Monday, January 17, 2011

Hi, My Name Is Travis, And I'm A Social Rapist.

Admitting is the first step, right?

For the last few years, The Missus and I have been mostly slogging through life on our own. We haven't had a lot of friends, just one or two between us. Kid Funk was seriously one of the ONLY friends I had for a long time. It didn't bother either one of us that we had a lack of friendships, we were mostly okay with it, and we spent a lot of time watching TV and eating, which may or may not be partially responsible for the fact that I have my own gravitational pull.

However, we've recently joined a church and gotten involved in a Sunday School class, and we've made quite a few new friends. Good friends, really, ones that you could call in the middle of the night and they'd be there. Unless you call them about an orgy. For some reason, we haven't gotten a yes out of anyone for that yet.

Another thing that has happened in the last year is that I've started viewing life like it's a game of Sims. You know the game, incredibly lifelike characters go through mundane daily tasks, and you spend most of your time just trying to get the characters to do it, and when they do you try to watch even though it's blurred out. However. There is another aspect of the game that I can relate with. I've started viewing every social interaction I have with either a plus sign or a negative sign over the other person's head representing how the interaction went. I've taken the liberty of illustrating this.




There you go. You're all caught up. Fast forward to present day, actually a couple of nights ago, and put us in the house of some new friends who have invited us over for dinner. Great people, great food, and fun fellowship, which involves me telling stories. That's what I do. I tell stories. I told them about The Time The Missus Kicked Someone's Ass For Me, and I told them about Being On The Tyra Banks Show, and a few more. The hours passed in conversation. And they continued to pass, with me being oblivious of them.

I FREAKING TALK A LOT, OKAY?

So essentially, the time comes where The Missus almost literally has to DRAG me from their home. We get into the car, and the first thing she says is, "Geez Travis, don't you know when to leave, or are you too retarded?"

She loves me so.

I was shocked, and I was also concerned. Had I overstayed my welcome? I asked her that question, and she replied. "You ALWAYS overstay your welcome."

Color me astonished.

Apparently, I am a social rapist. I force myself into your home, and I force my conversation into you over and over again without invitation or consent, and I refuse to leave when it's over. I am very fortunate that this crime has not become as frowned upon as REAL rape, although The Missus sure made it sound every bit as bad. I think it was when she said, I think people would rather you rape them for real, Travis. I know I would, geez."

So I've moved on to re-evaluating my social skills. I've thought about starting a timer and only staying somewhere until it goes off. I've thought about doing things the Costanza way and leaving the second after I get a big laugh. I've also considered just never going anywhere again, and holing up here in the house with a fine, loving dog by my side. But I think I'd eventually grow concerned that I was socially raping the dog, and dogs are obligated by nature to wag their tails and try to jump on you when you talk to them. Wouldn't be fair to the dog, and I know it.

From here on out, if anyone of you ever invites me anywhere, please present me with a flowchart that explains how many stories are acceptable, which stories you have heard, the appropriate duration of said stories, the decibel level I should talk at, how many children are in the house, whether or not I can use words like "gay" or  "douchebag," how long I am allowed to stay, and whether or not you want me to use lube.

Cause I'm a social rapist y'all. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, hide yo husband, cause I'm tellin stories to urrone out there.

13 comments:

  1. LMBO. Travis hun I think you and I have the same bad habit. I say it is from the lack of social life. I have my computer and my mom.. speaking to actual adults for REAL can be somewhat overwhelming with the control that it can bring. We need a therapy group.

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  2. Apparently you just need friends who are more blunt and are willing to tell you "I've heard this story before. I'm tired. Shut up and go home."

    Or maybe that's acceptable to me because I'm a bitch. *shrug* :)

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  3. This was hilarious! It'll get better. I think it's just that when you finally get around people you like to hang out with, it's like a drink of water after a long time in the desert ... you know?

    And I TOTALLY get your Sims reference. For a while after I started playing, I would automatically imagine little plus signs, like, when my kids would hug me and stuff.

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  4. So. Um. I can only assume I was present on said night. And. I must confess Bill and I decided that I (BOLD font) was the socially awkward party!! I thought I noticed an awkward silence and wanted to let you both know you didn't need to stick around if you didn't want to! And, in doing that, made you feel you must leave! I think you were both out-tha-door in less than 2 minutes! I apologized to your missus for my awkwardness ayer. I hoped she'd pass that along to you. We enjoy you both and did not feel socially raped, as weird as that is to say! Repeat necessary... and soon!

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  5. I just need to know one thing - do you bring me a large bottle of Carolan's when you walk through the door?

    Because, if you do, you can stay as long as you want, talk as much and as loud as you want, and I will actively encourage you to swear.

    Saturday would be good for me.
    If you can't make it, send the Carolan's by courier, eh?

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  6. LOL!

    You hooked me with the word "rapist" in your title. I wonder if you are on some sex offender registry now?? At the very least, I think the FBI has tapped into your internet (however that works).

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  7. what? No Memoir Monday? And I already posted mine, *sob*.

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  8. BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN
    Why American men should boycott American women

    http://boycottamericanwomen.blogspot.com/

    I am an American man, and I have decided to boycott American women. In a nutshell, American women are the most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don't know how to cook or clean, don't want to have children, etc. Therefore, what intelligent man would want to get involved with American women?

    American women are generally immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste. The behavior of most American women is utterly disgusting, to say the least.

    This blog is my attempt to explain why I feel American women are inferior to foreign women (non-American women), and why American men should boycott American women, and date/marry only foreign (non-American) women.

    BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN!

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  9. I'm the opposite. I rarely say anything to strangers.

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  10. Hey brother, you know you can call me in the middle of the night, and I'll be there.

    Of course, it might not be until the next night.

    And you might have to offer to spring for the gas.

    But I'm so there.

    That's real.

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  11. Hmm... this is my first time over here and now I'm all concerned.

    But really, I think the bloggers will understand. We talk about ourselves so much that we had to start self publishing in case we forgot to tell everyone something while we were at their houses.

    Is all I'm saying. For now.

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  12. LMBO... Travis that was TOO FUNNY!! I was literly cracking up at work that people were looking at me funny. Anyways, I always thought that only happened to me and Randy. I always thought he didn't know when to leave. It's like he never wants the party to stop. Anyways, I'm sure Cristin and Bill enjoyed Alicia and your company.
    PS... Sometimes it's the other half that keeps you in check from speaking your mind. I know mine does.

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The price for my stories is your conversation.