Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood.
She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow.
She took the snake home and nursed it back to health.
One day the snake bit her on the cheek.
As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?"
And the snake answered, "Look bitch, you knew I was a snake."
This is one of my favorite parables. Not only because of the Tarantino connection and the profanity ("mittens!") but because of just how true it rings.
My teen years were spent embroiled in this thoroughly ridiculous mess of a relationship. Looking back, I realize just how adolescent and pointless it was. But, when you're sixteen -- it's easy to justify sheer idiocy and I had a three-pronged attack.
1. I "loved" him and "understood" him in a way that no-one else did.
Ummm, no Miss Mensa. You didn't and you didn't. It wasn't so much love as it was wanting to be in love. See what happens when you surround yourself with movies and music? All those great scenes and song lyrics make you nuts. Just ask Rob Fleming.
2. He was different.
Wrong again, Baby Einstein. Well, actually -- he was different because unlike the men in my life now, homeboy had a doctorate in douchebaggery. A doD, if you will. Unfortunately, Sixteen-Year-Old Jaime thought he was different because he whispered all those sweet nothings that every girl wants to hear. I wasn't friends with The Best Friend yet because if I had been -- he would have smacked me upside the head and said, "Hey asshole! He's only nice 'cause he wants to get in your pants!" Damn you, Biffle. Why didn't we meet sooner?
Let's try for a hat trick, shall we?
3. We were destined.
Oh Sweet Caroline, how do you even get dressed in the morning?! It wasn't destiny so much as it was cheap rent that was responsible for putting the two of you in the same neighborhood.
If I had just realized, "Look bitch, you knew he was a snake," I could have spared myself some seriously pathetic personal history.
Instead of moping about this dude and writing endless paeans about the 'complex' nature of our relationship (in reality, our relationship was about as complex as a monotone Rubix's Cube) -- I could have been out eating a great sandwich or learning to salsa dance or whatever it is people do when they're not languishing in the throes of self-involved assery.
However, as much as I'd like to take back those countless hours where I connected to R&B tracks on a disturbingly personal level, without that experience -- I wouldn't have realized just how amazingly wonderful the Nice Guy is.
Yeah -- the nice guy. The guy who eats his vegetables, loves his mom, calls when he says he's going to, compliments you sans ulterior motive and makes your life easy. Or, if you're so inclined -- the nice girl. You know, someone like this:
(image courtesy of IngredientX.com)
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is -- look bitch, you mess around with snakes and you're going to get bitten. Granted, some people get a buzz from the venom, but this girl? She's with Indy when it comes to snakes.
P.S.: My guy loves broccoli, is taking his mom to see The Dark Knight, is pretty great about keeping phone dates, told me I looked pretty this morning and makes my life fairly easy. In the words of Salt 'N Pepa and En Vogue -- whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man. Hmmm...that's two references to R&B in one entry. Someone's been spending a bit too much time at 90's R&B Junkie.
She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow.
She took the snake home and nursed it back to health.
One day the snake bit her on the cheek.
As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?"
And the snake answered, "Look bitch, you knew I was a snake."
This is one of my favorite parables. Not only because of the Tarantino connection and the profanity ("mittens!") but because of just how true it rings.
My teen years were spent embroiled in this thoroughly ridiculous mess of a relationship. Looking back, I realize just how adolescent and pointless it was. But, when you're sixteen -- it's easy to justify sheer idiocy and I had a three-pronged attack.
1. I "loved" him and "understood" him in a way that no-one else did.
Ummm, no Miss Mensa. You didn't and you didn't. It wasn't so much love as it was wanting to be in love. See what happens when you surround yourself with movies and music? All those great scenes and song lyrics make you nuts. Just ask Rob Fleming.
2. He was different.
Wrong again, Baby Einstein. Well, actually -- he was different because unlike the men in my life now, homeboy had a doctorate in douchebaggery. A doD, if you will. Unfortunately, Sixteen-Year-Old Jaime thought he was different because he whispered all those sweet nothings that every girl wants to hear. I wasn't friends with The Best Friend yet because if I had been -- he would have smacked me upside the head and said, "Hey asshole! He's only nice 'cause he wants to get in your pants!" Damn you, Biffle. Why didn't we meet sooner?
Let's try for a hat trick, shall we?
3. We were destined.
Oh Sweet Caroline, how do you even get dressed in the morning?! It wasn't destiny so much as it was cheap rent that was responsible for putting the two of you in the same neighborhood.
If I had just realized, "Look bitch, you knew he was a snake," I could have spared myself some seriously pathetic personal history.
Instead of moping about this dude and writing endless paeans about the 'complex' nature of our relationship (in reality, our relationship was about as complex as a monotone Rubix's Cube) -- I could have been out eating a great sandwich or learning to salsa dance or whatever it is people do when they're not languishing in the throes of self-involved assery.
However, as much as I'd like to take back those countless hours where I connected to R&B tracks on a disturbingly personal level, without that experience -- I wouldn't have realized just how amazingly wonderful the Nice Guy is.
Yeah -- the nice guy. The guy who eats his vegetables, loves his mom, calls when he says he's going to, compliments you sans ulterior motive and makes your life easy. Or, if you're so inclined -- the nice girl. You know, someone like this:
(image courtesy of IngredientX.com)
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is -- look bitch, you mess around with snakes and you're going to get bitten. Granted, some people get a buzz from the venom, but this girl? She's with Indy when it comes to snakes.
P.S.: My guy loves broccoli, is taking his mom to see The Dark Knight, is pretty great about keeping phone dates, told me I looked pretty this morning and makes my life fairly easy. In the words of Salt 'N Pepa and En Vogue -- whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man. Hmmm...that's two references to R&B in one entry. Someone's been spending a bit too much time at 90's R&B Junkie.
2 comments on "Look bitch -- you knew I was a snake"
"Look bitch, you knew I was a snake." - I LOVE IT. I too could have spared myself some pathetic-ness had this lovely little gem presented itself to me earlier.
In my case, I always seem to learn these vital lesson a little too late!
Post a Comment