Am Not

It's later than I'd like it to be as I start this, but it's not for the usual reasons. Tonight dozens of women went unstalked on Facebook because Little League Baseball season is upon us again. Yes, the rite of almost-spring, where young men take up the historical mantle of America's Least Exciting Sport and parents are reminded once again about the crippling inconvenience of procreation.

It seems great in all the brochures with the cooing infants with oversized eyes and their jerky, floundering movements mimicking our own just enough to flatter our egos and induce us to laugh at them. That's how they get you to take one home, for the entertainment factor. We're not allowed to laugh at the developmentally disabled, unless it belongs to you and there's the possibility they'll grow out of it. It gets less funny when they can't manage a handclap by the third grade. Except to other third graders, who find this endlessly hilarious.

Which brings me to my main point. After watching 11 and 12 year old kids practice baseball for... um, I lost track of the exact time somewhere in there, but let's go ahead and call it for-fucking-ever... I've reached the point where I cannot conceive of any way in which 11 year old boys have any friend in other 11 year old boys. They are, all of them, assholes. Absolutely nothing to say to one another that isn't a wild haymaker aimed at the ole burgeoning sense of self-worth. The second line of every conversation, without exception, is an indictment of the first line of the conversation as the Stupidest and Most Obvious Thing Anyone Has Ever Dared Utter. Or a reference to testicles. But then the third line, definitely, will be the indictment of the thing, like I said.

Don't get me wrong, it could be worse. They could be girls. Nobody is walking off the baseball field with the seed of an eating disorder planted. But it's like watching hyenas circle around, not even cornered prey, just another hyena. One that's been wounded slightly. By speaking.

The stereotype of men as non-sharers probably has some validity to it, and not for the typical C-level comedian reason that, ho ho, who can speak when a woman won't shut up, am I right?! No, I think it's more akin to PTSD. But learned PTSD. Earned over years. If you know someone will challenge the entire validity of your existence because you had the audacity to plump for a disfavored Pokémon, imagine what would happen if a boy dared express something approaching an actual human emotion. How could it be less than bloody crucifixion?

It's been a while since I've been that age, but honestly, I'm surprised men grow up to be able to say anything at all. Women, if you can find one who can change out the brakes on your car and can drag you over Orgasm Ridge on a regular enough basis, I say count your blessings. If you're waiting for emotional nakedness to follow, you can only be disappointed. The best you can hope for is to find one who had no "friends" at age 11 to inflict the damage. But unless you're really, really into World of Warcraft, I doubt you'll hit it off.