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This is why we can’t have nice chats: The lump in your pants is not my sexual educational opportunity.

May 6, 2010

excuse me sir, are those bunchy, rumpled slacks you're wearing?

Dear [name redacted]:

I get it. Discussing the fabulous ordinary whiteness of being as portrayed in Stillman films such as Last Days of Disco and Metropolitan is really hot. He creates fantastic, witty – albeit incredibly fatuous and pretentious – characters, giving them meaningful goals and interesting things to say. And I like what you said in terms of Stillman’s ability to put aside the snark in favor of crafting a substantial, sympathetic and realistic portrayal of a generally maligned group: yuppies (though often for highly understandable reasons). Your comments echoed those of reviewer Christopher Long of DVDTown who said:

Stillman isn´t here to mock. He had every chance to do it in “Metropolitan” with his privileged, self-absorbed young socialites who obsessed over literary criticism and televised debutante balls. But Stillman loved his characters not just despite but because of their foibles, and he treats his disco-loving drifters with the same gentle sensibility.

There was a lot of what I believed was appropriate passion in your voice as you quoted your favorite lines of dialog from the LDoD. That is until I glanced away from you face and noticed you were fumbling wildly with the lump rising in your rumpled and stained khaki pants. Okay, maybe fumbling wildly is a bit of an exaggeration, given that we were in Barnes & Noble, it was reasonably well lit and there were a few other patrons in our general area. That said, we can both agree you were conjuring up the contents of your boxer in a way that felt – well – problematic.

I’ll admit my share of the blame – as limited as it might be – because I am the kind of person starved for meaningful discourse about films. I have my mom and my boyfriend and that’s about it. Most people just don’t have the desire to go that deeply into the kind of films I enjoy viewing. Now this isn’t to suggest my tastes skew towards the obscure, the pretentious or the punishing; they don’t. But rather, I tend to regard every film I view as ripe for cultural deconstruction, even if it does happen to feature Harrison Ford in the lead role.

So while I’m willing to own my desire to dish film whenever I get a chance often causes me to vote against my own best interests, I’m just not willing to take on the responsibility for your wayward boner. That’s what that whole, “Motherfucker, please. Go bunch your slacks on someone who gives a shit!” business was all about. Yeah, I was kind of loud and indignant about it and I’m real sorry you were asked to leave the store before you were able to find some other fool to love you.

Okay, actually I’m not really sorry about that.

Now I’m really trying to get out of the telling business, but I feel I must give you this parting piece of unsolicited advice:

In the future if you’re talking to a gal who makes you go bunchy in the dockers region, and you’d rather not get cussed out in public (I could tell you didn’t much enjoy that one bit) or watch others get the attention you worked hard to cultivate, perhaps you might save your slack bunching for the privacy of your home, car or depending on your previous criminal record – a long subway ride.

I’m not here to judge, but oh c’mon. Seriously? Where exactly did you see this train headed? If you seriously did not realize the train was going to DERAIL, then consider it your painfully humiliating wake up call. Trust me, you got off easy – well technically you didn’t get off, ew, actually let’s not even go there. But I was a lot nicer to you because I was in a good mood and you had given me 3 minutes of non Skeevy Wonder time. I guess happy endings really are alike.

Well, maybe not for you.

Sincerely,

Snarky’s Machine.

PS: Nobody leans their dirty, bunchy trousers on Snarky’s Machine.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. evmaroon permalink
    May 6, 2010 3:18 pm

    I AM DYING. FWIW, I know of at least a few people as dedicated to movie analysis as you, and they would never be so distasteful regarding their joy at such a discussion. Uncreepy people are out there, I swear…

  2. May 6, 2010 3:58 pm

    Yay. That gives me hope, Ev. I am so tired of finding out the hard way some otherwise non bunchy pants person is in fact a bunchy pants person. I am great at reading people, but sometimes I let my desire to be more social (at appropriate times) get the better of me.

  3. hsofia permalink
    May 6, 2010 6:16 pm

    Wow. I’m really sorry that you experienced that. It would almost be unbelievable to me that there are douches of that magnitude just walking about, sans trench coat, like it’s 83,000 BCE, but I have just heard too many stories from women friends of mine. That is so not cool.

  4. May 6, 2010 8:08 pm

    Uncreepy people are out there, I swear…

    And an awful lot of the rest of us have learned to hide our creepitude. Or, like Snarky says, save it for the ride home.

  5. bumerry permalink
    May 7, 2010 4:32 pm

    I love to talk science, which like film crit is more or less banned by social convention. So when I find someone who actually 1] wants to talk about it, 2] speaks [or listens] competently, and 3] potentially will add to the tiny number of people I can
    have substantial real life conversations with, it’s exciting. Undeniably,
    sometimes it’s even laced with flirty vibes for me because I find the ability to carry on a great conversation (not intelligent, I know any number of very thoughtful and interesting conversationalists who have intellectual disabilities) rather sexy at times.

    But I don’t start masturbating obviously and publicly. See, that’s the key.

    Calling this ass-hat out in no uncertain times was a fucking PUBLIC SERVICE.

    So thanks.

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