I Wish EVERY Day Was Valentine's Day.

Every now and then I get a reminder as to why I'm not in a relationship. I don't think that 90% of the population is mature/capable of maintaining a healthy cohabitation/marriage.

This morning, I want to briefly explore a specific type of relationship: The other person.

Keep in mind that I'm not referencing any actual people, places or things (you know, nouns). I've been intrigued by this phenomenon for over 10 years. Here's a scenario:

A guy has a girlfriend for about six months. She works nights, so the guy goes out by himself a lot during the week. He meets a girl at a party and starts making out with her. This girl is hot and he laments that he never meets girls like this when he's single. When the making out starts reaching third base, he announces that he has a confession. He states that he has a girlfriend.

She responds: "Oh, that's a relief! I thought your were going to say your were married." Moral relativism aside, the guy's futile and feeble attempt to thwart the situation ends with a wicked fuck session.

He continues to see the "Other." Other knows that he's got a girlfriend, but it doesn't bother her. He maintains two relationships.

Here's the heart of the issue: The dual relationship functions (while the Girlfriend is oblivious, the Other is content with the arrangment).

One night, out with the Other, the Guy hugs a platonic friend for too long. A kiss on the cheek... something sets Other off. Other asks to be taken home immediately.

The drive home leaves Guy perplexed. "Why are you jealous of her? She's just a friend." Other is completely ending the relationship over a perceived overly affectionate friend. Guy plays the only card he's got: "I have a girlfriend! Why would my hugging a friend cause you to freak out when you know I live with another girl?" His argument fell on deaf ears and totally awesome tits and he never talked to her again.

So I pose this situation as a sort of character study and maybe it's a relationship that hasn't been discussed: The Other. The Other is the person with whom someone cheats on their girlfriend or spouse. Even in this situation, exclusivity is demanded (like most mainstream relationships). The Other can't necessarily have this, so peace is maintained with an exception. The cheater can maintain his or her public relationship, can maintain the Other relationship, but the Other will get pissed off if the cheater shows affection to someone other than the spouse/girlfriend or the Other. Does it make sense? No. But neither does love.

Here's a link to the "Love Column," the best thing I ever wrote:

http://www.igooch.net/columns/lovecolumn.htm

Here's a link to my first 9/11/01 post:

http://goochthecolumn.blogspot.com/2001/09/early-this-morning-about-845am-edt-two.html#links

goochout

Facebook is Fucking Stupid.

A venue with which you can broadcast your thoughts is a powerful thing. Historically, the means of broadcasting thoughts and/or ideas have been controlled by the Government and (lack of) technology.

HAM radios require a license, You have to have a television or radio station to broadcast (and the FCC to regulate the content). Billboards are subject to local regulations for placement and content.

Enter the internet. Assholes, such as myself, have the ability to write and say whatever they want. The ability to broadcast video/audio/text is just a trip to Fry's away. In the beginning of the WWW, it still took some doing to get a website up.

When I started this site ten years ago, I had to learn what FTP was (I hated computers at the time, so this was a really painful exercise), I had to learn hyperlinks and basic HTML, I had to buy a domain name ($72 a year at the time, versus $5 or so today). This barrier made it so that people really needed to want to get their message out (in my case, I just wanted to publish my awesome articles that got bounced by the college newspaper).

Now there's Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Blogger (which I've resorted to for this site), and a myriad of other services dedicated to making it easier to get your message out. You don't have to sit and think of something important to say while sitting at your desk. You can update Facebook and Twitter (mercifully limited to 142 characters) from your phone. You've got 300 friends who are almost forced to read the self adoring minutia of your day when they log on.

I think a lot of normal people are passing themselves off as fucking stupid, fucking high, or fucking both. Perhaps I'm jaded at the whole relationship thing, but is there anything more nauseating than someone who has to crow bar something about their significant other into a Facebook update? It's almost viral in that people have started to exclaim that they "love life" and the fishing for sympathy when something bad happens.

The ability to self publish is one that should be taken seriously. One should think about everything they say and think "is this important for everyone to hear and /or will they give a shit?"

Thank you for your time. Now get me a fucking drink.

gooch:out

True Gooch Stories.

About 12 years ago I was dating a girl. She lived in a house with her Father, near my Father's house where I lived. We were at her place and we were making out on the couch.

I became self conscious about my breath, so I excused myself to use the restroom. My plan was to find some toothpaste and swish it around to make my mouth a more refreshing environment in which to tongue joust.

I go into the bathroom and hit the light switch. The light was apparently burned out. I couldn't see a thing, but it wasn't that big of a bathroom. I reached up to the medicine cabinet and with what little light I had, I found what felt like a tube of toothpaste. I took off the cap and squeezed some paste onto my finger. I then rubbed the compound onto my tongue and roof of my mouth.

It tasted awful, but these were hippie type people. I figured that it was some of that "Tom's of Maine" shit. Then I noticed that the stuff wasn't spitting out and was rather sticking to the surfaces of my mouth. I couldn't spit it out and had resorted to using my fingers to scrape the crap off of the roof of my mouth and tongue.

Now I'm worried that I'm taking too long in the bathroom and the girl is getting turned off by the thought of me taking a major shit in her bathroom. I'm having a fucking crisis, however, in that I've coated my mouth with denture cement and not the minty freshness of Crest or Colgate.

Once the panic subsided, I figured that the girl would have a sense of humor about the situation and sounding like, well, someone whose mouth was coated with a rapidly hardening adhesive, I explained what happened during my ten minute ordeal in the restroom. It was all good, we got a chuckle out of the story, but it took a long time for that shit to come out.

She's Just Not That in to Gooch

In a douchey endeavor and at the suggestion of a good friend, I joined Match.com. I received my first rejection notice. Apparently, there's a "Not Interested" button people can click. I've already emailed Match, asking that they provide (for an extra charge, of course) a "Fuck you, you fucking lesbian" button.

Just kidding, I'm not as jaded or angry as some might think. Sure, those of you lucky enough to regularly encounter me in real life might think I'm a bitter prick, but I'm just going through an adjustment period.

Yeah, that's it. Meanwhile, don't forget to check the twitter posts to the right of this blog. I've been railing on the Kennedy theme for a bit. Perhaps taking the joke a little too far for a little too long. Fuck it, it's funny to me.

Coasting through a good weekend. I stayed around the house, hung out with friends. I napped a lot. I ate too much and paid the overindulgence pennance by working out.

I started a script for a new podcast; should be good.

Out.

District Gooch.

Didn't get the beating I think I deserved last night. I did drink and go to multiple clubs on the east si-eed. I woke up this morning and went on a Taco Bell bender, for which I now feel guilty (in a health/diet sense).

Found the obit for one of my former customers. He owned the gym(s) I used to frequent. I always liked visiting with and working for him.

Obituary for Myron Nelson.

I've taken another caffeine pill which forces me to work out. If I don't, my heart will explode and I will fucking die. Some people work out to stay healthy... I just want to avoid a seizure and death.

It's the way of my people.

I'm out.

G.