Now, most of the time all I do is laugh at my buddy. I mean, he’s a loveable bear that never found the right woman, so he went into hibernation, sticking his middle finger out at the rest of us as he entered his cave, retreating from our world: he’s 6’0″ (probably 6’1″ in those old combat boots he won’t throw away), he weighs about 240 and has a full head of short spiky dark brown hair and a goatee with a little gray in it. He looks like a punk intellectual–which I personally think is a good look if he knew how to pull off the outfit; he has no real fashion sense except a love of fountain pens and pocket watches and long coats.

But he focuses on things lots of aging Gen-X’ers are dealing with: years of having no affordable healthcare, highly-dysfunctional (and aging) parents, a disappointment that the world didn’t go through a zombie apocalypse, and a penchant for turning into a kind of “angry old Henry Rollins” (“Get off my fucking yard you little malformed mutants and take all those copies of ‘The Watchtower’ and stick em up…”, well you get the idea; the old man persona taken on by Gen-X’ers entering middle age is NOT pretty).
I mean, I KNOW what kind of girl he needs: 34-44 years old, unconventional, artistic, maybe a librarian. A designer of some kind, maybe. A Eurotrash heiress. Someone who likes history (he reads crap like the history of the Borgias or Simon Schama’s ‘History of Britain’–that’s his version of porn), movies (err…film, sorry G), and writing. He’s a geek, but we all are. Let your geek flag fly my friends. He was 7 when Star Wars came out, and he never forgave his Dad for not taking him to see Alien when it came out a couple years later.

Oh, and he did manage to procreate: a 20-something who never listens to a damn thing his dad tries to tell him. He did manage to imbue in the kid some appreciation for music, but apparently the kid is getting into DJ electronica, which my man calls “pure shite” even though he was the creative force behind a Nine Inch Nails-‘kinda like’ band in the 90’s.
But I still laugh at him. I can’t help it. He lives with his brother, who I think spends a lot of time online and is maybe a DJ or a party planner or a long-haul truck driver. I can never remember. They hate each other. Oh, and he ALSO lives with the aforementioned son, who has kids, and is in the middle of a divorce with one of those twenty-something girls who thinks the hippies are the pinnacle of human evolution.
So WHAT’s so funny about any of that? Sounds kinda sad, right? Borderline pathetic.
Well, his kid has started dating some Gen-Z (or are they called Millennials? I’m not sure) girl, and ALL they do is eat, fuck, and take showers. My buddy grumbles about this. Sometimes he yells “Shut the fucking fucking off!” towards the other end of the house. Sometimes he pops a Xanax and tries to ignore it.
“It’s not working!” he wailed at me yesterday.
“WHAT isn’t working?”
“The drugs. The screaming. Living in this house. My God, I can’t take all this fucking fucking anymore!”
So I’m laughing so hard I pee a little bit. I mean, I know that he’s just jealous that his kid is getting WAY more than him.

“Well, you’re just an idiot,” he fires back.  “The name of our blog is XSEX. It MEANS the lack of sex, Generation-X sex–in other words, a sexual sociological study, and it sounds cool, too, I guess.”

“Maybe it’s X-SEX like sex so hardcore that it has to have an X before the SEX…like a warning.”

“They already have that, dumbass.  X and NC-17.  I don’t know if X is a valid rating anymore, though.  And XXX was just to sell porn.”


“I hate my life.”

“Listening to your kid have sex is that bad?”

“It’s fetid.  Like that movie ‘A Serbian Film’.  Just wrong.  I need a shower.  But I can’t TAKE a shower…wanna know WHY?”

I didn’t.

“BECAUSE THEY FUCK, FEED, and FLUSH.  Like some weird Japanese porn-toilet.  All they do is make food, have sex, and take showers.  I have got to meet someone.”

“AWESOME! It’s about time you got back on the wagon!”

“I’m hoping they might have a room.”