My American Cousin

I'm going to start a series called "My American Cousin."

You know, after that flawless movie from the 1980s by Sandy Wilson.

Although I'm taking some liberties. As in, a lot of liberties. As in, I'm only really stealing the title because I like it, and my real American cousin isn't some hot blond guy in a tank top driving a red car that every Canadian girl dreams of having sex in.

My cousin is American. But yeah, the similarities between her and the movie end there.

I have very interesting conversations with my American Cousin. Most of them revolve around boys. Because she likes boys and I clearly like boys and that's about the only thing we have in common. Most of the time, our conversations end with me falling asleep because to be honest, I can only talk about boys for so long. Unless we're talking Vancouver Canucks hockey. I can talk about those particular boys forever.

My American Cousin though, she can pretty much talk her head off when it comes to men. I honestly do not know how she does it. She seems to find them perpetually interesting, and I can't keep up with her. So I figured I would record some of our conversations here, just to entertain you with my complete inability to talk about love, relationships and people in a positive manner (I am not cynical, I swear).

For example, my dear American Cousin told me today about a love at first sight moment that she experienced. She calls it providence. The man was handsome, athletic, sweet and most importantly, not a wuss. He is perfect, she says. He is perfect.

And this is what's going on in my mind the entire time.

I ONCE EXPERIENCED PROVIDENCE.

I ONCE EXPERIENCED PERFECT.

IT BIT ME IN THE ASS AND NEVER LOOKED BACK.

BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS?

PRETTIER GIRLS HAPPEN.

PRETTIER GIRLS GET IN THE WAY AND RUIN EVERYTHING.

AND YOU'RE LEFT FOREVER ALONE, BECAUSE THAT PERSON CHOSE HER INSTEAD.

Of course, I'm hoping that my American Cousin doesn't actually experience or feel any of this. In all essence, my American Cousin is very attractive, and in this kind of situation, she would be the prettier girl. Then while she raves about this amazing dude, my mind is going in a million different directions, and it looks a little like this:

LOVE CONQUERS ALL, THEY SAID.

LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL, THEY SAID.

NOBODY EVER SAID THAT IT WOULD ALL END WITH A SAD RENDITION OF JOSEPH ARTHUR'S "HONEY AND THE MOON."

NO ONE EVER SAID THAT.

You see what I mean about me being a pathetic, angry piece of shit? Good Lord, I don't know why I still have friends sometimes. I think it's because I mask my negativity very well. Like, I can be Tigger up front but I'm really Eeyore at heart. My poor American Cousin, she thinks that we're on the same page, when really, I'm taking everything she's experiencing (which is very positive and amazing) and applying it to my own shitty life. I'm like this guy.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this first edition of "My American Cousin," in which I talk about the positive conversations I have with my cousin that turn sour in my head because I am a depressed little robot.

I'm hoping though, that some of her providence will rub off on me. That one day maybe, just maybe, the way I feel on the inside matches the way I look on the outside.