David Knows What’s Up: Ladies, The Last List You’ll Ever Need
David Knows What’s Up:
Ladies, The Last List You’ll Ever Need
By David Marchese
The other day I found myself at a fancy dancy lounge on a ritzy pitzy block on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. I was there for a party. There was free drinks and stuff. Yeah, that’s right. Anyhoozit, at one point I was sipping a tap water on the rocks and talking with a woman about human nature.
“People are so complex sometimes,” she said.
“Not really,” I said.
“I think I’m complex,” she said.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. “And I think you’re wrong. What’s so complex about you?”
“I have my hang-ups.”
“Do you need more love?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” I said. “You also need to eat, sleep, and make kucky. Can I get you another Slippery Nipple?”
Some people can’t handle truth bombs. But that’s not the point. Here’s the point: You know how all these web sites for ladies have tons of lists about “Things You Need to Tell Your Man” or “9 Things Men Don’t Know About Women?” Those lists are dumb. First off, if they were right, they’d only need to be published one time ever. Instead of being rejiggered and re-run, they’d be carved onto stone tablets and recited from mountaintops. The Ten Commandments listicle was pretty much a single shot deal, know what I mean, Steve McQueen? Same goes for men’s magazines that are always saying they’ve got the secret to rock hard abs in ten days, two weeks, a month. If the first list worked, the rest would be redundant. Capeesh, Serena Maneesh? Also, to put this in list-like terms, people are not onions, all layered and shit. Some people like to act as if they are, though, so instead of being forced to face the fact that they’re lacking a basic element of human happiness, they can say that the reason they’re unhappy is because someone else can’t get sufficiently down with their fathomless depths. It’s not me, it’s you.
That’s what I tried to explain to the girl at the party.
“And anyway,” I said after she’d taken a slug from Slippery Nipple numero deux, “onions make you cry.”
Then I told a joke about how my shrink said my perspective was a sign of progress.
The girl smiled politely and walked away.