“I AM”. Arguably, the two most commanding words belonging to the English language. Don’t believe me? Say them now. Yes, right now. Doesn’t matter where you are… in line at the bank… naked in bed… at work (although I suggest if this is the case, you do it under your breath). I triple dog dare you. Then tell me that you don’t instantly feel mighty… fierce… empowered. I bet you do. I know I sound over confident here but really could 2.8 billion Christians be wrong? The Bible says that Jesus wore a Toga and some bitchin birkenstock sandals and stood on a hill and announced, “I AM” to let people know that he was God. (also apparently the Son of God and the Holy Spirit but I don’t have time to delve into my confusion surrounding the Holy Trinity and the reason for its threefold existence). I digress… of course… The point is that religious types are convinced that “I AM” connects us directly to God. And even if you don’t believe in the Baby Jesus, that phrase is kind of incredible. A declaration of self and truth.
You see… the thing that makes human beings different from say…. polar bears… or unicorns… or single celled organs like the valonia ventricosa… (a gelatinous lump of goo which lives at the bottom of the ocean with mermaids and is one of the largest single cell organisms in the world and is sometimes called a “sailor’s eyeball”) is our ability to say and define the word “I”. I love puppies… I love Land Rovers… I have green eyes… I like to drink Sailor Jerry and Sommersby out of adult size sippy cups… I like men who pay for dinner and kiss the top of my head when they hug me… Saying “I” is rousing! And quite franki…. it is almost impossible to stop once you have started.
With all of the amazingness surrounding the word “I”… it is completely baffling… disgusting… and somewhat amusing to me (quite like Rob Ford or George Clooney’s recent nuptials) that people who are happy, intelligent, knowledgeable and outwardly sane, drop the word “I” and replace it with “WE” the moment they get themselves into any sort of a relationship. What the fuck?
Don’t act like you don’t have a clue what I am talking about here. No? Still want to play coy? Plead ignorance? Then perhaps a vivid and enlightening description is required here to get you on the same page as this particular musing…
Lights come up. I am stage left otherwise known as WORK… behind the wood pouring pint after pint of delicious beer but completely distracted from said task because I am worried that the headache gnawing at my brain is not actually a hangover, but is in fact a brain hemorrhage. In walks a regular from stage right… otherwise known as THE DOOR… (for stage direction and literary purposes I will call her Sam). I like Sam. She is a cool chickadee. Stylish… humorous… friendly and a lover of beer, her and I are almost soul mates. “Hello Sammy” (feigning the fake bartender enthusiasm required for great tips, whilst trying to ignore the nibbling going on in my brain). “How are you?” (Sammy smiles her big cherub smile in gratitude for my obvious taxed interest)“Hey! Things are great! WE had a lovely weekend! WE went to a wedding in Toronto and then spent the day in the Distillery District because WE love the artisans and shops, it is so very European. Sidebar: Sam is not Taylor Swift… the Queen or someone else who requires a large travelling entourage… so I know that Sam is really talking about her and her manfriend when she says “WE”. Between the headache and Sam #WeingAllOverThePlace, I now have a hard time keeping up my feigned bartender enthusiasm. I honestly want to launch the pint of Boddington’s I am pouring for Sam at her smug face… or at the wall (where it won’t hurt as much but will definitely convey the level of my disgust). I feel sorry for Sam. She has weakened herself as a person. She is no longer worthy of my respect. LIGHTS DIM.
I am sorry. Actually… fuck that I am NOT sorry… I will never or could never respect someone who refers to themselves and their significant other as “WE”. It is total bullshit and it is pathetic. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I am a selfish individual. I don’t share food. I don’t share beds. I don’t share space with another person unless I am forced too…. Why in the FUCK would I share a pronoun? Particularly with a person I am having sex with… it is unhygienic.
I am going to provide you with some sound psychobabble crap at this juncture in time, which will quite possibly contradict everything humans have been socialized to do, and I don’t really care if you don’t want said advice or not.
“You do not become a unit with no independent experience once you starting sleeping… dating… courting… romancing… marrying someone. You retain separate bodies… minds… and desires.
First off, separate identities give you something to have continued conversation about for years to come. Nothing worse then becoming that eerie movie montage from Citizen Kane where you start out all lovey dovey and end up at opposite ends of your gynormous dining room table, a metaphor for the space that has grown between the two of you because you have NOTHING to talk about… because nothing changes… because everything for both of you is the same… because you spent so much time #WeingAllOverThePlace (like the three little pigs… we… we…we all the way home).
#WEING also causes heartbreak and disillusionment as you begin to operate under the belief that you have the same desires and wants. NO YOU DO NOT. You have very separate desires and completely different wants. For instance, he does not want to climb the hawt (way to young) MBA bound Red Bull rep like a monkey climbs a tree and teach him dirty things that will blow his young mind and tarnish him for life (sigh). Anymore then you want to stick your winky into the super sexy hot Oktoberfest wench with the great legs and the nice beer jugs. #WEING is a destroyer of fantasies. Fantasies that you are entitled too as an individual and even if you are #coupled up. They wet our sexual appetites and create intimacy between two people when/if you choose to share them. You don’t share a brain… and intimacy is key… so stop #WEING!!
And finally, the #WEING makes other people stop looking at you as individuals. Wonder why the guys don’t ask you to hang anymore? No poker nights, Leaf games or pickup hockey? Or why the girls keep having “a night out” without you? It is because no one wants to upset your #coupled up, #WEING status. They are respecting the fact that YOU appear to be inseparable. You are one. The #WEING made it so! The boys don’t want your woman around when they are doing their guy things and it is no different for the girls. This doesn’t mean they are out running the town with whores and strippers (well it could mean that) but it is more that they need a sense of separation… that they can still do things on their own… they have their own identities… You are losing out on days and nights of merriment because you are #WeingAllOverThePlace. TRUST is what makes a couple strong…. Not #WEING… And a couple that isn’t able to do individual activities because of fear of straying… well what are you doing anyways?
So the newest addition to the growing list of #pumarules is #StopWeingAllOverThePlace. #Weing is a rude, disturbing, unnecessary habit. Learn to retain your independence. It makes sentences and conversations much shorter and less awkward and despite your #coupled up status, adding the word “I” into conversation will make you appear if nothing else… a little bit interesting. And no need to worry, if you do manage to #StopWeingAllOverThePlace… social convention and Facebook updates are bound to advise people of your relationship status regardless. “I” for one love my girls night out and using “I” as often as “I” can… so in my case… maybe it is better just to remain a #single #puma.
Thank you to the brilliance of Madame Grotesque who perfectly captures my homicidal tendencies that surround #Weing. All artwork is property of Madame Grotesque.