Leo Tolstoy once said that happy people are boring and also really obnoxious and unhappy people are way more interesting because there are like a million different ways to be unhappy. Or something like that.
So now we’re going to play a game called “Let’s Guess Why This Guy’s Pissed.”
My friends and I went out this weekend as a last hoorah before several of us scatter across the country. When we sent one of our number on a “dare” (totally her idea) to go talk to a couple of guys who caught our eyes, she introduced herself and then dragged me over to talk to them too. I say “dragged” like it was a difficult, but they were quite good-looking and my hair looked great, if I do say so myself, so I went willingly. That’s when I met Nick– who happens to be shooting a film in my hometown next year so you can bet that I’m going to use this meet-cute to my advantage and make my cinematic debut in a modern western action thriller.
And Matt– who stood there like a bump on a log.
Not an awkward botched attempt at conversing. Not an apologetic “I’m married/in a committed relationship/morally prohibited from flirting with you” monologue. Just an aura that clearly told two young, cute, interested women to run far, far away.
If we were easily offended, we’d be pacing up and down the dance floor trying to figure out where we went wrong. But we’re not. So now we get to play the game!
What kind of two-ton, PMSing, honey-deprived bee got in his britches?
The first guess was that he thought we were too young, which is a fault indeed, but not one which can be rectified or sufficiently punished by his suddenly turning to stone. And his friend sure didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
My second (more probable) guess was that he is gay and in love with his friend, thereby casting his blame onto us young females for simultaneously engaging him in undesired flirtation and distracting his friend from their game of pool, his only manner of expressing his true feelings and creating an intimate connection. (He could have explained that, and we would have been quite sympathetic, by the way. Lord knows we’ve had our share of unrequited love.)
I’ve been vetoed on that one. I can’t imagine why.
So I opened up the voting to my best friend Jeremy, and this is what he came up with:
- I (Jillian) know more about baseball than he (Matt) does.
- I denied him sex on the spot.
- He was actually rather ugly and he knew that I was mocking him.
- He has a dog named Jillian and it really bothered him to be talking to a girl with the same name as his dog.
- He just pooped his pants.
These are quite impressive answers, except that he was cold and standoffish to my friend before I even walked over to him, so there’s no way that he knew my name or my love of baseball. However, it would be really weird to date a girl with the same name as your dog, so if that was really the reason, I don’t even blame the guy. I truly hope it wasn’t the last answer…
I added that perhaps he was angry that we had broken his concentration at pool, because, you know, you can’t let that lapse. Or that he had a speech impediment and was just embarrassed to talk to us, and it came across as cold-hearted rudeness. Or that we somehow reminded him of his late grandmother, which quashes the whole notion of flirting.
Although they say that the simplest answer is usually the best answer, in this case I disagree. No straight guy (see above) goes to a large, popular bar and then blatantly ignores a conversation opportunity with two petite blonde women for something that can be summed up in one sentence. A much more complex, deep-seated, multi-layer problem was at hand.
Next, Jeremy suggested that this guy’s, ahem, “manhood” (Jer’s word) was lost in a freak paperclip accident. (Oh my God oww…just…oww…) There’s more to the story we made up, but I can’t repeat it because it hurts my soul. Let me tell you, this guy would have had some serious issues with self-worth, alcohol, and any of the nipple-baring V-neck shirts. Poor man.
And there are plenty more where that came from.
He was involved in a traumatic head injury while running Olympic level hurdles, which caused temporary memory loss and then extreme agitation and frustration over the blank periods of time. This had already happened several times that day, and as my friend complimented him on his very attractive black button down shirt, he became defensive because he forgot that he was wearing it and had to double check that it was still clean and didn’t have any deodorant stains on the collar. He also had to pee.
He’s had reconstructive face surgery which prevents any expression of emotion. He’s also had vocal chord reconstruction which makes speaking difficult. And his ear drums were probably split so he couldn’t hear us. Plus he’s got some nerve damage in his arms which makes it most comfortable to cross them in a defiant-looking manner. All of this came from the time he chased his cat (he loves cats) around his studio apartment and, unfortunately, had a bookshelf (he’s an avid reader) fall and sever significant nerves on the side of his neck, also permanently disfiguring the right side of his face and resulting in the death of the beloved cat, for whom he is still grieving.
He is terrified of being implicated in a conspiracy against a local governmental organization and therefore is under a gag order from his attorney until a Liam Neeson-type character can crack the cover-up and reveal the true nature of duty and honor in this great land. To ensure that he wouldn’t talk, in an act of supreme self-sacrifice, he burned his tongue on some bake-at-home pizza. He was wearing black so that he could blend in to the dark walls of the bar and now draw attention to himself, so his anger was actually self-directed for having drawn the attention of two such lovely young women. He couldn’t talk to us, both physically and out of fear of losing his life, and so he was internally contemplating how to narrate this part of the story in the tell-all book he will write once the whole fiasco has been solved.
Or he’s just a jerk.
Care to add your guesses to the game?