I show affection in odd ways.
I am not overly adept at telling people I care about them in the traditional sense. Instead, I tend to develop odd little rituals or codes or whatever with people who are close to me.*
My buddy Johnny and I always end our conversations with a very quick, very stoic “iloveyougoodbye.” Although it sounds like a robotic send off, it’s our special little way of telling each other how much we really do lurve one another.
My immaculately bearded work husband, Ryan and I used to have a running gag of sorts wherein I would offer him hugs and he would always decline, except for when we were going to part ways for an extended period of time. To this day I’m fairly certain I’ve only received half-a-dozen hugs from that cat.
My Jebusy-looking pal, Jebus and I show our affection by constantly telling each other how much we despise one another. I tell him that I hate him and his stupid face and he insults my taste in music and poor wardrobe decisions. It’s a win-win.
Today’s story, however, revolves around my occasionally bearded amigo, (The) Peter Norman.
TPN and I have developed an ongoing cycle of pure, unadulterated violence and rage. One of us will tell the other we can’t go out for a beer after work and the other will flip his shit. We have attempted to flip many-a-table in our day as a result of the aforementioned rage.
The most amusing aspect, however, is the violence part of the equation, as it is constantly evolving.
It began with me teaching TPN all about the wondrous joy that is, the superkick.
Y’all may recall that I was a professional wrestling fan as a kid and I am still a bit of a wrestling fan. I know…I know…but hear me out…one of my favorite moves of all-time is the superkick (aka: Sweet Chin Music) as performed by Shawn Michaels.
For those not in the know, here is a quick sample:
Yeah…long-story-short, it’s a big ole kick to the face.
The key to the superkick, however, is in the pre-attack theatrics. As evidenced in the video, the superkick is pre-empted by the tapping of a foot. TPN and I have spent many a day at work sneaking up on another and quietly tapping our foot just enough to get the other’s attention just before unleashing a kick that lands mere inches from the other’s face.
This has since evolved into my use of the “Pimp Hand” when threatening to slap others in the face and that eventually evolved into TPN’s “Pimp Elbow” which, undoubtedly trumps any hand, be it pimpy or not.
Anyway…so the superkick.
I was walking to work on Friday morning, minding my own business and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone—who looked sorta like TPN in my peripheral vision—step out of the parking ramp.
I then heard the all-too-familiar “tap-tap-tap” noise as this person was stomping their foot right behind me.
I assumed that it was Peter waiting to get the drop on me with a killer superkick, so I did what any levelheaded person would do…I swiveled around and hit a perfect superkick that stopped about one centimeter in front of his nose.
The problem is…it wasn’t Peter. Like, not even a little bit, not even at all.
It was just some random guy who was wearing glasses and happened to be about TPN’s height. As one might expect, he was freaked out of his mind. Feeling embarrassed I did what any respectable adult would do…I giggled and then scurried away.
Perhaps this is the universe’s way of telling me it is high time I learned how to tell people I care about them in less psychotic ways?!
Or maybe it is a sign that I should just superkick people at will and see how long it takes me to win control of MIT’s campus.
I’ll let y’all decide in the comments section, personally, I think it’s the latter.
* The lone exception to this rule is probably Grace. I have no problem showering her with lavish praise and lovey dovey compliments.