THE CALL OF THE FREAK

“Oh, inside angel, always upset
Keeps on forgettin' that we ever met
Can I bring you out in the light
My curiosity's got me tonight

She's a lot like you
The dangerous type
Oh, she's a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight”

~ The Cars, “Dangerous Type”

In the past few months I’ve rejoined the dating world…and, truth be told, it hasn’t been fun. Nowhere near as fun as you imagine in those anger fueled fantasies during times of wedded strife. So, here’s a savvy tip from your ol’ Uncle Jer: try really, really hard to “love the one you’re with” as the old Stephen Stills song advises and stay the hell out of the sad, middle aged dating scene.

I honestly don’t remember women being so cautious and guarded during my last dating go ‘round almost 15 years ago. I know things have changed in 15 years, but they haven’t changed that much, have they?

Yup. This about sums it up.

It really and truly seemed to me that a good many ladies were just going through the motions – just dating because they had nothing better to do and think they should be dating. There was just too much passionless disinterest staring across at me from a good many café tables not to start wondering what the in the holy hell was going on here.

I’m entirely open to the fact that this general, feminine malaise could have been my fault. After all, it had been 15 years since my last date. My looks have changed, sure, but I wouldn’t consider myself an ugly old man at 44 by any means. Maybe I was doing something wrong? Maybe I was sending out some desperate asshole vibe or something? I’m not egotistical enough to think that I’m some sort of perfectly mannered Adonis, but I have no issues expressing myself and many people do find me witty and engaging, which can win the day in many dating/social situations.

So, I was at a loss and about to put things on pause for a while when about a month ago I met someone. Someone I could certainly see rebuilding my life with. There’s just one problem…

…she has no freak in her. Just trust me on this, she doesn’t. No, I’m not going into details because I’m not that kind of guy.

You just knew a picture of this super-freaky mofo was going to show up here, didn't you?

Most rational people would say that’s a damn good thing. But, no, not me. Older doesn’t necessarily equal wiser it seems. Jer likes the freak…and the freak likes Jer.

But the freak is dangerous. The freak will swallow your soul and gleefully ask for seconds while you wretchedly sob in the corner, looking for the shredded pieces of your life to cobble back together.

I know this danger full well because I’ve danced with the freak several times in my life…and you pay the fucking price when you boogie with the freak. My three longest relationships have all been with women who definitely had something of this freak in them. None of those relationships ended well. Gee, what a shock, right?

These unsettling thoughts have been rattling around my brain since this new woman left my bed late Sunday morning. I knew when I awoke that something was missing…it was my old friend the freak, of course. I know this unfulfilled feeling all too well because I have experienced it previously. It’s been some time, but I remember it well. In the mid to late 90’s I cast aside two fantastic girls (who both really seemed to dig me) because, well, try as though I may I just wasn’t that into them.

They lacked the freak and the freak in me knew it. End of story. Goodnight, ladies…don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

The pained expression on the girl's face here just says, "Yep, I'm totally doing this..."

There must be some sort of harmonic resonance between freaks, like humpback whales silently singing to one another, because when two like-minded freaks get together they can be scarily inseparable, and that co-dependence is typically the downfall of them both. They’ll destroy each other in the process of singing the freaky ballad that only their counterpart hears.

As I stated previously, I am 44-years-old. I want, no, I NEED a nice, normal relationship with a nice, normal woman. It seems I could have that here if I could get out of my own goddamn way and close off my ears to the siren’s song…

…but the call of the freak is hard to deny. I can hear it now, faintly...off in distance...and it's not coming from where I need it to be.

God help me it isn't.