On those rare occasions when one pipes up with an opinion one has put some thought into, the result of a few idle hours of concentrated daydreaming, something on the whole a bit more meaningful
than your sandwich-preference at Pret, I’ve found that the manner in which people
respond to your waxing can be split up into six different character types.
*
The first type is the what
the fuck are you on about type.
The look your five year old might shoot
you when he clocks the topic of his bedtime story is fiscal policy in the
upcoming US elections, or the reaction to removing the Sky remote from the
clammy hands of some horizontal fool settling in for a Sky Sports News marathon. These people will never
get you. But they never professed to. You might never get them. They’re
harmless. You enjoy their company but you can’t really figure out why. For some
reason inside they make you feel warm and fuzzy.
The second type is the yeah
I kinda get you but I don’t really give a shit type.
These are the straight talkers,
they’ve got the decency not to blank you completely, but they’re not exactly on your
tip. They deem your philosophy to be pretty fucking far from the most important
thing on the agenda for that evening’s pale ale smackdown. They’re probably one of your oldest mates,
ones you made when you were twelve, ones you might not befriend as seamlessly now because you wouldn't have that much in common. They think you just as stupid as
you find them insensitive. But there’s no beef, you’re happy to be different. And they make you who you are.
The third is the but
that’s completely fucking obvious type.
They look at you as if you’ve
walked in the pub and announced on loudspeaker that you can spell ‘dog’ without fucking it up. And then fucked it up. They drink at the shallow end of
the sensitivity-pool. These cats are so intelligent they already know
everything you have to say. They like to turn discussions into arguments. They’re
not overly interested in asking you about yourself, but they do like to shoot you
down. They’re drowning in opinions, by far the cleverest guys in the room. So
clever in fact, they’ve mastered the art of making you feel stupid. These
people are the stupidest of all.
The fourth type is the do you really THINK so type.
The wide-eyed amazement type. The child in all of us. They make you feel like the cleverest people
in the world. Almost too clever. Almost Godly. The drawback is they leave you
with the sneaking suspicion that if you said the exact opposite, they’d react
in the same way. This is a pretty great way to be. Grown adults with the
open-mindedness of five year olds. I’d take this person over the previous three
any day of the freaking week. These people are heaven-sent.
*
The fifth type is the silent
serene nod of the head type.
No words. Perhaps not even any eye-contact.
Just a few imperceptible nods of the head, and the hint of a smile. An understanding. These people make you feel everything is going to be okay. They
make you feel like you belong at least somewhere. The people you could walk 56 miles along the hard-shoulder
to Brighton with. The people you talk to past closing time, the people with
whom you’d never think of pre-formulating conversation. The people you can be
silent with.
*
The funny thing is although none of the first four might have understood you the way you wanted them to, each of the first four will have someone who reacts to them like number five, like Mr Miyagi. Their number five. The guy lying on the sofa opposite when number one suggests getting a Dominos in during the Sky Sports News break, for example. Or the person staring back at number four in stunned silence with pupils the size of suns. Everyone has their Mr Miyagi. Everyone can find someone who agrees with them, even if they
don’t agree with you. Inhere lies the endless variety in people,
the spice of life. The reason you'll see someone in the corner you had absolutely no vibe with whatsoever, laughing their arse off to the point of KO with someone else you never had any vibe with. Thank God for that. Otherwise we might all be the same. The
sixth variety.
The sixth is... Tom Cruise.
I can’t really figure out who or what Tom Cruise is, but he
scares the shit out of me.
There's no communication there. At all. None.
... so those are pretty much my thoughts on the universe.
Did you hear what i said?
Did you really do all your own stunts in Mission Impossible 2?
What's with the scientology shit?
Did you love Nicole or was it all a cover-up?
Tom why do you never answer me?
Tom?
Tom?
No comments:
Post a Comment