Now, I happen to be somewhat cynical about the whole romance thing. It's good because the cynicism keeps my very fragile heart shielded from all those nasty things like "heart break". I have found though, that nothing ever prepares me for the horrors of being single during this worst of seasons. For in Spring there is no refuge. With warmer weather people begin dressing brazenly, as if to say "look at me, am I not attractive?". One can not help but wonder "Can I not also find happiness? If I wear shorts will I not attract the fairer sex?" In my case no, I have chicken legs, but the thought process is correct.
With all Hipster bashing aside, I must say that Williamsburg has more than it's fair share of attractive 20-30 somethings running around. One need only walk down Bedford on a Saturday to see the bevy of women (or men for you ladies) who call Williamsburg their home, or at least hang out there on weekends. They come in all shapes, sizes, races and backgrounds. There is literally someone for everyone, again excluding me... I am cripplingly shy and no one will ever love me.
But what does one do in this situation? Pardon me for some frankness in the following thoughts. Though I come off as saintly like the Pope or Buddha, I am in fact... a man. And as such I have compulsions which are hard to quiet. What does one do when Spring is in the air and you find yourself single? I myself do not believe in the merit of "one night stands" as they leave me feeling scummy and guilty. I do not believe in casual "friends" either since you're not really friends and the ambiguity can be crushing. But I also do not have a "steady", as I believe the kids call it these days, so what does one do? I have found drinking helps, but I can't seem to drink enough, and it's expensive. Of course there are other outlets for this type of energy.
(Those warehouses finally got their comeuppance)
But starting fires is hardly a constructive outlet. I find nothing wrong with being single. In fact, in New York it seems to be the axiom for the twenty something. But what does one do when one hears the birds and bees singing their tune, when one senses the change of season, when one sees a multitude of women dressed like Harlots? If one is me, and realizes the futility of even leaving my apartment, one writes raps.
Yes, once again, I will be attempting to use these clement summer months to record a rap album. The first track is already nearing completion, which is a vast improvement over last summer's failed attempt.
So, since I am not spoken for and my ethics (stupid stupid ethics) will continue to keep me away from the vile forays the rest of my age group partakes in, I will do the only rational thing available to myself. I will use the opportunity of my metamorphosis into Professor Murder to stay away from the girls my brother warned me about and instead hole up in my office and "bust" "phat" "beats".
This is, unfortunetly, mostly not a joke... at least I'm not kidding about the rap album.
