By: Matt Gordon
The following is adapted from the humor collection “The Monkeys of God.”
A few months ago, my lovely wife walked in on me, saw what I was doing, and with a shake of the head proclaimed, “You are so weird.”
It really shook me. For days I tried to observe common human behaviors to see whether I fit into what was normal, but it was a blurred line. What I found was convoluted at best, and then it dawned on me–it isn’t about discovering what’s weird and what isn’t. No, that’s always in flux. The crux (it’s fun to get two “-ux” rhyming words that close together!) of the matter is just finding out what is weird on you, like seeing if a tux (BOOM! Another one!) fits. Some guys can get away with fluffy lapels or baby blues, some guys can’t. What is weird on one may be acceptable, even cool, on another. I feel like most the stuff I do is pretty chic. But I want to be sure. So is it weird that . . .
-Sometimes at home I sneak down to use the small, half-bathroom downstairs? Not really weird at all, man.
-When I’m in this bathroom, I lock the door? Pretty normal guy, it seems.
-I choose this bathroom and lock the door for a clearly defined reason? A man of logic! A man of the people!
-The reason I choose this bathroom is because there’s a wreath in here I like? Oh, a man who values aesthetics. What a rare, stylish find he is!
-I like the wreath because it’s spiky and shiny and golden and kind of sharp on the ends. If a diamond is a girl’s best friend, gold is a man’s good buddy. A kingly fellow! Carry on, sir!
-I like to remove the wreath from the tack on which it hangs and inspect it. Who doesn’t like to get his hands on a thing, test its sturdiness, see how it is wrought together? A man’s man, indeed!
-Mainly, I like to slip the wreath on my head. Um, what was that again? On your head, you say?
-Once crowned, I pretend I am transported from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I gaze whimsically and confusedly into the mirror and wonder how I, Oberon, King of the Magical Beings of the Forest realm, have been transported to such a strange, modern porcelain throne such as this! Dude, you’re losing me. Probably not stuff you should share, okay?
-Usually I’m not even using the bathroom at all. You are so weird.
Okay, so what? Maybe I’m a bit . . . I don’t know . . . unique? So what if my wife comes upstairs and finds my guitar stand hooked around the back of my neck, with its arm extending straight down my back and ending in a grab-like way around the lower spine region, and when she asks what I’m doing I respond calmly, “Recovering from Spinal Replacement Surgery. I’ll have to wear this brace for life.”? We all have our things, right?
I’m fine being that guy.
But when I’m not, when I’m fed up with being the “weird” one of our household or whatever, I just march downstairs to the little half bathroom. There I can become something, someone, else entirely. There I am Oberon, King of the Magical Beings of the Forest realm. I dare you to look the crowned king in the face and call him weird. Yeah, that’s what I thought.