I used to work with a guy who seemed to know everything about everything. I’m not even kidding. Pick a topic –any topic—and this man would launch into a thesis on the subject.
“Hey Bob, what kind of oil was spilled off the coast of Alaska?” (This was the late 80s.)
“That was Prudhoe Bay crude,” I remember him saying. “Light, but volatile. Extremely volatile.”
Thanks, Bob. You’re a damn smart man.
In some ways, I feel like a “Bob.”
My brain is bursting with useless information I’ve acquired over the last year and a half. An odd and random assortment of facts that serve no great purpose, with no bearing on daily life. They are things I learned in the process of having an affair.
For example, I am now a bit of an expert on the subject of Bipolar 1 Disorder. That’s funny considering I am not bipolar. Nor are members of my family, or any of my friends. But as you’ve read here, the woman I was involved was diagnosed with bipolar disorder soon after our affair. Naturally, I learned all I could on the subject, thinking it would explain her behavior toward me. It did not.
But in the process, I learned that Bipolar 1 is the worst in its class. A not-too-distant relative of psychosis. The highs are too high, and the lows are –well– “six feet under,” to hear sufferers describe it. It’s a living hell that can only be remedied with a powerful daily regiment of drugs. Unfortunately, there are side-effects to these drugs. Weight-gain, hair-loss and a constant feeling of…not feeling.
If you had asked me about Bipolar 1 two years ago, my answer would have been, “Fuck if I know.”
I can also name the two main types of extramarital affairs: “sexual” and “emotional.” (Who knew this shit?) And I’ve learned from experience that if you’re going to have an affair (which I strongly advise against), opt for the sexual. It’s bound to hurt less.
Now let me tell you about my newly-acquired expertise in the field of psychology, from the patient perspective. I have now “sat on the couch” more than a dozen times, just like you see in TV shows. But unlike television, psychologists, I’ve found, herd people through their offices like cattle. They see so many patients that when you first walk in, that fake-look of sympathy from their last appointment is still glued to their faces. I also learned that psychologists, for all their education, have no idea how to fix your problems. By the time you leave and drive off in your car, you realize you’re the one who did all the talking. They just sat there, nodding in agreement, while the woman down the hall was on the phone with your HMO.
Okay, that last example wasn’t a fact. But when have you known me to withhold opinion? Here are some things I know are fact, and I’m well-versed in each subject:
- Advanced computer techniques with a focus on stealth
- Laws pertaining to harassment and stalking
- Divorce laws
- Attorneys fees
- The current nightly-rates of fleabag hotels.
Questions? Feel free to ask.
Oh, and call me Bob.