A long time ago, in one of the six or seven Antediluvian Ages of Ole Bald Angus the Monk, I told you about my brother's wife's brother's wife, the smoldering hot italian girl that follows me all around the family parties because she likes me a little too much.
And its not just her, its her daughter too, everywhere I go, there's this little girl looking at me with moony little kid crush eyes.
And everybody in my family is well aware of it, its actually the subject of a lot of in-house comedy, well, the little kid part, at least.
Needless to say, this is all very disconcerting for my brother's wife's brother, who was originally a guy that I'd describe as hilarious and light-hearted and witty, but has now become something of a mopey and miserable drunk, although he's still pretty hilarious and witty, even if I'm the only one that gets his jokes.
Yah, he still likes me just fine, he don't blame me for anything.
Well, I told you he was pretty damn cool, y'know.
But his mopey thing isn't making things better on the other fronts.
When I originally told you the story, the point I was after was to describe how being attractive can be bad for you.
Oh, I don't mean me being attractive, although I'm pretty damn fantastical, if I do sayso myself *rolls his one good eye*
I meant my brother's wife's brother's wife, who isn't invited to play any reindeer games.
See, I can joke with anybody else's wife about anything, stuff I can't even say on the internet because the internet is too innocent, and we all sit around the table laughing our asses off.
But as soon as my brother's wife's brother's wife shows up at the table, I suddenly have to go quiet.
My entire spirit sorta cringes with guilt when she catches on to the end of one of my dirty jokes, because she lights up in exactly the wrong way about it heh.
See, now maybe you can see exactly how everybody reads my mind ahaha.
Well, she is smoldering hot, man, there's no doubt about it.
And I frickin' love italians, because whatever else you might think about them as some kinda shitty stereotype, they really do love life.
Anyways, she's become a school teacher in the years since I last blabbered about her, so now she's a smoldering hot italian school teacher who loves how smart I am and wants to talk about all sorts of ancient history and stuff that only me and my stepdad know anything about, y'know, so holy shit this whole thing is just getting harder and harder and harder.
Yah, that's the latest evolution of the thing, the Hot For Teacher Stage heh.
Well, that's part of it, at least.
See, at first, I tried to avoid her, y'know.
But then I figgered that strategy was actually just sorta teasing her along and contributing to an Aura of Mystery or something.
I mean, there really isn't a lot of meat to me in Real Life, I'm about as simple as a dude can get, 'cause understanding yourself first is pretty much standard practice for anybody that likes to solve mysteries, just like a hunter needs to be able to go invisible and hold his breath, waiting for a shot, I need to be able to put all my own stuff aside and go motionless a lot, I need to turn to glass to do the ole Transparent Eye Trick, and you can't really do that if you are into carrying around a ton of fucking baggage and shit.
But the fantasies some people have of me (to fill in what they perceive as "the blanks," I guess) tends to be super complex and the source of much amazement on my part, although I don't actually hate it because at the same time their assumptions and suggestions tend to tell me a lot about where they came from and stuff.
So I decided that maybe it'd be better to let her get to know me, so she'd see exactly how sucky and crusty and crappy and non-fantastical and plain-vanilla I actually am.
And so now I actually actively try to ruin her fantasy of me on a continuous basis, taking it apart brick by everloving brick.
And that might not seem like much to you, but that's exactly the opposite of all my programming, its exhausting, I'm like a guy slowly tearing himself apart limb by limb.
You know what I'm talking about, sometimes somebody will say something nice about you, but it isn't exactly accurate or correct, y'know, there's a fudge factor that is working in your favor.
And you don't correct them, heck, they don't really wanna hear you correct them anyways, they wanna like you that way, so you just sorta bask in the glow of it, right?
Even though you know you are cheating a little?
But I am correcting all those things, and lemme tell you, it sucks some serious ass and I highly don't recommend it unless its some kinda absolute necessity and last resort type thing heh.
Yah, this is the real reason why I'm getting so exhausted at all these family functions, I mean, if this was a movie, we would've been sitting there, waiting for two people, standing very close to each other, talking all soft and intelligent and super perceptive, to explode into a savage frenzy of sensuality and rip each other's clothes off, for like two years now.
I'm all for suspense but that's way the hell too much tension to put anybody through ahaha.
Anyways, that's just another element of this Latest Evolution of the Thing.
See, on another level, I'm actually trying to help my brother's wife's brother fix his marriage so they'll stay together.
Because if they don't stay together, then I'll be in an awkward position that's an Order of Magnitude worse than the one I'm already in heh.
But I can't do that "help them with their marriage" thing out in the open, 'cause it'd make me look like an even better potential mate than she already sadly and mistakenly thinks I am.
Yah, just like that Hindsight is 20/20 thing, folks kibbitzing about somebody else's relationship isn't fair, 'cause if they were one of the people mired in the relationship, they'd be a lot more ignorant, it's that Transparent Eye Thing again, its easy to be Superman and see what's going on if you can step outside of a thing, but when yer smack dab in the middle of it with all the Pain-ware Wires re-attached, you turn back into a Regular Stupid Asshole Who Forgets Her Birthday and Shit heh.
But that's not the end of it, either.
See, in this Latest Evolution of the Thing, the last of the folks that raised her recently died or something, and now she's all over my parents, who are admittedly a lot like a contemporary version of Fairy Tale Storybook People With Magic Powers, after all the shit they been through.
Yah, inviting my mom to meet her family and shit, buttering up my stepdad by calling him smart and stuff (not that either of them are easy to flatter or anything, normally, if you are somebody outside the Tribe, but now she's got that whole smart school teacher shit going for her, too).
And my mom knows what's going on, 'cause she's the one that first warned me about this whole impending nightmare years and years and years ago, but she's getting goddam soft in her old age and I dunno if I can really count on her to Hannibal the Cannibal it right anymore heh.
Bah, whatever, after all this, you guys prolly think I'm in love with this woman or something, but I'm not.
I don't think I really even have the hots for her (although I am sorta afraid to put that to any kind of test heh).
Yah, see, first off, all this junk around the thing pretty much ruins it for me, big-time.
And second, I'm burned out permanent and hard on that shit, I had my one true love a long time ago, the girl that no other woman could ever compare to on any level for me, and in my case, it just wasn't meant to be a thing that lasted forever and ever.
Yep, even though she was goddam perfect in ways most folks probably can't even imagine 'cause they never thought that deeply about it and aren't any good in bed, her entire family was world-hating born-again religious lunatics, thought I was the devil, and I'd tear their fucking arms off before I'd ever let them touch anybody in my family, let alone my kids.
And there was no way for me to get around that.
And I know that that hard-coded shit in me would eventually tear the girl I loved apart, 'cause I'm all wise like that, even when I don't always want to be.
Love stories don't always work out good in the end, y'know.
Not in Real Life.
But this brother's wife's brother's wife thing has the makings of a pretty funny romantic comedy with just the right sprinkling of a little mope and sympathy innit heh.
Well, as long as I don't turn into a Bad Guy or some shit.
Which is easy enough fer me, 'cause I ain't one.
Well, okay, maybe I am a Bad Guy, but I won't give up the Big Laugh Feel Good Cheapass Saturday Night Live Comedian Movie Formula Ending I know it could have without throwing down a pretty decent fight that'll make y'all proud heh.