The New Belt Notches

So a recent development (or set of them) has got me thinking about how life changes in interesting ways as you round 30 and head for home (the grave).  First off, a digression into memory lane:  As a guy, I used to have a pretty cliched little black address book in which i kept….contact info.  I mean that shit was actually necessary pre-pda and pre-internet and most people had some form of centralized repository of miscellaneous and important contact info.  So stop judging, assholes.

And in this book, I of course rated girls and kept track of how many i kissed and what-not… this was high school, ok?  Which led to the quintessential “Reality Bites”-immortalized practice of counting and listing at various moments (ok, immediately after the sex) the number of girls i had had sex with.  Even the ladies do this, so once more, stop judging, dicks.

Anyway, remember that? Like notches on the belt, or hash marks on the bedpost, or whatever.

So what’s the new version?  The one that takes over from the ego-building celebration of conquest (or circumspect cherishing of past moments of intimacy, depending on the notcher) of our early 20s?  Well, it’s a masochistic cataloguing of missed opportunities, of course!  A painful reminder of failures and dropped balls; a reminder that the clock is ticking and you have somehow been left behind on the race to find someone.  I’m talking about people on that prior list who are now married, or getting married soon.

Marriage was pathetic when it was immediately after high school, but now that we’re talking about real adults (with whom we once had serious relationships) settling down with the soul mate of their choosing it huuuuurts!  It doesn’t hurt in a conventional way, though… It’s like a little proof that there must be something wrong with you.  This is getting long-winded so I won’t delve into that.  But here’s my current number.  Of the girls with whom I have been in meaningful relationships since college, 7 that I know of are either happily married, or getting married this month.  THIS MONTH!  There’re THREE of those! Sigh.  Not that I want to get married, but yeah, now I want to get married.

One Stalk too Far

So it finally happened.  I did a little too much stalkering on the old facebook and got what I deserved: My ex is “in a relationship”… Dun dun duuuunnnn… And of course I’m all reeling in shock and awfulness and a little stunned.  Because as a matter of fact I have been gazing fondly in retrospect toward the good times we had in the past.  I mean she was the rare type of girlfriend who adores and mildly idolizes her man.  Which at the time was offset by her tendency to get ragingly upset at every expression of independence i ever made.  It ended for a reason. I ended it for that reason.  I was right i was right i was right.  I’m trying to affirm, over here, gimme a break.

I think i have even figured out that she’s in that relationship with a dude in a minor band, one with a medium small following.  I hate it!  Why is it taking me so long to find a terrific girl? Hmmm?  And why am I so obsessed with settling down? Prob has a lot to do with feeling like I’m getting old AND feeling isolated down here in exile.

Speaking of Exile-land, I went with some chums to a new comic book store up in…Prospect Heights? Picked up some comics (my ex turned me on to comics, of COURSE).  And lo and behold, somehow it comes up that the owners (who are lovely people, very awesome in fact) are new residents in Exile City with me!  Awwwwwwwesome.  Some comrades in isolationville.

Starting to get a little better living down here.  Love life has screeched to a nonexistent halt, but I’m also slowly building up some better social relationships with some healthier people.  They also live closer than hipstertropolis.

Leave a comment if you have any comic suggestions or want to let me know you’re reading this crap.

Doctors Get Crazy Too

Alriiiiiiiight.  So.  Which chapter of crap in the life of a lonely hermit grown-up hipster is this going to be, you ask yourself?  How about I vomit out what I’m dealing with in the medical realm?  Ok, so I went to this specialist, a gastroenterologist, to get a scope jammed down my throat to prove i really have chronic heartburn.  And he did and I do.  But it was a weird experience and I was left sort of questioning the honesty and professionalism of this a-hole.

So I asked around.  I have 2 friends who have Crohns disease, which is a pretty baffling and shitty digestive system disorder.  For those keeping score at home, yes I slept with these girls.  We dated.  I dated one for quite some time and we had some really good times.  We aren’t very close anymore.  I digress.

I got their doctors’ names, and I figure since they have been to millions of these guys and gals and settled on their current doctors, they have GOT to be good.  Why didn’t I do that in the first place? Because my general practice guy (not so hot himself) referred me to this guy.

So anyway, my current guy is shady and has already committed insurance fraud and withheld information from me (if the info even exists… i haven’t seen much proof he did the tests he said he did other than the camera in the gullet).  So… when my prescription plan denies my refills, I’m not too hopeful that the situation will get resolved.  It doesn’t.  Long story short, the rep from the prescription plan told me she had never dealt with as crazy and rude a doctor and that I should switch, and I have to pay over the counter prices until I do.

Check and check.  So I have an appointment with a doctor who has been thoroughly checked out by a friend tomorrow.  I can’t wait to see if it makes a huge difference in my experience.  I also can’t wait for act 3 of the drama with my old stomach guy: in which I try to obtain my records and have to threaten to turn his ass in to the state board for insurance fraud.