Paranoia, Paranoia, Everybody's Coming To Get Me

(I used to hate this song and video, in part because my junior-year RA said, when this was a new single in 1997, that this is one of the greatest songs of all-time.  That Harvey Danger became a one-hit wonder makes them ... small enough for me to reconsider.  And actually, the fact that the lead singer looks like a nerd [fuck, all of them do] makes me realize I'm a lot closer to them than I thought back in college.  In retrospect, their lyrics are pretty fucking insightful.  Like!)

Paranoia, or at least fear, is a constant companion in my life.  It motivates me to do things, but just as often it motivates me not to do things.  Most of the time I base my decisions on two things: 1) How will this put me at risk, and 2) Who will get mad at me as a result.

I don't like it.  I can't just say I don't live my life in fear because I can't really choose that, and anybody who says that they don't is fucking lying to you.  My life is ruled by fear.  That's just a fact.

Take, for example, My Fucking Father.  On Friday I think he fucking dropped the facade that he had to impress his son-in-law.  Although he made an excellent rib dinner for him, my sister and I (but not Mother, who had plans to go to a party that night -- a party???), the chit-chat, where he was as loquacious as Falstaff, was completely absent.  After about 45 minutes of polite conversation, we took the plates over to the kitchen counter, where he washed them.  And as my sister and brother-in-law were doing other things, and I retreated into my bedroom because I'm an introvert, Father finished cleaning up and then went downstairs, from whence he never came back up from the rest of the night.  I see this often from him, but not with "guests" around.

So to see him revert to his antisocial self in front of his new family, especially after rolling out the red carpet for him, makes me very, very afraid.  Is he just downshifting into his "real" self, or was he pissed off that day?  We spent it, BTW, at the Megamall, and because they had to buy so much, we didn't get back until 7:30.  Is it possible that he did not take in stride, like my sister said, and he's privately miffed at all of us for, in a sense, wasting his time?

That backdrop I took into account Sunday, when I spent time as the fifth wheel with my sister, brother-in-law, brother, and sister-in-law.  We went tried to go out to their place, and after getting lost, just decided to rendezvous at an outdoor shopping mall, where we proceeded to spend the next two to three hours shopping.  I didn't need anything, however, and to be honest, it's kind of hard to keep your interest up if you don't need anything to buy.  (I don't have money either, but that's a moot point.)

A part of me thought that we didn't need to just spend time there.  We could've just gone home and waited for the next big part of the schedule that my sister and brother-in-law needed done: Meeting up with my sister's best friend to buy stuff for their camping trip this week.  I know that it would have spent a lot of gas going there, then going home, then going back again to the same shopping mall and then back home again.  But if we were out too long, My Fucking Father would get mad.  And I hate considering his selfish feelings, but I'm paranoid; I'm not in a position to just dismiss them as the juvenile emotions of a man-child (which he is) because I live in his fucking house.  So I thought (privately) that us just dinkin' around and shopping on a Sunday was not the way to appease the 'Rents.

Because I probably was the only person holding this opinion, I kept it to myself.  I will say that the hours went by faster than I thought, and we did spend about half an hour at their place.  Plus, it was nice to finally meet my step-nephew.  Before I knew it, my sister, brother-in-law and I were hanging out with my sister's best friend, where they went to buy camping gear and then food while I was dreaming about porn and sex.

When we got home, we (plus my brother and sister-in-law, who beat us home) immediately ate dinner.  While My Father wasn't the life of the party, he was more talkative than Friday.  Was it because he wasn't angry?  Was it because Mother was home?  Or was he really still pissed off, and he was just putting on airs, waiting for some other time to let his true feelings about being "abandoned" out when my sister and I least expect it?

I'm paranoid, I tell ya.  But it's not ridiculous.  Trust me.

---

On the other hand, maybe I court so much paranoia because, deep down, I like it.  There are some instances where it serves as a motivator, even as a crutch, like Linus's blanket.  I revel in the delight of what I just did, who might respond, and how I could get away with it.  The danger excites, even arouses me.

I'm talking about tonight, when I went to the party.  There were only three girls there: The host, *e**, my ATF, ***e*, and her friend, ******e.  I remember ******e when I was at her house for a party and I flashed her my dick in the bathroom after she jokingly asked to see it.  Well, even though there were six goddamn other guys at this party, somehow she walked into the kitchen while I was alone.  We traded pleasantries, then luckily for me she went to the table I was standing next to.

