Tuesday, February 22, 2005

An Ode to the Doofy Moments

I was having a phone conversation with Anna today, when we began to go over some of the highlights of our lives from the past couple of weeks. Being an avid reader of the Musings, we both discussed in detail some of the many situations I've faced over the past month, such as my Valentine's Day quagmire, awful snowstorms, and of course, the rules of the college "dating" scene. When trying to explain to Anna the various unwritten rules of "hooking up" in a college campus, she responded almost as if I had been speaking Greek to her the entire time. And rightfully so. All these years, with accurate precision, I had followed a set of personal guidelines established to always ensure that no matter what, I had the upper hand at the start of any single relationship. Known as "playing the Game" (as opposed to "spitting game" which is something completely different), savvy bachelors employ tactics that are based on the simple premise that one must always "save face." You can't, for example appear as if you're really into someone because by doing so, you risk pushing that other person away, or you never call someone the same day they give you their number, lest you want people to think you're desperate or something. For the uninitiated, playing the Game can be quite a difficult endeavor, especially if you really like someone, but can't let them know too early for fear of "losing face." And personally, I was taught at a very early age that if you wanted to succeed in hooking up, you couldn't show your hand too early.

And that's the way it is for a lot of people on this campus. Everyone plays this "Game" to give them the best chance at scoring their target. It's almost as if we're all collectively afraid to step out of this norm for fear of rejection and a sullied reputation. While it's easy to give credit to the Game for keeping order to an otherwise chaotic dating scene, at the same time, it lends a mechanical quality to the whole process, almost as if we're all reciting the same lines over and over again, just to different people. We all strive to aim for this concept of the "perfect hook-up," but, after I had finished explaining some of the reasons and concepts behind "playing the Game" to Anna, I realized that of all the times I've employed such tactics, the most memorable and successful of times came about when everything didn't go according to the set script. Actually, that's an understatement. The most memorable of times came about when everything went completely wrong, like that scene from the movie, "Hitch" when Will Smith knocked the shit out of Eva Mendes with his leg after trying to mount a Jet Ski. It's those "not so smooth" moments that stick out the most and often bring about the most joy when recalling them.

So, with this Musings entry, I hereby pay an ode to those Doofy Moments, when NOTHING goes according to plan. A misplaced hand, a not-so-subtle fart, the collapsing bed, or the accidental bump on the head. Those are the moments I'm talking about. It's time that someone pays them their due.

So here's one for those underground doofballs out there. Just don't O.D., though...you wouldn't be respecting the Game...


Blogger Freebird said...

Great post. For the most part though, "the game" continues to be played well after college with the only difference being its older players now. Kinda sad when you think about it, huh?

9:40 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Trust me when I tell you that yes, the Game does continue way after college. Actually, I don't think it ends . . . The most memorable moments are the ones you don't plan. I once got a guy just by getting out of a car. How? Picture me, short skirt, back seat of a 2 door car - need I say more?

12:31 PM  
Blogger Veronica said...

I agree with Nora. The game never ends. Sucks!

I think it's so juvenile when a guy waits three days to call you. What's up with that three-day rule?! Ridiculous. My ex and Edge both called the day after they got my number. Never once thought they were desperate.

However, I did date a guy who waited three days to call after he got my number. I wonder if he was counting down the days. :o)

6:08 PM  
Blogger Veronica said...

Oh... and you might be wondering how I knew it was three days, huh? Heh! Not that I was counting, but once he did call my friends and I figured he'd waited three days. We counted back the days and sure enough. Heh! That's how I knew.

6:10 PM  

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