Flummoxing Freaks and Frustrating Fatuity

My second submission to the e-zine "The Inner Condition," and a truthful exploration of the events surrounding a simple coffee shop outing. Warning- contains language.

    Flummoxed. Flabbergasted. Frustrated.

    These "F" words are all substitutes for the phrase I would actually like to use to describe my reaction to my latest study. I won't bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say that I think my brain is about to explode.

    I am a freak. I am an anomaly of the human race. Or, at the very least, part of it. The younger part. I am a completely different creature from the vast majority of people I meet who were born around 1993 or so. Did I choose this title? Not at all. Do I even fully believe it? Definitely not. But the more I look into the reason behind the name-calling, the more I come to understand- and even agree- with it.

    Let me paint you a picture. It's not a pleasant image, but a necessary one. I'm out and about in a city in New England. A small one, as far as East Coast cities go in the United States, but a city nonetheless. I am a nineteen year old woman. I'm not exactly dressed up for my outing, but I'm not exactly dressed down, either. I'm wearing my favorite everyday boots, my casual stone-wash skinny-fit blue jeans, my favorite gray and black striped turtleneck sweater, my Victorian-inspired long-coat, and my Persian scarf. I wear thin-rim rectangular glasses. Practical ones, mind you. My naturally curly red hair is parted on the right, and pulled into a half ponytail with a bit of bangs across my forehead. I'm sporting my alumni-association ring. My makeup is minor and only accentuates- it does not aim to cover flaws I don't mind having, and it does not aim to stop the show with a thick and clotted presence. My demeanor remains friendly, light, and gracious. I had my favorite Sherlock Holmes novel tucked under my arm when I entered, and it lay beside my arm on the counter top. Synopsis? He knew what he was getting into. There was no way he actually missed the signals I make sure to exude.

    And yet, while I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop having my morning cup and reading the local newspaper, A young man proceeds to situate himself on the stool next to me. I don't mind. I like company- usually.

    He is my physical opposite in every way. Of course, that doesn't speak of his mind, but I like to think that a person's appearance is always an indicator of their lifestyle and their mental leanings. His blue jeans sag, his shoes are more expensive than my entire ensemble, his hat is precariously perched on top of his shaven and tattooed cranium, and his mannerisms are cocky and abrupt. Still, I look over and smile at him, before returning to my paper. Until I hear this: "Hey, baby, are you DTF?"

    I know what it means. I don't live under a rock. But I still play dumb, to see if it puts him off. It doesn't. "Excuse me?" I say. And he leans in closer, his overbearing cologne assaulting my senses and making my eyes water, and has the audacity to lay his hand on my thigh.

    "Awww, yea, girl,  you ballin'! My girlfriend don't have to know, baby. Hows about you and me get down to business, ai'ite? C'mon, I'll give ya a ride in my low rida' if you ride me."
    I smile to hide my anger, and pick up his hand as though it were made of hot coals. I set it back down on the counter firmly and look him dead in the eye.

    "Sir, I cannot fathom why your intentions would be to cheat on your girlfriend, and even then, your way of going about locating a one-night stand is preposterous. She doesn't deserve that sort of disrespect, and you should be ashamed." I am not trying to sound more intelligent than he- in fact, for all I know, he could be a member of MENSA. It's just the way I talk. I have always talked like that, since I began talking. I just love words, and I love to form sentences that make sense and leave nothing dangerous to be contrived from between the lines. I find it easier to convey my point that way.

    He blinks for a moment, and looks angry.

    "Girl, are we gonna f**k or not?" I sigh, knowing I have not been understood. Again. As usual.

    "No."

    "Why not?" He demands. I give him the truthful list. I've got nothing to lose.

    "You're not my type, you're asking me for something I refuse to give to anyone I'm not married to, or at the very least in an extremely long-term monogamous relationship with, and you want to use me for physical gratification to cheat on your likely unsuspecting girlfriend."

     I can't keep myself from wanting to see his reaction. He looks confused.

    "Mon-what?" It takes me a couple seconds to realize what he's asking.

    "Monogamous."

    "What da f**k does that mean?"

    "It means to be in an exclusive relationship with no more than one other person. Faithful married couples are monogamous. The opposite of monogamous is polygamous, which means to be involved with more than one person at the same time."

    I have been through this song and dance before, but I almost choked on my coffee after his next statement.

    "Girl, you makin' that up? I ain't neva heard of that word. An' why would you want to only f**k one guy when you can get with a lot of dem? You a freak, b***h."

    And he got up and left.

    I could barely process what I had just heard. It stuck in my head like an annoying, yet catchy melody for the rest of the day, until I used a website I frequent to ask a question of the masses based on my experience. My question was directed at people born in the 1990's, though anyone of any age and background around the world was open to respond. I asked for opinions on whether or not the 1990's generation of young adults will be mentally capable of remaining monogamous up to and through old age. It was clear, concise, and to the point. A simple, "what do you think?" I was genuinely curious to see what other people believed. I knew I would receive mixed results. What I wasn't expecting was the content of the answers I received.

    Two-hundred-and-two people do not make up the whole of society by any means, but it's no number to scoff at when asking an opinion-oriented question. Scientific studies have been conducted with less. Out of those two-hundred-and-two people that answered, all of which were born between 1990 and 1997, sixty-seven percent did not know the meaning of the word monogamous, and when it was explained to them, could not comprehend why anyone would want to remain monogamous for an extended period of time. Especially after "my girl get those wrinkles and saggy tits and stuff" and "his junk stops working and he gets old." The rest either answered with an opinion that was not exactly well defined, or told me I must be a twelve-year-old troll who just plucked that word out of a dictionary to impress people, and to go cry to my mommy about my relationship problems. A very small number of people, most of whom were over the age of 25, managed to respond with clarity that sparked stimulating debate and conversation.

    As the results poured in and I collected my information that I used only for personal gain (and now to write this article), I began to feel more and more adrift in a sea of ignorance. How do you go to school and actively live in the world, and never come across the word "monogamous" or even have a grasp of what it means? What's more is that I easily understand people who choose polyamory and polygamy as a way to share their love amongst each other, but even they do not go to the level of simply "doing the deed" with every single person they come across. In fact, my polyamorous friends have fewer crushes than I do on a regular basis.

    I have been blown away by these answers. I have not been able to stop thinking about it since. I cannot stop talking about it. I'm not exactly sure of what to make of it. I am now discredited by many people on that website-and in person- for being "too smart," for possessing the desire to be in an exclusive and faithful relationship someday, for not wanting to have ludicrous amounts of plastic surgery done to extend the longevity of my youth far beyond its natural years, and for generally being an "untouchable frigid b***h who doesn't know what she's missing." I am missing something though- I'm missing the memo that said apparently gave everyone license to run around on everyone else and destroy themselves from the inside out, and then tell others that having singularity is wrong and imbecilic.

    So, I am a freak for all these things. I am still flummoxed, flabbergasted, and frustrated, but I am quite happily a newly minted side-show attraction. And, by this new definition of the term, I hope you are all freaks, too.

 

Author's Note

What are your thoughts on this academic- and social- crisis? Also, what's your take on monogamy, on a whole? I'd love to hear some thoughts!