Half Hearted: Vestigial Limbs and Snow Globes

Compared to previous columns where I had to scramble for ideas of past loves and outdated TV references, the holiday tri-week overflowed with topics. I had sex a few times, I traveled home, and I even shopped Bergdorf's like the single Manhattanites I'm meant to be aping. But, since it's a new year, my mind is stuck on resolutions.

This year I was, well, resolute to not make any resolutions. For 2009, I made a resolution about someone else. Sure, I wrapped it in the ‘I will ____, so they will ____’ to try to give me some sense of agency, but that's about the equivalent of saying ‘I will flick the light switch eighteen times so the Detroit Lions will win the Pro Bowl’. Needless to say it blew up in my face and I chose to let the wind whistle through my ears post-countdown this year rather than make another asinine statement.

When I got home from my New Year vacation though, something piqued my resolver. I had a massive backlog of internet business, the largest of which was my blog feeds. As I waded through missed news, musings, and information, I found many pieces made me think 'why the hell do I follow these blogs?' Then, one typography-based design commentary screamed the answer: I read this stuff to impress a girl.

So, I want you single people to think long and hard about something. Of your current personality and interests, what amount was forged so you'd have something to grease the wheels of someone unattainable? For me, it's a lot.

From my CD collection to my wardrobe, everything has been touched by a former crush. Seduction frequently involves some Talented Mr. Ripley-style lying, so I suppose I'm not surprised at how much of my Kool-Aid I'm still drinking to this day. Hobby horses taken up to remove panties past are now still around as clumsy vestigial limbs of my personality.

Not all are bad of course. I learned to sew due to embarrassment with a high-school crush, I love Dusty Springfield for a clove-smoking coquette and I practically learned Urdu trying to impress a sultry lover of Middle Eastern politics. All these are useful parts of my personality I'm glad to have obtained, but for every useful part there's a pile of shit. I'm talking a Robbie Williams debut single-level of garbage here.

If I was a bigger man, I'd resolve to be truer to myself and wait for someone who loves me just for that. But, you all know me, and I think that's bullshit. White lies and fakery are an important part of impressing someone and, if my duplicity ain't broke, I won't fix it.

Maybe you and I, dear readers, should instead all take a look at our personality baggage and just separate the underwear from the snow globes. I personally plan to stop being up on subjects that bore me and just pray I never have to talk about them to bed someone again. Or, barring that...at least I'll make room for a new year’s worth of crap.

Next Time: I'll tell you who I had sex with! Nah, I'm just jerking your chain. It drives you nuts though, doesn't it?