormones, but they do play a tiny little, inconspicuous part. Hardly needs to be mentioned, right? Riiiiiight. Your heart will either ignore the cerebrum’s ranting and raving, thereby letting the body go for it, or it will overload the gray matter with so much needless information that logic will become ineffectual. This last plan could backfire, though, and Logic could stop Emotion’s progress dead in its tracks with an uppercut of confusion


The movie reference points me to having written this in 1992, when I was a young laddie... earthwulf