I feel the need to rant. And yet, I have nothing to rant about. But maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll think of something.
Oh. No, I actually like that. Oh! No, that isn’t worth talking about.
Wait, I think I have one (although this may be less of a rant, and more of a general observance). I was watched This American Life on Showtime this weekend. First, what a great show. It’s always great when a show makes a move from one medium to another and makes full use of it’s new format, while still keeping its heart intact.
The episode I saw was about Stubbornness. There were three stories, and the first one involved a 14 year-old who had declared that he would never fall in love. Never. According to this young man, love makes you do stupid things, and impairs your judgment (no argument there), so he plans to never fall in love and avoid the perils associated with love. It should be noted that this also includes sex, and love among family members. His rationale is that if you are going to wipe out one kind of love, then all love should be done away with. It should also be noted that his voice hadn’t changed yet, and he was very into Dungeons & Dragons.
There were a few aspects of this story that fascinated me, but the most interesting was how calm and logical this boy’s reasoning was. I found his argument compelling, rational (mostly), and astute (again, mostly). He had his facts lined up, and his conclusion was sound. Had I never have experienced love, I probably would have sided with him.
I think I also took to this story because I could visualize the logical ending in my head. The aired piece ends with the boy asserting himself in his decision, despite a treacherous road of emotion and frustration that greeted him at every turn. He is asked by the narrator to say a few words to his 25 year-old self–the man that would be viewing this story 11 years later on DVD. He tells him that he hopes he has stayed true to himself, and that by doing so, it empowers his decision even further because it means that it was not made lightly or impulsively. And if he is not a virgin at 25, then he will see him in hell. (And if you’re a virgin at 25, you’re probably already there.)
Now, here’s what I think will happen next. The young man has a small group of friends who play D&D together, who I envision will be picked off one-by-one by members of the opposite sex. Our hero will be angered by this, but will find solace in a young girl (possibly one he’s met at Renaissance Fair or Comic-Con), probably named Jennifer, Katie or Emily. He’ll begin by telling her he doesn’t want to fall in love, but then find a strong bond with her, and begin confiding in her his dreams of owning his own comic book shop, and how he cries at certain movies when no one is around. He’ll bail on a night of D&D so that he and his new “friend” can watch a movie together in one of their respective basements. And without warning, and despite all of the voices in his head telling him not to, he will succumb to kissing this girl, awkwardly, but surprisingly enjoyable. And in that brief moment, he will toss his logic and reasoning by the wayside, and awaken to see just what it is that is so amazing about love that he could not grasp before.
Thus beginning a life of standing in the rain outside of bedroom windows, calling at all hours without the slightest notion of what to say, and listening to a lot of John Mayer in a non-ironic sort of way.
Good luck young man. Maybe virginity is worth it.