I don’t think women do this, but I could be wrong. Women hardly ever invite me to eavesdrop on their conversations about sex. Dammit. Some men do this, however, and it’s them I would like to discuss today. You women can listen in, I don’t mind.
There are two versions of this practice that break down along sexual orientation lines. Gay and bisexual men will tend to tell stories about straight, or at least publicly straight, men who tried to have sex with them, but they declined. Straight men will claim that they had sex with a woman known to those present for discussion. Perhaps Dice Clay parodied this nonsense best when he joked, “Mother Goose? I fucked her!”
Whether any of these claims are true, and I suspect most of them are not, doesn’t make a bit of difference. The very fact that the claims are made reveals quite a bit about the claimant, and the revelation is not flattering. There is no healthy, mature motivation for one person to share stories of sexual conquest or continence with another. It’s even worse when the story telling occurs in a group context.
In a day in which American sexual understanding and ethics have never been worse, and it seems there is no shortage of people looking to blow up the reputations of select others on rumor alone (e.g. Rep. Katie Hill), we need to see those who recklessly share self serving accounts of their own sexual behavior for the irresponsible, immature people they are. We also need to steer clear lest we become the subject of their next set of fictions.
I have heard people complain that they can’t go to a movie anymore because there always seems to be someone nearby who is carrying on a conversation with someone, taking a phone call, has seen the movie too many times and so speaks the lines with or before the actors do, or any number of obnoxious behaviors that might be appropriate in your living room but certainly aren’t appropriate in a theater.
I am coming to think that concerts aren’t much better. Of course, if you are at a Metallica concert you probably wouldn’t even notice any of these behaviors because you would be far too busy thinking about how much they suck and wondering why you spent your money on these outrageously priced tickets, but I digress. Here’s my list of things not to do at a concert.
- Unless the artist has specifically invited you to sing along, don’t. The reason is that you can’t sing – not even a little bit. I so want to break this to you delicately. If you auditioned for American Idol, your audition would be one of those they show for people to laugh at. Even if you sing in your church choir, screaming descants at the top of your soprano lungs, you still don’t sing as well as the artist you paid to see and hear. How do I know? I know this because you are in a seat, not on stage. If you are still convinced that you are good enough to sing along, sell all your shit, move to Nashville, and spend the rest of your life waiting tables while you wait for your big break, which isn’t likely to come. If I end up being wrong about you and you do make it in Nashville, let me know and I will send you a written apology. Until then, please shut up at concerts.
- I don’t care how much you love God and really want to tickle his ass, leave your arms down. The reason is that while you are waving your arms about reaching for God’s butt, the people behind you can’t see the artist they paid a lot of money to see. You are being obnoxious. Obnoxious people really irritate the shit out of Jesus, and he will slap you silly when and if you manage to get to heaven – which isn’t too likely, given that you are so selfish that you raise your arms at concerts. If you aren’t trying to tickle God’s testes, why in the world are your arms up? Are you being mugged? Call 911, but put your arms down.
- Don’t try to carry on a conversation with the artist or scream out that you love them. They aren’t your friend, even if they are nice to you. Lots of people are present to hear the artist sing, or tell jokes, or whatever they do. They have not purchased tickets to eavesdrop on your private conversation with the artist, no matter how fascinating you think it might be. If you feel compelled to shout, “I love you,” don’t. Seek help from a qualified mental health professional immediately before you get arrested, you budding stalker. Your love is unrequited. In fact, you are scaring everyone around you. The artist does not love you and never will. In fact, if you keep screaming stuff at their concerts, they may very well come to despise you. Just stop.
This isn’t an exhaustive list, but it’s a good start. Shape up, or stop going to concerts. It’s just that simple.
Americans are fascinate with things we perceive to be exotic. I became acutely aware of this truth when I became an Episcopalian and was suddenly exposed to people who had never left the United States but had somehow acquired a British accent. Another example is that people just love to take their shoes off at yoga centers, meditation halls, any place that even seems vaguely Eastern. I don’t think it would take a lot of effort to convince people that going to the bathroom is a deeply spiritual practice if we would just place a mat for them to leave their shoes at the entrance. Almost as popular is contorting our Western bodies into positions that Eastern folks regularly assume but those of us raised with, say, chairs never do.
We assume that doing all of these rather unusual external behaviors by definition make us more spiritual. The problem is that they don’t. There is nothing about sitting in full lotus that would prevent a raging ass hat from assuming the position. In fact, you can see it at just about any spiritual center. The truth is that there isn’t anything about any external behavior that transforms us internally. Those external practices can actually become a barrier if they reinforce our ego by supporting the idea that we are better than our fellow practitioners.
In the end, if bending yourself into a pretzel shape helps you with your practice then that is a beautiful thing and you should keep right on doing it. If you can’t manage to turn your body into a piece of origami, you should know that sitting in a chair will neither hinder nor accelerate your practice. Perhaps we need to be asking ourselves whether we could practice if we found ourselves on a deserted island with none of our objects (or positions) of attachment.