On the Dark Side

Can’t Tell if the Cop is a Costume or Not

Increasingly, we live in a world where shared, universal experiences are fewer and further between. Where once you could count on a few tens of millions of people watching a TV show with you—and often at precisely the same time—these days DVRs and streamed video means you can watch things literally years after they make their cultural splash, and even if you do watch them at the same time as just about everyone else, chances are a much smaller number of people are watching it with you.

Which leads to the most ridiculous of all ridiculous First World Problems: Trying to find a TV show everyone at a dinner or other gathering has watched completely in order to have something to discuss passionately. It’s a lot harder than it should be.

Cranky and Humorless

It also highlights one of my own problems: I hate many things that most people love.

As I ease on down into middle-aged crankiness, I am increasingly comfortable openly admitting to absolutely hating things I am expected, for some reason, to love. It’s like politics: Have you ever had a total stranger just suddenly start talking to you about their batshit political beliefs because they simply assume you’re one of them? Like, you’re chatting with a neighbor on the street and they suddenly unload a torrent of anti-Obama invective, and you’re standing there wondering what it is about your specific T-shirt and shorts combo that somehow projects I AM AN INSANE RACIST?

I feel that way when people discuss any of the following activities, which I am somehow weird for not enjoying:

1. Live music. Fuck concerts. I went to a lot of them when I was a kid because it was just what one did. I’ve always despised the experience, though. Crushed, shoved, expensive drinks, and music that sounds a millions times worse than the carefully recorded and engineered versions. These days I’d usually rather have my feet cut off than go to a concert.
2. Parades. Sweet baby jebus, parades. A slow, grinding assault on my time here on Earth, a parade is literally a way of measuring off how much of your life you’re wasting that day. Unless you’re in the parade, possibly carrying one of those batons that you pump up and down in the air while leading everyone. That’s a different story. And basically how I spend my Sundays, although so far no one has spontaneously followed me as I march around, which has surprised me.
3. Fireworks. Our country’s recent birthday reminded me just how boring and awful fireworks are. People who enjoy setting off fireworks are sociopaths, and people who enjoy watching fireworks are people who believe entertainment literally equals staring at bright shiny things for fucking hours.
4. Travel. The Duchess will burst into tears and punch you in the face if you ask her about my aversion to travel. The Duchess wants to go everywhere, even places where the local residents are getting into leaky boats and risking dangerous trips to escape from. I want to go nowhere. The idea that the future of mankind somehow hinges on broadening my understanding of other cultures is debatable, and travel is uncomfortable, exhausting, and just makes me really, really want to go home. Of course, since I am married to The Duchess, the travel continues, until I die, most likely while strapped into an economy seat heading god knows where.

It’s freeing to be old enough and mature enough to just admit I hate these things and not worry much whether it makes me weird, even if I suspect the world has a few more concerts, parades, and fireworks in store for me, because the world is cruel. In the mean time, if you see me marching up and down in full-on parade regalia, please do join me.