Unrequited Love Syndrome

Dear Treasured Reader:

A few of the many spectacular things about being narcissistic and delusional are (1) the entire world thinks you are remarkable, (2) everyone wants to be your friend, and (3) no one can resist hanging onto your every word.  However, the burden of such notoriety is becoming the object of an onlooker’s overzealous fascination.  I had such a confrontation, many times.

I recall one suitor in particular.  He was a lead customer service supervisor at my local grocery.  He primarily floated in the area of the check-out lines, resolving customer issues and filling in for cashiers during their breaks.

Every time I walked in to do my shopping, there he was, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of me.  I cannot describe how soiled I felt as he continued to leer at me from afar.  I scurried towards the produce department and began my task.  As I passed the frozen foods and oral hygiene aisles I knew an uncomfortable exchange awaited me as I progressed towards the check-out.

Without fail, his check-out line was always the quickest moving.  My first inclination is to select an alternate queue; however, I will not have people staring at me, questioning amongst themselves, why I chose anything other than the shortest line.

Several times he opened an idle checkout line specifically for me.  Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to myself, I graciously accepted the offer and prepared myself for the mental disrobing I was about to endure.

He assaults me with a barrage of intimate questions like, “how is your day?”, “did you find everything you were looking for?”, and “do you have a customer loyalty card?”  And when I do pass to him my keys to scan my shopper rewards card he always tries to touch my hand.

On one occasion the credit card machine could not read the magnetic strip on my card.  After several failed attempts, he asked to see my card.  He proceeded to key the digits manually.  In retrospect, his actions became very clear; each time had I swiped my card he had coyly pressed the cancel button on his cash register to trigger a card error.  His ploy was for me to surrender my card to him so he could read the cardholder name and use that to his advantage.  I felt so, so violated.

During each subsequent journey to the grocery I listened carefully for him to call me by name.  He never did, because he was aware that would have proven his guilt.

Eventually he was promoted to a store on the opposite end of town.  Undoubtedly, he would contrive a way of being promoted again, returning to my neighborhood store.  Until then, I will be able to shop in peace.

That peace lasted about one year.  He had traversed the ranks of retail and had returned to continue his pursuit.  He is without shame.

My advice to you is to keep close your many admirers; however, keep closer the well-meaning sorts suffering from what I like to call Unrequited Love Syndrome, or ULS.  They are everywhere and they won’t take “no” for an answer.

The One Funny Polack Joke

Dear Treasured Reader:

When I was eleven years old I heard my very first polack joke from a fellow public school prodigy. It was something to the effect of why they do not eat M&M’s. Being a naïve and sheltered lad I inquired, “what’s a ‘polack’?” My query was dismissed with “it’s a stupid person. DUH!” I must admit, many of those jokes were quite humorous.

For the twenty years following, I understood polacks to be dimwitted Caucasians, because I could relate.

Eventually, I discovered “polack” was an insult for a Polish person. I had not had any exposure to any Poles therefore I could not comprehend how being Polish would make a person stupid by default. It was unrealistic to think such would try to peel an M&M candy or attempt to pour two quarts of water into a Kool-Aid packet. The jokes were no longer humorous to me; not because they were rude ethnic slurs, but rather because Polish people don’t appear stupid. 

I tried sharing this epiphany with my partner, Harry. Mind you, although Harry is a well-educated man, with dozen-plus years of university to his credit, English is not his first language. Occasionally, I need to explain cultural differences or elaborate on phases he has heard. I mentioned to Harry when I first heard a polack jokes I had no idea what a polack was. He inquired, “a polack? Isn’t that a dinner party where everyone brings food to share?” 

I love a good malapropism, and this one was a gem. The next time we are invited to attend a polack, I’ll prepare pierogis stuffed with sauerkraut and kiełbasa.

Hello, and Welcome

Dear Treasured Reader:

Thank you ever so much for visiting and reading the inaugural entry of what will become my internationally celebrated on-line memoir.  Within, I will share with you my most private thoughts and experiences.  I sense you need to know these things.  I hope I am able to inspire you and bring peace and comfort to your frenzied worlds. 

My pursuit for helping others began while I was reclining in that seal-skin Brookstone examination-massage chair, awaiting the results from my phrenologist’s assessment of my trans-lobel aura.  I had been blogging all things lifesaving and touching within that Justin Bieber documentary.  I had wept uncontrollably through the entire film, holding high my iPhone 7Gsx as if it was a Zippo and I was at the final performance of an REO Speedwagon farewell tour.

When Dr. Mark E. Desodd returned to the room he reminded me to get dressed and have a seat.  He had wielded his trusty calipers to measure the distance not only between the scar on the bridge of my nose and the scar in my eyebrow, but also the distance between a chicken pox scar and a beauty mark.  The resulting ratio has brought to light a critical assessment.  Dr. Desodd diagnosed me the comorbidity of adult onset narcissism and delusion.

I was absolutely relieved to know this condition had been identified.  Regretfully, there is a no cure; however, a lifetime of weekly treatments at Dr. Desodd’s clinic will provide some relief.  My prognosis is undeterminable.  However, I will persevere.

As I convalesce I will be thinking of all of you, missing me so sadly.

Thank you in advance for the many flowers, gifts, and well-wishes you will send my way.

I hope to hear from you soon.