New Stuff
Since the onset of when modern man started walking erect, and was able to communicate through grunts and other sounds, he has been on a quest for new things. To set the record straight, I am referring to humanity as a whole when I say modern man. The selection of new things was far simpler back then, a good stick or dry cave was about it. After the wheel was invented, it was all downhill from there, pun intended.
However, as we evolved so did our stuff, and in all likely hood it just complicated matters far more than we needed or realized. Now it’s a constant quest for the better wheel or bigger cave. Remember how you felt when you got your first set of wheels or your first cave of your very own? Remember how you oohed and aaahed by yourself for hours because it was just perfect? Remember your first car? The one where you had to roll up the window with a hand operated the crank, gently guiding the glass upwards as you went along. You washed it and named it as though it was your first-born. In hindsight, if you had to drive it now you would be mortified and go to great lengths to not be seen anywhere near it, let alone getting out of it.
Or that first apartment, with the hand me down couch and ripped linoleum, yet you thought it was cool to get heat from a pot of water on the stove. Back when your Italian landlord wasn’t a cheap grease ball yet, but European and “saving on the oil.” We humans grow tired of things; just like we evolved from starting fire with two sticks, as we got older so did our tastes, refined as it’s now called. The question now at hand is when is it ok to out grow people. Is it ok at all, or are you just stuck with the same person who, like the car window with the hand crank, has to be guided straight on a constant basis.
Can you recall the first time you saw your significant other or the person you’re involved with forever? You probably did the oooh and ahhh noises, the same as for that car you once loved. You just couldn’t wait to be around them and everywhere you went was new and exciting. Flash-forward to now, they no longer have those legs or that ass to die for. Those bedroom eyes now have cracks and craters beside them Nasa could have tested out the Hubble telescope on. Those pearly white teeth are still pearly white, but now there in a glass next to the bed, or next to the sink in a nifty container. That flat stomach went the way of the dodo bird and now the opposing party would be happy just to see their own feet. Speaking of feet, an extra head seems to have sprouted from that same foot at some point during the relationship.
What once was a cute, “poof” of passing gas when you pulled the covers over both your heads and giggled now rivals the old Staten Island landfill on a hot July day. The fumes are so noxious you leave for the couch. To make matters far worse, they don’t look or notice you’re gone, nor care. Like the car after the water pump started leaking, the tires went bald, and something started oozing mysterious fluid on the driveway, you realize it’s time to get rid of them. Especially since the new mystery liquid is not the, “after” wet spot. So why isn’t it socially acceptable to trade a person in for a newer model? Something fast and sleek that doesn’t feel comfortable enough to scratch that very personal itch in front of you.
As I write this and as you read it, we all know it’s not ok. Unlike a material object let us not forget that person was with you in your many times of need. You remember the moments where you truly thought no one cared, and for the most part, except for them, no one did. You remember sharing together the many tears of joy you felt comfortable enough to share, and are all too happy you did. So it’s ok to be middle-aged and lust a little over that twenty-five year old. Just remember the sixty year old you saw in the Vette convertible, where you both laughed out loud in unison about how this is just plain old stupid.