I turned around -- away from the opening, where people could come through.  Just as I was about to take myself out, she asked, "Do you remember me?"  Perfect line!  I said, "Yes.  Do you remember ... this?" and I whipped it out.  And she nonchalantly said, "Yes, you showed me at the party the last time."  Then a guy came in, but I was able to hide myself before he noticed.  I think.

***e* came in shortly thereafter, and I saw ******e whisper something in her ear at the other end of the kitchen.  Later, when ***e* was giving me a dance, she told me that she told her that I took "it" out.  Now, I would be mad because I was ratted out, but I didn't care.  In fact, I was so fucking glad she told.  Now my perverted exploits were known, and I didn't have to hide anymore.

Shit, while I and all three of them were in the upstairs landing giving dances, ******e told *e** that I exposed my cock to her.  Now, I was told a long time ago by ***e* that this is supposed to be a "clean" party because we could get busted otherwise.  But that's just bullshit, thankfully.  Extra shit happens all the time.  For example, after I got my 2-for-1 from her, ***e* untied my pants and put her hand down it to give my cock a quick squeeze!  We can finally stop lying to each other.  Wish I got a handjob from her, but I'll take it.

What I was really looking forward to was a plan thought up by ***e* when she was on top of me: After we were done, I'd escort her and ******e to their van (they came together).  ***e* would say to ******e that I had something to show her, and then I'd whip it out, right there on the dark street.  I would add something like, "So, you outed me to *e**, I might as well out myself again.  And then she'd give my main vein a squeeze, and then all three of us would make out in the van, and then we'd go to their house and have a three-way.

But it was not to be.  I was having a polite conversation with *e** at her porch when I saw those two get ready to leave.  The plan was in motion, and I was getting left behind.  As I raced to the front door, I called out to them: "Do you need an escort?"

No answer.  I said again: "Do you need an escort?"  But both of them ignored me.  Well, ******e just said "No thanks!" in a mean-girl tone, and somehow they bolted out of their like they were running.  Huh?

I tried getting my shoes on and running after them, but then I thought that'd be weird, if not psychopathic.  OK, I guess I was fed some stripper shit.  Don't compound the problem by acting like a stalker.

But I did want to leave the party, so I slowed down and left.  I had to go by their van because I was parked behind them.  I gave the strippers a wave instead of my penis as they drove away.

But they didn't drive away.  ******e was behind the wheel and she drove into the cul-de-sac where the townhouse was, and then ***e* got out and went back into the (now-done) party.  And then, ******e put the minivan in reverse out of the cul-de-sac and sped away.  Did she just leave the person she went to the party with?

I texted ***e* just in case she needed a ride.  Guess that meant that she didn't.  Bizarre.  And then I thought: Wait a second, she never responds to me unless she's working and sees me as a guy who can give her money.

And then I shoved that thought to the side when I wondered if I made them mad.  Was it because I told ******e I wouldn't get a dance from her after she groped me?  Did it stem from refusing ***e*'s crazy (though I kind of like it) request to expose myself in front of them and a guy who was getting a dance from both of them?  (See, this is why I want to be alone when I do that: It's for strippers' eyes only.)  Was she in fact upset that I took myself out at the kitchen?  Or, is it because I took the opportunity when both girls joined me and *e** out in the patio and I finally fulfilled my dream of taking out my penis in front of three women (only ***e* I knew saw; *e** probably didn't witness my pink thing)?

I have no fucking idea.  Moreover, the weird events that took place in front of my eyes after talking to *e** at the patio implant potentially worrisome consequences in my head.  Are the girls really mad at me?  Did ***e* run back inside to rat on me?  Are they asking one of the guys there to kick my ass?  Would they use my personal information to shame me?  I won't lie: I was afraid one of those guys at the party was tailing me as I was driving to the coffeeshop, ready to hunt me down and kill me for not being a "gentleman."

But you know what?  I'm not as anxious about these paranoid fears as I was about the ones concerning My Fucking Father.  Why?  Probably because they all arise from me finally doing what I want to do: Showing down-and-dirty strippers my dong.  I might not be analyzing all the bad things that could happen to me, but I think about them while being tantalized at what I have just done tonight.

Hopefully this all makes sense.

(By the way, although they are known for "Flagpole Sitta," I think their follow-up single, "Sad Sweetheart Of The Rodeo," is an even better tune, if only for the "ah-hoooooooo-hooooooooo!"):