Sunday, September 23, 2012

Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain


As we enter fall, where the days have less light and the weather slowly worsens, I am constantly on guard for morons (usually women) trying to tell me that they love the rain. That rain is romantic. That they love walking in it. That they love staying inside on rainy days (as if you couldn’t stay inside on a sunny day). Well this year, I’m not going to be a victim…
Rain as romance is a gimmick planted in people’s minds by romantic comedies, fake hipster curmudgeons, and “What Women Want” lists. Rain isn't the least bit romantic. I used to live in London, famous for its drizzle and fog, and I can tell you that after a few months of being pelted by rain the only thing I wanted to smooch was an exhaust pipe.

No one feels better in the rain. Not only is it a psychological downer; it afflicts you physically. That knee you twisted in pee-wee football? It’s fine in the summer. But let it start to pour a little: suddenly you’re limping and hating your dad for assuming that every fat kid is a born right tackle.
Doctors do not prescribe wet, gloomy climates for any ailment.

Depressed? Prescription: sunshine.
Arthritis? Prescription: sunshine.
Respiratory problems? Prescription: sunshine.
And winter isn’t much better. Sleet and cold are only sexy in the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" (the most lascivious song ever). In real life, cold and sleet is a formula for a night alone watching deadening Internet porn.
People have to invent “romantic” activities—sitting by the fireplace, etc.—to help them cope with the horrible effects of rain. Sunshine on the other hand is romantic in and of itself.  Hot, sunny weather means less clothing, which is a thousand times more romantic than the most form-fitting raincoat. It is amazing that soggy deathtraps like London and Seattle have sold the world on this notion of drizzly romance. I should get the head of Seattle tourism to revamp my Internet dating profile.
If women are allowed to say rain is romantic, men should be allowed to say that gangbangs are romantic. At least gangbangs encourage human interaction. Rain causes people to burrow away like anti-social rodents.

And if you do get "caught in the rain," that apparently romantic event, the first thing you do is DRY OFF. No one gets soaked and says, "Well, we both look like wet dogs...time to hop in the sack!" 
Any day you have to carry an umbrella is a day you should have stayed in bed. From now on I’m only staying in hotels called The Four Summers. The only rain I want to see is the kind Travis Bickle talked about: “Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.”

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