Although I believe this song isn’t about camping, because I have nothing to really say about this song or band, I have decided to spend the post writing about my camping experiences. Herein lies the problem. I don’t really have many camping experiences, and the few that I do are extremely boring. That doesn’t mean I find camping boring. As much as I enjoy the internet and all the fun that goes with it, like facebooking, I’m not at all against getting away from ‘it all’ and enjoying some peace and quiet in front of the camp fire.
The camp fire is not only one of the greatest places to be in this world, but also what I would have named my crotch if the hair down there was red (that would not have been one of the greatest places in the world). I spend my entire day surrounded by sound, and lots of it. From the moment I wake up I turn back on the TV, which was on when I fell asleep – a tremendous waste of energy, but I can’t get to sleep without something to vaguely focus on – but I try to turn off when I wake up in the middle of the night, and will usually watch an episode of something before I start up my computer and then spend my whole day listening to podcasts and music. Even when I read or take a shit in the bathroom I’m listening to music. I don’t like silence at all, with the exception of the camp fire.
Nature is peaceful, so thank God for computers so at least the rate of manufacturing paper and tearing down trees is slowed down. Campsites aren’t necessarily peaceful, but once night comes and you can’t see that you’re surrounded by a bunch of other camp sites it really starts to feel like you’re alone in a forest, with a crackling fire burning at your shins as you gaze up at the bright stars miles (more like billions of miles) above the tips of the trees and bushes that surround you, as a homeless man hides behind them, waiting to slit your throat and steal the 12 dollars in your pocket, and even worse, finish your half eaten smore. It’s peaceful even just thinking about it.
I don’t like silence because it allows me to think and I don’t like thinking because I only think about horrible things, like how that girl who I like and says she likes me but we can’t be together right now has a cuddle buddy, and even though she says she rarely sees him and doesn’t text or talk with him because she doesn’t want him to think she likes him it drives me crazy. What’s weirder, having a cuddy buddy you have no feeling for or having a fuck buddy you have no feeling for? In this day and age it’s the cuddle buddy, right? But even though it’s weirder, at least in my mind, if she had a fuck buddy that would be more unbearable. I’d have to metaphorically kill myself just to get some sleep at night. I’m supposed to be writing about the peacefulness of being in the woods with a campfire and instead I’ve tangented (tangented?) yes, tangented to this unsettling notion of a girl I like cuddling with someone she has no feelings for.
Here’s my problem (shouldn’t that be plural?) I’m only discussing the problem with this specific situation, not all my problems. I can grasp the idea of having no feelings towards someone but still getting something from them. What I can’t handle is liking someone and not being able to give them the thing they like so much, like sex or cuddling, especially when someone else is giving them that satisfaction. What it is (here comes another is) is horrible, horrible jealousy. I need help with jealousy. I’m not insane to the point where I wouldn’t let my girlfriend be friends with guys. But if it’s not too much I’d kindly insist, you know if it’s not too much, for her to not sleep with those guys – it reminds me of a Michael Scott, from The Office, quote when he finds out he got cheated on, “You cheated on me? When I specifically asked you not to?”
No, I know it’s normal to not want your significant other to sleep with another person, but I do, or rather would, get jealous if other people made her laugh, and that’s insane, right? As a person who desperately wants to be funny (and disastrously fails) that’s sort of the thing I want to be mine. I know I won’t be able to give her the best sex of her life – my inadequate penis and, I don’t know who she’ll be but I assume this will hold true, her high number of sexual partners prohibit that from happening – and I won’t be able to be the sweet guy – my lack of funds inhibit my ability to provide her with the things girls find sweet, you know, lots and lots of expensive gifts – but God damn I’m going to make her laugh.
That was all a huge, huge lie. Although I exude an unbelievable amount of self doubt I firmly believe that even though I can’t be Ryan Seacrest and buy her a car and fill it up with roses I will still use my words to tell her the sweetest things ever imaginable, all of which will be truths, and then give her the best sex of her life, even if she spent 12 years as a porn star. What’s sad is I really do believe that, which I think is part of the problem. I set unrealistic goals – even though they’re totally going to happen – and the jealousy comes from not being able to fulfill them – even though I totally will.