Gel-a-see?

I must admit that I am jealous of people whom have rather definitive personalities. People with not just strong likes, but more importantly, with strong dislikes. I think they are much more attractive in the sense that they take much more work and effort to please. Human nature has a way of making us appreciate the things we work hard for, much more so than those things that come to us easily. I suppose I am, or rather could be, viewed as pretty bland fellow for enjoying more or less everything. I like all types of music, I enjoy all types of movies and I definitely have a much broader cultural taste that than most. My interests range from athletics, to academics, to pop culture and all the way to the sciences. I think I have come to resent this only, undefining, defining quality of mine.

What’s there to blame? This is of course entirely due to my upbringing. In case you were not aware, I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life living between five countries and nine different schools. No, my parents were not seperated nor was my father in the military. I’m just a product of a family who decided to move, frequently. In any regard, I’ve always been the ‘new kid’ but [un]fortunately, at an early stage, I had mastered this play. You see, I had figured out that being the new kid was not at all a disadvantage, in fact, I had discovered that it had given me the power and opportunity to reinvent myself each time I attended a new school. It gave me a chance to redo past mistakes, and live vicariously, through an un-jaded past. Life is not supposed to forget. We are products of our past, no matter how imperfect or wrong they may be, it’s our past decisions that make us who we are today. I was too young to understand.

I only now realize the profound damage I have caused myself. I’d definitely consider myself a “jack of all trades, master of none”-type of guy. This is handy if your automobile, website and glasses break. Or, say, if you need help with your math and geography homework. If your life is spread all over like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then you and I have something in common. Otherwise, I’m sure I can accommodate your type. This hardly gives me an advantage.

But enough about me, this entry is about jealousy… or maybe the lack thereof. Danny and Britni have been talking again after a couple of years of downtime. I’m not sure how I feel about this, since Danny, I think it would appropriate to say, was Britni’s first love. I certainly feel different than when Andy, her ex-boyfriend, starting calling incessantly, only to shoot the shit or ask her to some social gathering. With Andy, it was different because he wanted to murder me. He being, of course, not the first ex-boyfriend who had it out for me, I felt rather comfortable with the entire situation. I almost looked forward to the first rendezvous so I could stand there, arm around my girl, smirking in that alpha-male territorial style victory pose. But alas, the night he knocked on our apartment door, I felt different. I felt, not sorry, but understanding of his situation. I was more than a gracious host; offering plenty of food and drinks. Once he departed, I felt quite the enjoyable closure. Regardless of his petty stabs at me during his stay, I kept my cool and, most importantly, my girl.

From what I have seen, gathered and heard, Danny seems like a standup guy. I can only place so much judgment on someone whom I have never met. And I strongly hesitate to make any further claims until I have witnessed them firsthand. This is generally a good rule of thumb to live by, for all you rather racist folk. Unfortunately, I don’t think Britni understands me regarding this issue. I believe she thinks I am upset or jealous that the two of them are now communicating / exchanging numbers. I do admit that at first I was a little upset because I felt that things were no longer in my control. I felt out of my element. But I think this was completely acceptable and normal. Now, after spending some time reflecting on the subject, I find myself more (sorta) confused (maybe). I am hardly threatened by his existence. I mean, only slightly more so than another other male, stranger or not. But then the question arises of when should I feel threatened? Feeling threatened isn’t accepting defeat nor forfeiting victory. I understand this much. Feeling threatened or being concerned simply means that I am raising my eyebrow, speaking softly and carrying a big stick. I would hardly call myself overprotective, but I do care about the outcome of my relationship. (gasp! a man actually caring? NO!) I do not fear losing her to him since she’s told me on several occasions she has no feelings towards him at all. I feel strong about our relationship. I trust (and love) her completely and he doesn’t seem like the asshole type. I guess I’m in the clear. I just don’t want to look back at this and mutter “why didn’t I see this coming?” or “i should have kicked some ass when I had the chance.” And you know what? If she does up and leave me, for him, or anyone else for that matter… she wasn’t worth me anyway. Right? At least that’s what they say.

I do, however, wholeheartedly wish to meet the kid sometime. I suppose we must have something in common to have falling in love with the same girl, at least sometime in our lives. Yet this inexplicable phenomenon seems so taboo. Maybe there would be an awkwardness? Probably no more than a regular doctor’s visit for a full physical. Maybe I just wish Britni wouldn’t hide me so much? Or rather, make me feel hidden? This is an entirely different tangent that we can discuss later.

So, yeah, if you ever read this Danny. Instant message me sometime: NaViD aZiMi. We can shoot the shit or something.

Adieu. Navid.