The Anatomy of a Run

(A work of realistic fiction)

Sitting on the couch on a Saturday morning an infomercial for P90X comes on the TV...

You put down the Cheetos. Hmm, the sun is out. Maybe you should go for a run.

Weather.com app says it 37 degrees. You put on your one pair of running pants and a hoodie. You look like Rocky. You feel like Rocky. You’re going to own this run. You’re going like five miles.

You step out the front door onto the porch. You cue up the workout playlist and do approximately 10 seconds of stretching.

Strides 1,2,3...

Oh man you’re not Rocky, you’re muscles are tight and your joints crack. You’re already tired. Shit, maybe you’ll only go like 2 miles. You’re a realist after all. You begin to think that maybe you don’t even look like Rocky.

You hear birds chirping and turn onto a beautiful riverside road. It is nice to just be outside, you feel like you should do this more often. It definitely beats running on a treadmill.

Strides 500,501,502...

Hell yeah, you are the man. You haven’t run in like two weeks and you’re crushing this run. You must be a super-human athlete. You could have been an olympian. You hurdle a few park benches, do some pullups on a tree branch.

You skip four songs until “Gonna Fly Now” comes on. You run hard through that one and then even harder when R. Kelly’s “World’s Greatest” follows.

Strides 2021,2022,2023...

Suddenly, bam. Uh oh, you might puke. Your hammie is so tight all of a sudden. The U2 song that you hate and keep forgetting to take off the workout playlist comes on as if to taunt you. Your pace slows considerably. Breathing becomes labored.

Oh shit, you’re like two miles from home and running out of steam. Better turn around here. Why are these shoes so heavy? You must keep going.  

Suddenly people are passing you on the left. You hate them all. You curse the inventor of Cheetos and that damn cheetah in their ads.

Why are you so lazy? Your heel begins to shoot bolts of pain up through your spine. You think about all the people you know who seemingly never work out and stay in great shape.

The cramp in your side screams along with the Katy Perry song that only you know you bought from iTunes. You reach a crosswalk and decide that walking would probably be beneficial. You then shame yourself into sprinting up the next hill. You cannot go on. You stop and walk again.

(Slower) Strides 3589,3590,3591...

Oh man, why did you go to that buffet last night? You’re so fat and slow. You couldn’t even get through 3 miles. How could you have let yourself get to this point? You make a resolution to get jacked for the summer.

Your building finally appears in the distance. You open the door to your apartment. You try to talk yourself into doing push ups or crunches or something. Instead, you vow to hit the gym tomorrow.  

You fill a big glass with cold water. You glance over at the table and see the bag of Cheetos sitting where you left them. You decide you must finish the bag while your metabolism is spiked. Can’t have that temptation in the house if you’re going to get jacked. Is it too early for a beer?

It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's...a Meteor??

I’m a fan of disaster movies. Yes, I try to see most of the Oscar worthy films each year and I like to think I have good taste when it comes to cinema. Still, I enjoy a good Michael Bay-esque huge budget apocalyptic robots, aliens or meteorites disaster film. I have a weakness, okay, we all have them. 

With that off my chest, I have another confession. Not only do I enjoy these movies but they stir a kind of excitement within. As the hero runs around helping people and battling whatever force is hell bent on planetary destruction, I realize that I want to be that guy. The thought of being in that situation rouses my sense of adventure.

Well, really the only scenario where that’s going to happen is if we are somehow under attack (otherwise, my life consists of going to work and typing on this laptop). It’s not that I wish for some kind of catastrophe to befall us all so that I can be entertained and live out my fantasy. When the Mayan calendar ended, I wasn’t looking out my window with fingers crossed hoping for the opportunity. I just think that if some kind of Armageddon were to occur, it might be as exciting as a Michael Bay movie. Surely I’m not the only one.


Well, that theory has been debunked. A meteor came crashing through the earth’s atmosphere yesterday morning, causing some minor damage in central Russia. Let me say that again because I probably (hopefully) will never be able to repeat it…a meteor crashed into the earth. There was a sonic boom resulting from the chunk of space rock entering the atmosphere faster than the speed of sound, windows blew out and debris littered the area. As Mike Krumboltz points out in his Yahoo! New blog, the scene resembled the disaster film “Cloverfield.” 

