Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Where Is My Hank Moody?

I'm not looking. I always say, looking, expecting, pushing the issue, will come to nothing in the alien land of love. I have had a recent overdose of one man, albeit a fictional character, but he has managed to pinpoint certain past and present experiences in my life. I have stayed consistent in my love affairs, always a most obvious flaw in the material that makes each man an attraction to no end. Always the damaged material to keep me sufficiently entertained. The fictional character is Hank Moody of Californication craze, the role immortalized by David Duchovny, a flawed character himself. It has been questionable whether he is even acting, reports of his sexual addiction broadcasted on every page of the Internet and garbage celebrity tabloid. 

I recently watched every episode, 50 episodes in less that a week, encompassing myself within the glitz, glamor, and insanity of a world so opposite than my own. The warm feeling of entering the world of this character was pure escapism, but at the same time I see the immediate comparisons to my life, or at least my choices in the opposite sex. Hank Moody, the attractive tornado of drama moving randomly through women's lives, considers himself a feather in the wind, never accepting total responsibility for his actions. Whether he's having a one night stand with a teen or bedding women that fall into his path immediately, his character is definitely flawed. He continues to make bad decisions, although often under the influence of anything to numb the hole in his heart left by his true love, and mother of his daughter. The general respect he has for each woman he sleeps with is admirable, an uncontrollable love for "the woman" in total, every intricate aspect of each character. He is conscious of his affect on them although incapable of turning a blind eye to the attention, obviously initially filled by his soul mate. 

In comparison to my life, I see Hank in every man I have dated, bedded and known as a friend. My attraction to this type of character is not to heal him of his woes, or to tame him of his free spirit. Men are basic in my eyes, the ones more in control are harder to get to know truly, as they are as protected and controlled as I am. My last long term relationship was that perfect example, where it ended in confusion, as I questioned anything that happened for three years. Currently I feel as though Hank is actually part of my life, yet as infrequent as watching an episode monthly. He is like a tide, and although I originally confronted him in an inebriated state requesting his services, popping in and out of my life just enough to remind me he is around. 

The other night I expected some cameras and lights to appear as I was sure I was transported into a scene from Californication, all the characters from my life instead. A woman, whom has shared some intimate nights with this flawed man, approached me, questioning our relationship, her flawed mind sufficiently numbed by her own vices. I remember before arranging any intimate plans, his quick story of his tryst with her, and I being immediately disappointed. She and I are complete opposites, from my eyes, and I have known her as, being delicate, more open than me. Her dramatics like a halo surrounding her, enveloping anyone near her. I have always enjoyed both roads, high and low, and began with initial jealousy, Facebook information boring into my brain. Deleting that information, and sealing the deal with Mr. Flaw gave me a step up and I felt empowered, but not for long. I have had her in the dark corner of my mind until the other night. 

Like a flurry of tension, agitation and nervousness, possibly misconstrued as a concoction of her numbing-of-choice this evening, she began a conversation with me, regarding her work and such, the stress obviously spilling out threw her lips, as she spoke without breathing. The inevitable topic came up, and the bartender, bending his ear, backed away giving me a quick look of horror. It was as if she needed to get the information off her chest, her obvious jealousy and curiosity. I was in a scene from my favourite show! Do I take the high road or the low? I am always conscious of her random actions and reactions, and had to make a choice immediately. High road it was, as she began to spew out her thoughts on him and how she knew we were both utilizing him simultaneously, at least for awhile. She touted his expertise and attention to detail in the bed, as I slowly numbed a bit myself, and I listened intently, knowing I could be cut down like a huge cedar in seconds with one or two ill chosen words. Interrupting her oral diarrhea, I simply stated that my encounters were mediocre of the "many" times we have been together, pointing out his often misfortune of drinking too much, where his performance was hindered. She asked me how old I was, and I wondered why the question, considering it didn't seem to matter. I told her my ripe age of 43 and she not only fell off here chair (in her mind), but also saw the different connection he and I have, more in the realm of friends. I was on edge waiting for her to take the stab but she ended up complimenting me, astonished at my cool demeanor, confidence and ownership of my age, she being young enough to possibly be my daughter (if I had a child at 18). She immediately dwindled and fumbled through her conversation, my assumption being defeat in her pickled brain. I didn't feel like I won or lost but rather, I stood up to confrontation with poise and confidence.

feelings of jealousy and ownership are gone and I feel more in control than before, in more ways than one. Hank - expect a call soon...

Jen McIntyre | Create your badge

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