For being such a puny lot, skateboarders really intimidated me growing up. It's not even that I think that they'd be fun to date. All the skaters I knew where obsessed with boring things: their deck, landing tricks, wearing baggy clothing, etc. They weren't even particularly funny. They had terrible handwriting. They had the attention span of a housefly. What's the appeal?You know what it was? It was their attitude. Or rather, their terrible attitude. They did not give a fuck. And, I liked that. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to give a fuck about me, which I clearly didn't like. In the summer, I'd walk by Astor Place, a notorious '90s skater hang out in NYC, and I wouldn't even turn a head. Walking anywhere wearing a tank top in NYC is pretty much an open invitation for sexual harassment, so in a weird twist not receiving any attention from the skaters bummed me out. What? No takers? C'mon! Apparently, I'm skateboarder kryptonite. I even wrote for Thrasher for a spell in college, hoping to impress a skater down the line. I never even got the chance to namedrop that factoid to a guy on wheels! *shakes fist at sky*
I've never dated a skater which is a minor regret in my life. I dated an ex-skater once which was a bit of a thrill even though I never got to hear his wheels on the pavement rolling towards me. Whatever. I've learned to accept my fate. Skaters are like these mythical creatures that I will never get to observe up close, like a unicorn or a minotaur. So, skaters, I choose to reject you. I'm not interested in hearing about how you landed a front-nose-ollie-bagel-grab 960. Oh, who am I kidding? I totally want to hear about that. That actually sounds pretty awesome.
6 comments:
you know what not fun? watching your skater land tricks for hours just *hoping* he will make out with you. Here's how it ends: he doesn't.
You didn't miss much. Next time you feel regretful about it, try to recall this image: In college I hung out with a house-full of skaters. Of the 6 of them, 2 did not own tooth brushes. They "cleaned" their teeth by rubbing a washcloth on them while they were in the shower. The same washcloth they used to wash the rest of their bodies. And they shared this washcloth. This was not strange to anyone but me.
Skaters never wanted to date me either, Anna.
Thanks for the insight, Jon.
I have lusted after skaters all through late high school, college and beyond and now, through some bizzaro twist of fate, I am engaged to one. Sure, he's more of a casual skater these days, but boy was I pumped when he mentioned his 4-wheeled hobby on an early date! I love him dearly and I still enjoy that he's a skater, but let me tell you, it's no less irritating when we wind up scheduling our week around making sure he can "get in a sesh" or when we're out and I find myself talking to air because he's looking for the source of that conspicuous wheels-on-pavement sound. Not to mention the occasional bloody wounds and hideously huge bruises...
This post made me put Suicidal Tendencies first album on repeat.
Keep up the great work!
Thanks Brett! You totally made me smile.
xoxo,
anna
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