As I scan through the video footage (on the same blog) that has already been spread all over the internet, I realize how wrong my assumption was. There’s no feeling of excitement welling up in my chest as I watch this real footage. A fireball streaking across the sky, a blinding flash and a concussive blast smashing windows is just plain scary when you’re not seated in a theater. Thankfully nobody has been reported dead as a result (although CNN is reporting that at least 1,000 people suffered injuries, mostly from falling glass). When I first saw the report this morning, my jaw involuntarily dropped, and the only thing I could say was “no way.” No exhilaration, no entertainment, just uneasiness. 

Who says the next one won’t hit the building I’m sitting in right now? There is also an asteroid rocketing past our planet at an uncomfortable speed and proximity, but is apparently unrelated to the meteor. If that’s true (which is hard for me to believe) then that makes this scenario all the more frightening. An asteroid and a meteor on the same day? Eerie. In a video interview on CNN, Bill Nye explains how humans are aware of about 1% of all the asteroids that are out there. That’s frightening, and he went on to say that an asteroid the size of our closely orbiting friend, if it struck earth, could level a major city. He also repeatedly stated that we should all be looking up at the sky.

I know I’ll be keeping one eye raised. It’s an awakening experience to think about how feeble we are in the grand scheme of things. To hear about how we could easily be wiped off the planet with no warning. The disaster flicks are purely fictional but scenarios like that could actually become reality. There’s nothing adventurous about that. But then again, what did Captain Hook say? “To die would be a great adventure.”


Value life today, folks. This planet is a gift.

Mike Krumboltz's Yahoo! News Blog
CNN's Bill Nye asteroid interview

The Four Seasons

As I shovel out and survey the mass of snow here in New England dumped by a historic blizzard named after a cartoon fish, I can’t help but think about the progression of the seasons. I’ve lived in New England for the entirety of my life but I can remember on family vacations to Florida in February thinking “why can’t it just always be this warm?” I’m not even close to being a meteorologist so I won’t try to get into low pressure systems and dew points, but why do people live in the cold? It’s a question worth asking ourselves.

Some people say, “I’m moving to Florida someday.” Some people actually do it, because they truly hate the cold, but most people just bear it. Maybe it has to do with finances or the stresses of actually picking up and moving your entire life. As I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate each of the seasons for what they are, yes even winter (maybe it’s just a defense mechanism for when I’m walking to the bus and its 5 degrees and snowing down my jacket).

The seasons balance each other out, they are a perfect metaphor for the ups and downs of life. We endure the uncomfortable and less desirable winter months because we know they give way to the beauty and warmth of spring and summer. We wouldn’t be able to appreciate each season if not for the others.

Let’s begin with summer. In most regions of the country summer is hot and humid. At first, we in the Northeast are so excited for the change from cold to warmth that we welcome the humidity with short sleeves and trips to the beach. We can hang out outdoors and bask in the sunshine. By August, we are hunkered down in the air conditioning trying not to move for fear of breaking a sweat (I’ve found that sticking my head in the freezer can provide temporary relief). We quickly become sick of the heat and we begin to pine for the relief of cooler temperatures. 

Then like a sliver that finally relents and leaves its unwelcome habitat in your skin, autumn breaks. The air is once again comfortable enough to venture outdoors and spend time picking apples and peeping leaves (this phrase always creeps me out, it sounds like I’m spying on the leaves through their bedroom window). A light jacket and a cup of pumpkin spiced coffee, admittedly this is my favorite time of year (and not just because there is an excuse to try all of the pumpkin flavored beers). But alas, it is also the shortest and we all know what comes next. 

At first, winter isn’t so bad. We welcome her with the celebration of Christmas and then the New Year, and we think “hmm, maybe it’ll be okay this year.” Skip ahead to March, there’s been snow on the ground for two months and you have run out of things in your house to fix, books to read, and even Netflix is tapped. Your skin is so dry it cracks as you reach for the remote. This is when you think, “I’m moving to Florida.” Just as you think about raising that ice skate blade to your throat, you hear the weatherman say those magic words “60 degrees.”

The first day of warm weather in the spring season is a joyous occasion. People are wearing short sleeves and sunglasses, skateboarding and bike riding, sunbathing in the park. Sure it’s barely warm enough to thaw the frozen pond, but it’s warm. Soon it’s not just warm, but the flowers start to bloom and the tree buds explode, it’s colorful and it smells great all the time. It’s magical compared to that inconsiderate b*&#$ winter. And then the magic fades as the heat becomes unbearable again and the cycle starts all over.

