Brady C. Mallory

My inquisitive journalistic side made itself known at a very early age when I was merely a boy. I recall using our Austrian Shepherd mix, Heidi, as my guinea pig in an experiment that, though it went exactly as my young mind had planned, ended with me in tears. According to reliable sources, a four-year-old Brady went into the house crying claiming Heidi had bit him in the face. When interrogated, a bite-sized Brady had mentioned that he had bit Heidi first so she would bite him back. You see, friends, I knew this childhood K-9 friend of mine would respond to me in such a manner, and yet I did it anyway. Needless to say, the shock of teeth marks on my cheek taught me to never bite Heidi again.

As humans, we have tendencies to perform actions, despite knowing that calamitous reactions wait. Whether it is running on icy sidewalks, touching a hot stove or getting a perm, the dire consequences teach us to try something else. This revelation encompasses every behavior except for dating.

I have never understood dating, and I have often advocated against it. Personally I do not like dating, nor do I participate in it. I have made it through 21 successful years on my own, and I cannot think of one reason why I would tie myself down and answer to someone I do not consider relevant to my everyday life. This means, for me, no relationships, no marriage, no kids, no kidding. I like seeing people enter into healthy relationships, and if you, my reader, are in one; mazal tov. However, I know of several people who hate their relationships but continue to stay in them because repeatedly slamming your head into a brick wall must eventually feel good.

I had a friend who was publicly humiliated and in debt to the tune of $10,000 due to the nature of his girlfriend. Ironically, she was the one who left him.

Well, boys and girls, this unfortunately clueless young man is dating her again, which means hilarity will ensue, at least from my viewing point. Wouldn’t it just be easier to give Kevin Federline your ATM access code? Maybe America’s financial crisis can be attributed to individuals’ getting back together with their gold-digging partners.

Let it be known that I would swiftly blacklist anyone who took $5 from me, let alone $10,000. Call me old fashioned, but if a relationship does not work, you split up, perhaps klepto a few knick knacks and say disparaging things about each other behind the other one’s back. Sadly, it is the aforementioned statement clearly proves that I am the only romantic left in this chaotic world. Let me say this as delicately as I know how: if you are like my friend, and cannot know when to stop provoking the hound that is mauling you, you are stupid.

Perhaps a warm body makes up for collecting food stamps in order to avoid complete bankruptcy. I totally understand that we all get lonely and need a confidante to communicate with. When I need to have a good heart-to-heart, I simply turn to my life-sized cardboard cutout of Reba McEntire, and all my cares melt away.

I think that individuals of my generation largely misunderstand dating and use their significant other as a tool for status, rather than affection. In a way, we have been conditioned to feel shame over being single, thus becoming the enabler for unhealthy dating practices. My guy friends often refer to their special ladies as, “gf,” for girlfriend, rather than their names. One friend has been with his girlfriend for a year, and I still do not know her name. Conversely, I think my female comrades carry this personal mantra, “He may not know my name, and he may enjoy punching clowns now and again, but all that matters is that he watches The Notebook with me.” I do not mean to sound like a harsh, judgmental critic, but I am critically judging these people in a very harsh manner.

To put this all into tangible perspective, maybe we are no longer looking for someone to harmonize with, and we are instead looking for conflict and someone to post disgusting make out pictures on Facebook with.

We feed off of the pain in our dating relationships for a perverse type of sustenance, just as retired in-laws feed off of their children for financial support. My perspicacious nature tells me that we are all adrenaline junkies who feed off of reckless behaviors. If you are a participant in a disastrous union and are seeking to do something socially irresponsible, just simply go cow-tipping, or vote for John McCain next week.