Trying to convince someone of unwanted dentistry

 

Trying to convince someone of something they are resistant to is like trying to melt ice by talking to it. Maybe someday, with enough hot air, it will happen. I feel like I spent the last two days at the dentist. Only, I was the dentist and the person I was trying to pull teeth from was someone with my own level of stubborn resistance to having their teeth pulled.

"The tooth is obviously bad," I say. "It's causing you pain," I say. 

"There's no future with that tooth. So, how about it? Let's just get that tooth out, eh? It'll be over before you know it, then you can get on with your other options. Gold tooth? Implant? That pirate look is cool, sure. Or you'll always have a place for your straw," I'm talking to myself at this point, trying to convince myself of taking some kind of actual dental action.

"Noooo, but I love it. It's my Toothy Tooth. We had some good moments together, Toothy and I. You don't know him like I do. There'll never be another tooth like Toothy. What if, you know, down the road, Toothy heals up?"

No point in arguing. Toothy might make another fine tooth someday. In a gazillion years, when the next big bang rescrambles all the molecules in the universe and these Toothy molecules fuse together, reincarnated into a new mouth. But not in this lifetime. 

No matter, in the mean time, Toothy will extract himself. Just fall right out. Oh, well, we're all falling apart anyway. The point is, I'm a lousy dentist and a lousy advice giver. Don't listen to someone who doesn't even take their own advice.

--the next day, after a little reflection--

So how come I'm talking in dental analogies instead of just telling my story straight up? Good question. I guess because I am too lazy to go into the background of what is going on in my personal life (or lack thereof). I'll say this much: I've made a new friend. 

We've been doing a fair amount of chatting on Facebook. It mostly revolves around her current love life (or lack thereof). I find myself in the awkward position of confidante and Dear Abby advice giver. Actually, I'm just digging having a person to talk to, a beautiful female at that, possessing a beautiful mind as well.

So, although she's 21 years my junior, or possibly because of that fact, I find myself extremely interested in the fascinating details of her life and the inner working of her mind that she is sharing with me. If only for pure science, it is still a completely engrossing business. 

In all my years, I've never had a female--woman, girl or grandmother--that was so quick to open up and so easy to talk to. Or should I say, listen to, it's been mostly about her and her not so much of a hope to be boyfriend. No matter, because hearing about someone living their life puts my focus on something other than my own sorry state of affairs.

Unfortunately, I found that I'm not so good at dispensing impartial advice. I get caught up in the drama, take sides and fail to view things dispassionately. So, my sagely advice becomes skewed by my own inconsistencies and emotional investment. Good thing I'm not a therapist, I'd be fired by now. You can't fall in love with your patients. 

I tend to fall in love with any girl who will give me the time of day. Maybe that's why more of them don't talk to me. They see this a mile away. Whoa, emotionally needy person here. Potential glommer. Steer clear. I won't say they are wrong in every case, though I'd like to think I'm capable of having a female friend who I'm not secretly (or overtly) in love with.

Or not. Fuck it, right? I can love as many people as I want in whatever capacity I'm able to and that's my business. Whether someone ever reciprocates is another matter. I've all but declared myself dead and buried to the idea of ever having a real relationship. So, this business with my new friend is just a matter of seeing what circuits still operate in my depleted, damaged state. 

For my loyal readership, hearken back to the springtime fiasco with Dream Girl. I've made a fool of myself before and am still alive to tell about it. I'm not entertaining hope now, just as I didn't in the case of Dream Girl. I'm just allowing feelings to wash through me, enjoying a moment or two of self-delusion in my distraction from my boring, lonely existence.

(Hi, _______, if you're reading this. Hope I didn't offend you too much with my messed up interpretation of the dentistry metaphor.)

I really gotta get all my stories together in one place, because I said a whole bunch of stuff on Facebook which needs to be incorporated in order for this dumb blog or journal, whatever it is, to paint a true picture. Right now my life is compartmentalized, simply because I don't have the energy to reiterate things that I've said to people in emails or on Facebook. 

But then, there's also the "who really gives a fuck about you and your stupid story" aspect that I'm dealing with. Why bother to document a life as monotonous and lonely as this? I suppose that's why I'm finding myself so engaged in the whole conversation I've been having with _______. It is a different dynamic than I am used to and makes me feel somewhat alive again.

But due to my failure as an advice giver, perhaps I've overstayed my welcome and that connection, however brief, will wink out, too. Me, the eternal pessimist, predicting the future again.