Can you imagine living in a place where the temperature rarely fluctuated? Every day was 73 degrees and sunny? Sounds awesome to us New Englanders in February, but how long would it really be paradise? Not long would be my guess. We would begin to long for some kind of change in weather, maybe even miss snow a little. That’s because each season, with its peaks and valleys, makes us appreciate the other three.

If we didn’t have to endure the cold and snow of winter, would those few months when the warmth creeps in and the flowers bloom be so glorious? They wouldn’t. There wouldn’t be any transition in the plant life if the temperature never altered, no bloom, no color, no smell. If we didn’t have the blaring heat of summer would we appreciate the cooling breeze and crisp mornings of the fall season? Nope. Once again, the leaves wouldn’t change and all that colorful leaf peeping (shudder) wouldn’t exist. The extremes of the seasons really help us tolerate their opposites. When we have one of those perfect weather days, we absolutely love it. It’s a spectacle and not just the norm. 

I think I’d rather shovel and ice my head than not appreciate a beautiful day. It builds character, right? Wish me luck, I’m going outside.     

The Tattoo Age

I remember the days when you crossed the street at the sight of a guy covered with tattoos walking toward you on the sidewalk. If you had a tattoo you were likely grouped with the likes of biker gangs, inmates, or strippers. Maybe I was just way more judgmental than the average young man. Don’t worry, this perspective has changed in my eyes and the stigma that accompanied tattoos has seemingly shifted. Today I would venture a guess that about 30% of those between 18 and 30 have tattoos. It’s an accepted form of expression. Folks, we’ve entered “The Tattoo Age.”

Make no mistake, I support it and am even among that suspected 30% (but you’ll only see mine at the beach).

When I was 18 I decided that I wanted to get an ear pierced. It was partly because everyone was listening to hip-hop music at the time and for some reason, even in a small suburban town in Connecticut, I wanted to be a tad gangster. It was also partly because I could do it, it was an expression of my independence. Thankfully, that phase didn’t last long and earrings can be removed just as quickly as they are put in. Tattoos, however, are a different story.

I thought long and hard before deciding to permanently mark my skin with ink. A few ideas came and passed and after a hefty price quote for an intricate crest design in college, I decided I would have to wait until I actually had some kind of income. By the time I was gainfully employed, I had finally developed an idea that didn’t sour after a few months. After approving the artist’s sketch of what it would look like, it was made permanent. As I noted above, part of my plan was to make sure that it was easily concealable so that it could be hidden from view if desired (it’s on my back, get your mind out of the gutter).

When I see these young artsy folks walking around with colorful and intricate ink all over their arms and legs and necks and hands, I think about how that stuff will never go away (and how they afford what must have cost thousands of dollars). I respect the desire for self-expression and I even admire the uniqueness of some of the designs I have seen, but when you’re 80 what are your grandchildren going to say about that blue and purple flowered arm sleeve? 

I’m curious to see what the future holds for my tattooed generation. I can picture what a walk through the Boston Common will look like when I’m 50. On a 95 degree August day in 2037, all the middle aged men are walking around with long pants and long sleeve shirts buttoned up to the neck. The youths have rebelled against their parents, wearing shorts, tank tops and clean, unmarked skin. There isn’t a tattoo parlor for 30 square miles as they only exist in retirement homes and suburban neighborhoods. Nationally, those who invested in the tattoo removal industry are millionaires. Retired NBA and NFL players are rarely seen outside of their homes for fear of embarrassing their own children. The now middle aged cast of Jersey Shore has been secluded on the abandoned Alcatraz Island where they can be free to show off their tattoos wearing tank tops and tanning. Tours are still available to observe them in their natural habitat (okay that may be a stretch).

Or maybe I’m way off and everyone will have tattoos everywhere. Ink will become scarce and an underground smuggling system will emerge rivaling the drug trade. Your affluence will be expressed by the quantity and intricacy of your ink. Could go either way I suppose. ;) 

No matter how the future of tattoos plays out, the fact remains that today they are trending (if you can call a permanent body marking a trend). With the young adult demographic they are an accepted form of self-expression. Hopefully, those in the elder demographics are also beginning to look past the artwork on someone’s body before passing judgment. Will this time go down in history books along with the “Gilded Age,” or “The Enlightenment?” Doubtful, but the “Tattoo Age” is upon us. 

Remember kids, think before you ink.           

