Don Juan de la Nuce
Don Juan
Transcribed from GQ:
REMEMBER WHAT MATTERS
by Chuck Klosterman
As is so often the case, the best advice I ever received came from a drunken, bitter man with a patently ridiculous soul patch. It has been said that you are only as old as you feel, and-- if that is indeed true-- this 27 year-old surfer doofus was approximately 146. And what he taught me was this: You think it should matter, but it doesn't.
I was semi-madly in love with a woman who lived 800 miles away, in Minneapolis, and I'd heard a rumour that she had begun casually dating another man. This was predictably vexing, and I felt my only recourse was to go nuclear. Her birthday was Oct. 16th, and I suspected her new paramour might give her flowers. My plan was to send her two dozen long-stemmed roses; this way, even if the New Guy went for the jugular and gave her a dozen of his own, his gift would suddenly be dwarfed by the monolithic magnitude of my romantic gesture. So this is what I did. And the night before they arrived at her desk, I met this 146 year-old punk in a bar and asked him if he thought this move was brilliant or pathetic.
"Neither", he replied. "If she likes you, she'll think it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her; if she doesn't like you, it will totally freak her out. And if you had sent her nothing, that wouldn't matter, either. If she likes you, she'd find your indifference appealing and powerful; if she doesn't, your indifference would simply validate her belief that you're not the person she should be with. So give her everything or give her nothing. You think it should matter, but it doesn't.
REMEMBER WHAT MATTERS
by Chuck Klosterman
As is so often the case, the best advice I ever received came from a drunken, bitter man with a patently ridiculous soul patch. It has been said that you are only as old as you feel, and-- if that is indeed true-- this 27 year-old surfer doofus was approximately 146. And what he taught me was this: You think it should matter, but it doesn't.
I was semi-madly in love with a woman who lived 800 miles away, in Minneapolis, and I'd heard a rumour that she had begun casually dating another man. This was predictably vexing, and I felt my only recourse was to go nuclear. Her birthday was Oct. 16th, and I suspected her new paramour might give her flowers. My plan was to send her two dozen long-stemmed roses; this way, even if the New Guy went for the jugular and gave her a dozen of his own, his gift would suddenly be dwarfed by the monolithic magnitude of my romantic gesture. So this is what I did. And the night before they arrived at her desk, I met this 146 year-old punk in a bar and asked him if he thought this move was brilliant or pathetic.
"Neither", he replied. "If she likes you, she'll think it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her; if she doesn't like you, it will totally freak her out. And if you had sent her nothing, that wouldn't matter, either. If she likes you, she'd find your indifference appealing and powerful; if she doesn't, your indifference would simply validate her belief that you're not the person she should be with. So give her everything or give her nothing. You think it should matter, but it doesn't.