Tuesday, January 08, 2008

...about that Boy Next Door

I suck. I started a blog, posted twice and then took two years off. Which I can probably attribute to the fact that I finished grad school. And got a job. And a boy next door. Whatever that even means. The internet is a wealth of information (mostly useless retail crap, mind numbing games and good porn) so I turned to the Bible of the Internet, wikipedia, to see if this boy I love is of the "next door" variety.
Here's wiki's definition:

The boy next door is often invoked in American contexts to indicate wholesome, unassuming, or "average" masculinity.
Wholesome? He does love all things whole wheat and organic. I'm not sure what constitutes "average" masculinity, but for me it means he takes out the trash, lets me squeeze the feeling out of his arms on an airplane, and begrudgingly sits through an episode of the Hills.

He is a young man who is just discovering his physical and spiritual strengths, and still maintains an innocent wonder about them.
I'm pretty sure that he knows his physical strength, considering he just had surgery for tearing something in his shoulder while attempting to launch the cat. (FYI: Mr. Puss is affectionately the size of a tank). But as much as I love the guy, I am hesitant to use the word "innocent" to describe him. Even when its in reference to his sense of wonder.

The boy next door may have a sidekick who shows somewhat less promise than the boy next door; this will serve to heighten his appeal by contrast.
His sidekick is a cat. I would argue that Mr. P heightens his appeal the same way a cute puppy does for a random guy walking said dog down the street.

When the boy next door is a sidekick himself, he is often employed to contrast his fresh-faced innocence against the more world wise view of the protagonist. In this scenario, he will often do something well-intentioned but daring which puts him at risk, forcing the protagonist into a course of action to save him.
In this scenario, I am the protagonist.

He is the sweet boy the protagonist sees everyday, a really great friend, or the perfect boy to bring home to her parents.
Check. Check. Half-check (my siblings adore him and they're a much tougher crowd).

He is often a virgin.

In 1997, maybe

Obviously, he's not a certifiable "boy next door." But then again, I'm not a "window shopper." I have the credit card statements to prove it.
But I wouldn't have it any other way. That real boy next door sounds like a chump. And I'm too old to be breaking in virgins.

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