The Self Made Man

Abraham Lincoln. When most people hear this name I would imagine they think of our 16th President, the man who pulled a nation through Civil War and essentially ended slavery. Maybe you think of Daniel Day-Lewis and Steven Spielberg. I won’t pretend that this post isn’t partially driven by the success of the recent movie about the legendary man. I would like to focus not on his accomplishments so much, but more on how he was able to put himself in a position to make them happen. 

Abraham Lincoln was born to a poor farm family in Kentucky. He lived in a series of small cabins with his family in the woods of the Midwest and spent only a small amount  of time in a classroom  in his youth. He learned to read and write with help from his step-mother and became literate through self-perseverance. He had a rough childhood, his father wasn’t exactly a warm and supportive man, especially after his mother passed away when he was just a boy. If not for the love of his stepmother, he may have been lost in a world of grief and anger.

Can you imagine what kinds of sorrow he must have experienced? A life of hard labor as a young man, a father hardened by the work he had to endure just to keep his family alive, and then losing his mother? Of course, death was more common in the early 1800’s, many common ailments we endure today often resulted in death back then. Even so, I imagine that a young man’s loss would have the same impact then as it does today. Many historians agree that Abe probably battled depression throughout his life, enduring bouts of sadness and despair.

Abe never let his struggles keep him down for long. He was determined to make something of himself, and he left home shortly after he came of age. He found work where he could, as a clerk in a general store, working his way up to postmaster, doubling as a land surveyor, all the while educating himself in law and politics. He gained notoriety and eventually threw his hat into the political ring and was elected a member of the Illinois House of Representatives on his second try (Basler, Roy P.).

In the midst of his growing success came the news of the death of his sister. Another tragedy that must have deeply saddened and troubled the young man. But onward he pushed and after a stall in his political career, he began to practice law in Springfield, Illinois. He couldn’t stay out of the ring for long, however, and he was soon back in the Illinois House of Representatives. He was then elected to Congress and from there, as we know, he was chosen to move into the biggest house on Pennsylvania Avenue (Basler, Roy P.).

Wow. Inspiring to say the least. A young man comes from the woods of Kentucky, escapes his most likely fate of a life of farming rocky soil, educates himself and busts his hump all the way into the White House. He started with no money and no means, often struggling to pay debts. He was no doubt filled with resentment, working hard and long hours, battling the pangs of depression and sorrow from years of loss. Yet, he persevered.

Think about what it would take today for someone to come from a farm in Illinois with no education and end up the most important man in the country. It would be the equivalent of President Obama having only attended kindergarten. It’s simply not possible. Were people dumber back then? No that can’t be true, we elected Arnold and Jesse “The Body.” Are there just too many distractions nowadays? No that can’t be true either, we have the answers to everything at our fingertips (I just found the names of Jesse Ventura’s wife and kids on my phone). So how did Abe Lincoln do it?

Simply put, he was one of a kind. Now I know that 1850 was much different than 2013, that argument is not lost on me. Everything is more complicated and technological. Becoming the POTUS now is a completely different endeavor. But that shouldn’t take away from what Abraham Lincoln endured to change his future and even our own. He is a model of success that every man, woman and child should admire.


I think we all have times when we feel like  life has given us the short end of the stick. At those moments we should think of this example and remember that our fate is largely in our own hands. Of course there are outside factors and other people who influence us along the way, but what we put into life with our own hard work has the greatest importance.      
___________________________________
Basler, Roy P. “Timeline of Abraham Lincoln’s Political Career.” Timeline of Abraham Lincoln’s Political Career. N.p., 2012. Web. 24 Jan. 2013.
       

The Silver Lining of Struggle

Life is a struggle. Love is a battlefield. No pain no gain. All overused clichés, right? Yes. However, there is some existential truth behind the pop lyrics and sports mantras. We need to struggle at some point in our lives. Struggle is good for us, it teaches us to work hard and to appreciate the good things that we have. Without hardship, life would be one big bowl of rose scented ease. It would be slow and relaxed. Where’s the fun in that?


There is a general belief in our society that I would like to point out. We are told to save for retirement as soon as possible so we can play golf and sit on the beach in Florida as soon as we hit 62. Buy a big flat screen, 3D, HD, smart TV so we can really enjoy our leisure time. Call a stock broker so our money can make money for us. We save our pennies so we can buy the products that are designed and marketed to encourage our leisure. This is all well and good. I want a big screen TV some day and I wouldn’t mind playing a little more golf (or I should say some at all), but before I get there, I know I have a lot of work to do.


