2008 Woodie Awards
THE EROGENOUS ZONE: Playing the game
Brook Taylor
Issue date: 1/31/06 Section: Life
In the wake of my recent foray into the world of lady lovin', my life has once again been flooded with the insanity of romance. Familiar sensations and emotions have re-introduced themselves to me, and as always, it's been one hell of an eye-opener. Like most people out there with a special someone in mind, I generally have no idea what the hell I'm doing anymore. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm playing the game.
If I've learned anything from all the Queen and Elton John songs I listen to, it's that love is nothing more than a game, and we're all just a bunch of pieces on a board. I personally like to imagine the gods up on Mount Olympus gathered around a table, moving us around on a whim, just to see what happens. But even if you don't believe it's all up to fate, there's no denying the rules we all play by.
There are techniques we swear by for every single moment of every romantic interaction, from the initial hello to the (usually) inevitable breakup. We have to formulate something cool to say so the first impression we leave isn't blown all to hell, and then we calculate how long to wait before calling.
Assuming the first date went well, we analyze our feelings on everything and plan for another date. We group all sexual interactions into bases and try to space them out tastefully (who wants to come off as easy?). Quite early on, we start stressing about introducing them to our panel of judges (aka: the best friends that know what's good for us even when we don't). Then comes the title dilemma; just when exactly is it okay to call the person your boyfriend or girlfriend?
Even with our dating guidelines memorized, when we decide to invest in a new romantic interest, we're never really aware of what we're getting ourselves into. We can try to draw on past experiences and read the signs ahead of time, but when we get in the thick of it, we realize quickly that we're just flying by the seat of pants. Decisions are always spur-of-the-moment as we try our hardest not to mess things up with the potential love of our life (because who knows, right?). And of course, our friends are all fed up with hearing our too-deep analysis of anything and everything that happens.
If I've learned anything from all the Queen and Elton John songs I listen to, it's that love is nothing more than a game, and we're all just a bunch of pieces on a board. I personally like to imagine the gods up on Mount Olympus gathered around a table, moving us around on a whim, just to see what happens. But even if you don't believe it's all up to fate, there's no denying the rules we all play by.
There are techniques we swear by for every single moment of every romantic interaction, from the initial hello to the (usually) inevitable breakup. We have to formulate something cool to say so the first impression we leave isn't blown all to hell, and then we calculate how long to wait before calling.
Assuming the first date went well, we analyze our feelings on everything and plan for another date. We group all sexual interactions into bases and try to space them out tastefully (who wants to come off as easy?). Quite early on, we start stressing about introducing them to our panel of judges (aka: the best friends that know what's good for us even when we don't). Then comes the title dilemma; just when exactly is it okay to call the person your boyfriend or girlfriend?
Even with our dating guidelines memorized, when we decide to invest in a new romantic interest, we're never really aware of what we're getting ourselves into. We can try to draw on past experiences and read the signs ahead of time, but when we get in the thick of it, we realize quickly that we're just flying by the seat of pants. Decisions are always spur-of-the-moment as we try our hardest not to mess things up with the potential love of our life (because who knows, right?). And of course, our friends are all fed up with hearing our too-deep analysis of anything and everything that happens.
