In making myself happy, I now make myself sad...
There was an innocuous exchange that took place between a coworker and myself via Facebook message. It went a little something like this...
I enjoyed watching the small clip. It was cute and amusing. It got me looking forward to the movie, which is based on a comic book. ("Big Hero 6" is Disney Animation's first attempt at exploiting a Marvel property.) I even considered finding a trade of the comic during the summer so I could know what to expect from the film.
Then I realized that a man of my age isn't supposed to be entertained by animated robot movies.
I felt ashamed.
I've become more mindful of this sort of thing in recent weeks. I keep thinking of Betsy, and what she said to me a year ago. "If you took me to that thing you did the other day," she said, referencing a performance by The Returners (a video game cover band), "I would've probably hated it. And if I took you to do something that I like to do, you probably would hate that." She went on to say that she had strong feelings for me, but for us to become truly bonded as a couple, it would take more time doing the things that we both like to do together, and her increasingly hectic work schedule didn't allow that. "I just don't want to waste your time," she kept saying.
I've kept mulling over that conversation as the months passed by, and especially so as I reach the one-year marker. She would much rather be at a sports bar watching the Eagles than playing Fluxx or Kill Doctor Lucky around the dinner table. She would rather go to a night club with a bunch of gay friends than take pictures of costumed nerds walking around at a con.
Then it hit me: The things I like doing are not the sort of things that normal people like doing. Regular people don't post things like this to their Facebook wall:
Immediately after making the post, I set down my smartphone and stared at the book in front of me at the table. What kind of weirdo would even consider buying a book like this, much less derive amusement from reading it? Certainly, only a madman would admit to such a thing publicly on Facebook. My smile faded and I heaved a heavy sigh. "This isn't what normal people do for fun," I mumbled sadly to myself.
Most normal people probably don't talk to themselves, either.
I made myself sad for enjoying something I enjoy.
And today I did this:
I ate my pizza, read my comics, and then, as I packed up to leave, I stared at Mike Mignola's cover art and remembered Betsy.
THIS is why I'm still single, I thought to myself.
I'm giving serious thought to just throwing it all away and rebuilding my public face from the ground up. Trade in my geeky T-shirts for... what do regular people wear...? Aeropostale, or whatever. Find some sort of cheat-sheet to say sports things. Stop referencing the Matthew Effect and the Prisoner's Dilemma with my coworkers. (At the risk of sounding arrogant, it would be lost on them anyway.) Just be Mohammed Chen, and everything will be alright.
This is actually stressing me out. I thought I might see "Chef" today at the Bijou, but now I'm second-guessing myself. Is it the sort of movie that regular guys would watch, or am I going to do something weird again? It's bad enough I went to see "Grand Budapest Hotel" and "Philomena."
This is going to be what I do from now until forever, isn't it? I'll constantly be questioning, "Is this a normal people thing, or am I being a freak?" It's like I'm in middle school again...