There seems to be an increasing notion that the ultimate goal should be to lead comfortable, leisurely lives. The idea of struggle seems to suggest that we are doing something wrong, that we have somehow failed. We expect immediate returns on our investments and if we’re not living comfortably according to plan, we messed up somewhere along the line. If you agree with this statement, then what I’m trying to convey here may be hard to digest, but here goes. We are supposed to struggle through life. Now, I’m not just making a blanket statement that I blindly hold onto as truth because I’m not what most would consider “successful.” This is no statement of hope for a better life somewhere down the line. God said it and history proves it.


“If there is no struggle, there is no progress… This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle.” These words were delivered by Frederick Douglass in 1857 in a preface to the Civil War (Taylor, Quintard). He was raised on a slave holding plantation taught himself to read and write and eventually became a respected writer and public speaker for abolition and women’s rights (Fremarjo Enterprises). He knew the value of hardship. Obviously slavery was far from a necessary struggle, but general adversity is an important step toward the appreciation of life.

Jesus was a man who travelled from city to city preaching about love, both of God and of each other. He recognized that there was struggle in life and even told his disciples “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Whether you accept the man as your savior or not, he recognized that he had to endure the greatest struggle of all in order for his message to forever impact mankind. He was tortured and killed by the very race of men to which he had been preaching the power of love. He endured the ultimate struggle in order to preserve the idea of goodness. Death can sometimes result from struggle, but without it the world would never change. Out of struggle comes new life, better life.


Okay, let’s bring this back down to earth and present day. How does this apply to our daily lives? Well, most of us struggle on a daily basis, right? No matter how small or large that struggle is, doesn’t it make those moments of peace and serenity even better? What if you won the lottery today? You took home some exorbitant amount of money that ensured you would never have to work again, that all your bills would be paid forever. What would you do? How would you live after that? Buy a huge house and a couple cars, all those products made to encourage your life of leisure? How long would that actually make you happy, though? What would you do all day every day, with nothing to occupy your time? Most, I think, would start a non-profit or volunteer their time and resources to helping others or solving one of the world’s problems. Essentially take on another struggle. Circle of life people.


From the beginning of life we go to school and we study, we work hard to learn as much as we can. We go to college to learn even more and to prepare for a career. We have to study a little harder than we did before. We then land jobs that require us to work hard to accomplish a common goal and to earn a living. We fall in love and get married and buy houses. Then the cycle starts over when we raise children of our own. All of these stages require effort and determination. We work for that ideal retirement, for that cold beer at the end of the day, for the Sunday of relaxing and watching football. If all these luxuries just existed without the necessary hardship, how would our world be different? Would we be uneducated and lazy? Sounds like a terrible existence.


The investments that yield the most rewarding profits are those that require sweat and will power, time and energy. Someone who takes care of a home with their own two hands will more fully enjoy the benefits of that investment. Someone who pays for their own education and diligently studies to earn a degree will more completely appreciate that accomplishment. Someone who dedicates time and effort to a marriage or parenthood will truly value the love received in return. Put in the work, enjoy the dessert. Work before play. More clichés (yeah I’m a poet).  


We should also understand what that work does for us, beyond the results. Beyond hard work is the general concept of struggle. Be it in application to civil war or working your way up the corporate ladder, it is encompassing of all the exertion a certain need requires. It is tough to simplify this concept into one word, but struggle makes us stronger. Struggle teaches us about ourselves and allows us to adapt and grow. It allows us to discover how to best survive.


I’m thankful that my life hasn’t been a cake walk. I know that I’m better suited for the ways of the world. So, next time you’re having a self-pity party, crying into your Ben & Jerry’s pint, just remember that your struggle is valuable. You are lifting emotional weights that are building emotional muscles that will serve you for the rest of your life. Struggle is good for you, wear it like a badge.  

_______________________________
Taylor, Quintard. An Online Reference Guide to African American History. n.d.
Fremarjo Enterprises, Inc. A Short Biography of Frederick Douglass. n.d. Fremarjo Enterprises, Inc.

Catch-22

I was struggling to come up with a new topic this week when I had a dream that someone randomly told me they had enjoyed my post about the social disparity between men and women in the dating world. In reality, I have been formulating this theory for a few years now and I guess that was the push I needed to put it into words. So, here goes.

