Analogies, expressions, and insults.

I’m not good with any of those.  This has been a lifelong issue, and I believe, hereditary. 
Anytime I hear a situation in which I’d like to expose or highlight the absurdity of it, my mind immediately jumps to an analogy.  The problem is, my analogies are obtuse at best, and sometimes just flat out don’t make any damn sense at all to anyone else.  Here’s an example. 

I was chatting with Mini-Bottom and Sweet B about dating.  They are not in to dating men that are younger than them.  I almost said they don’t like dating “younger men” but then you may believe I encourage cougar-ism, which despite some very poorly phrased things that I’ve said, I’m not trying to push.  I just think it’s okay to date someone a year or two younger, if you get along.  Anyway, the point of the matter is, while I think it’s okay to date “younger men”, it becomes a turn-off when the age differences are constantly highlighted.  It’d be weird to see a “Class of 2008” Letterman’s jacket hung over a chair, or have him confused about what Fraggle Rock was, or watch him play beer pong eight nights a week.

Let’s skip to another thought.  I don’t like eating meat that looks like the animal it used to be.  I honestly believe there’s nothing wrong with eating animals, and that we were engineered to do so (if you look at our teeth, how we get energy, etc.).  Props to all you vegetarians out there, but I like meat, and I’m not sorry for it.  However, just because I love me a cheeseburger, doesn’t mean I want a patty shaped like a cow.  In the same vein, I don’t like eating fish when it’s staring at me.  By the time my meat reaches me, it should be processed and prepared enough so that I don’t have to constantly think about eating Bambi or whatever meat I’m working with. 

Do you see how those two thoughts could be tied together?  Neither did Mini-Bottom or Sweet B.

AF: When you get to be my age, dating younger men is like eating meat.  Just like you don’t want your meat to be shaped like an animal, you don’t want to constantly be reminded that the guy is younger than you.  (Obviously.)

MB: Wait…huh?

SB: (as she is wont to do, Sweet B heard something entirely different.  Seriously, sometimes I am concerned about her hearing.)  Whoa whoa whoa…why are you dating animals? 

FAIL.

My inability to properly use expressions does not arise from English being my second language.  This is because English is my first language.  It may be due, in part, to my mom’s side of the family being from Kentucky, and having very colorful expressions like, “If you feel froggy, jump”.  My grandma may be the worst at this:

“…like a bullfrog in a china cabinet!”  Actual expression: “…like a bull in a china shop.”

Or my personal favorite:

“F&*% you and the horse you’re chasing!”  Actual expression: “F*&$ you and the horse you rode in on.”

Oh, Granny…

Maybe I’m overly cautious because I’ve heard expressions fouled up so much in the past.  If I try to say something, I usually say it, then stop and ask if I used the expression right. 

AF: That’s a horse of a different color.  Wait, it is horses, right?  That’s the expression? 
AF: A tiger doesn’t change it’s spots.  Wait, I mean a leopard doesn’t change it’s spots.

I also don’t understand expressions sometimes.  I’m sure they were borne because people wanted to express a thought in a very quick, easily understandable manner, but sometimes they just lose me.  I always thought the expression was, “You can’t see the forest through the trees.”  You know, because sometimes you could be so bogged down in details you couldn’t see the much bigger picture?  No, apparently it’s “You can’t see the forest for the trees.”  And now I’m lost.  Does that mean that you can’t see a situation for what it really is?  I have no idea. 

I think part of my problem is that I look for a much deeper meaning in everything than I should.  For years I didn’t get the Kay Jewelers slogan, “Every Kiss begins with K(ay)”.  I thought the implication was that kissing, nay, love and romance, could only be set into motion upon the receipt of a piece of jewelry.  The sheer cynicism was offensive.  Then one day it occurred to me that it was just a clever play on the letter “k” because in fact, the word kiss always begins with the letter “k”.  So, while I guess the implication is still that romance is promulgated by gifts, the slogan is, in fact, a true statement.  This is how my brain works, people.  Holy shit on fire, that ad is only a 15 second radio commercial; can you imagine how long it takes me to figure other stuff in life out?

All let’s talk about insults.  As you may have guessed, I’m not so good at them.  I can joke around and make witty comments with the best of them, but I can’t get the insults or trash-talking thing down for the life of me.  I tried, in high school, to trash-talk while playing soccer.  We were playing a school I hated, because not only were their girls corn-fed behemoths that liked to run us over and just embarrass us on the scoreboard, the girls themselves were mean.  They talked trash all the time and were really good at making a person feel like shit.  So one day I decided to fight back.

I don’t remember exactly what was said, but the Giant Mean Girl said something along the lines of you suck (insert personal insult) blah blah blah.

AF: (I may have stood up a little straighter; I spoke more forcefully.)  What did you say?!

GMG: (she repeated exactly what she had just said, only this time, it was accompanied by a stronger, ruder voice, direct eye contact, and the head roll bitchy girls do so well.)

AF: Oh, okay. 

I’m pretty sure she won that round.  The thing is, she called my bluff.  I didn’t have a backup plan after the initial challenge.  I hoped that my question would be appropriately interpreted as a rhetorical one, albeit as a demand for some respect.  It was not.  Again, I’m putting too much thought into this, probably. 

Today I mostly don’t bother trying to be quick-witted when insulting someone or trash-talking.  You know why?  Because when I think of things to say, they aren’t funny, they’re mean.  My brain inexplicably jumps to responding with disproportional force.  I’m like the Israel of insults.

This is how badly things could go:

Random rude person: “You so ldjalsdjla;j that ya mama ldja;lsdjfl;ksdjf;ladj!  Ahahaha!”

AF: “Yeah, well you clearly have self-esteem issues, probably due to your lack of education and appropriate parental supervision while growing up, and this probably explains why you let men take advantage of you.”

Crickets.

See? Not funny.  When I’m insulted, if it’s not clearly intended as a harmless joke, my brain immediately recalls every flaw in the other person, every negative thing about their current circumstance.  It’s not becoming; I don’t like being judgmental and callous.  So, until I can learn to bring up something humorous and mostly harmless, I mostly just take it.  If I do anything these days, it’s respond with something like, “Aw, that’s not nice” or “I don’t appreciate it when you talk to me like that.”  I guess that’s more mature, but I wish I could be that person that diffuses tension with a quick retort or good joke.  I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have very many trash-talking encounters.