My girlfriend and I rarely fight. Sure we have disagreements, but we are generally able to put our egos aside and compromise on most issues. Probably the most heated debate we have had does not involve politics or national security, but of course revolves around the controversial relationship between Taylor Swift and John Mayer. Now, I’m sure you can guess who sided with which celebrity and you may even be thinking, “How can you not side with sweet, innocent TayTay.” I will reluctantly admit that I am (or was) sort of a John Mayer fan, as much as a 26 year old man should be. Out of the catchy acoustic singer-song writer he emerged as one of the best guitar players of his generation. The brilliant “Continuum” is one of my favorite albums, but ever since his music as well as his character have taken a collective nosedive. I’m aware that he may very well be all of the scumbag the media portrays and this is in no way meant to be taken in defense of the man.


With that disclaimer out of the way, John Mayer may not be the poster boy for this argument, but nonetheless our debate lends a pathway to the thesis of this post. Namely, that there is a real catch-22 when it comes to the dating scene.


John Mayer has been linked to a slew of attractive female celebrities. He has also said some very disturbing things publicly which contributed to his far less than sterling reputation, but for the sake of this argument let’s say that all we know about his private life is that he has dated a lot of women. There are certainly men out there who are looking to use women for their own satisfaction, with little to no regard for the feelings they may hurt or the hearts they may break (the cast of a certain MTV show comes to mind). I would like to leave these men out of this discussion, I certainly agree that they have earned their unscrupulous reputations. I do, however, genuinely believe that the majority of men are looking for love and ultimately a life-long partner. These are the ones to which I am referring in this discussion.


Now let’s get down to brass tacks. A man who date several women in succession (not at once, that’s a whole other issue), will always be given a reputation as a womanizer. Even when his intentions are strictly above the belt, if a man tells a woman that she isn’t the one (you probably shouldn’t use those words, but let’s be honest we all know what “I’m just not ready for a relationship” means) she will call him a dog. To his face, maybe, but to those in her social circles, definitely. If a man does this with several women, then he is doomed to roam the earth labeled as someone who can’t be trusted.


I think it is commonly agreed upon that most of us will sample a few rotten apples before we find the best one. Men and women, gay and straight, will have good and bad relationships that will come to an end. Breakups are messy and hurtful things, not envied by anyone, but they are a virtual certainty. My question is, once again, why must the man who initiates a breakup because he has decided that the woman is not a good match be deemed a womanizer? Obviously he shouldn’t just carry on in the relationship when his heart isn’t in it, that wouldn’t be fair to her. The best thing he can do is to have an honest discussion about his feelings toward her, using carefully chosen language to cause as little pain as possible. It didn’t work out, move on. But it almost never ends there. He must then be dragged through the mud, his intentions distorted to appear dishonest, when in fact the exact opposite was true.


So, the well-intentioned man, having dated several women in his attempt to find love, suddenly has a reputation mirroring those reckless and decadent men mentioned above. And thus, women have come to not only think, but openly declare that all men are out to use women.
Just as I have acknowledged that not all men have devious intentions, I should probably also recognize that surely (at least hopefully) not all women have this view of the opposite sex. Additionally, I’m sure there are also women who have short sighted, self-pleasing intentions toward men (there are plenty of names dedicated to the description of such women). However, women haven’t been grouped into one destructive stereotype, as have men.


What about an honest women with the intention of finding love? Does she not sometimes initiate a breakup or tell someone she’s just not that into him and cause a man heartbreak? Of course, and when she does her reputation doesn’t suffer, she isn’t lumped in with the aforementioned group of women (with the not so nice names). She’s just looking for “the one,” just looking for love. Which is true. So why is the same not true for men? Catch-22.


I’m not trying to start a gender war or anything. Women are great, superior to men in so many ways. They mature faster, smell better, and are statistically better educated. All I’m saying is, take a look at John Mayer’s dating history compared to Taylor Swift’s. Not much different, both long and full of good looking celebrities. Yet, he’s a dog and she’s a victim. In this case it probably has something to do with her sweet and innocent demeanor and the fact the he once used the “n” word in an interview with Playboy (again not a sterling example). Maybe the disparity is penance for centuries of gender inequality. I can’t argue against either case, but the fact remains that men have a social disadvantage when it comes to courting a potential spouse. I’m here to raise awareness. Ladies, we’re not all bad. 

Oh and John Mayer, please make another “Continuum.”