Noah Cicero - Best Behavior

Trying to be romantic with a real live human woman is a lot harder than reading Wittgenstein or doing political statistics. If you can't understand a concept in Wittgenstein you can Google it or go the library. Political statistics consist of math and constants. There are answers without contingencies with an empirical basis. Dealing with people is a lot harder. You never fucking know what they are going to do. They're out there not being you. They are just like you though, they are configuring, applying logic, acting, contriving, and they are capable of lying or switching their mind. I kept getting the urge to kiss her though. She knew I was a weak person without confidence and she was going to have to do everything. It seemed like a game to her.

We got more drinks and took shots. Everything became easier.

We sat next to each other on the couch again. We sat close, like we were lovers, like we had known each other for years and we were going to make love. I kept looking at her face and feeling happy. I would look at her eyes and she would look at my eyes and somehow that meant sex. I could never figure out why eyes meant sex, but they do.

A guy came over and started talking about a zombie movie. He asked Petra to be in it. Petra said she had been in a zombie movie once. I said I had been in a killer space alien movie once. The guy said he loved zombies. Petra also said she loved zombies. I clapped and said I loved zombies. Everyone was bonding over zombies. The guy kept talking to Petra about the movie. I didn't have anyone to talk to. I looked around the room and there were people playing pool. They looked like people but hipper versions. I wondered if they liked Dave Eggers. I imagined Dave Eggers and Jonathan Safran Foer coming in the bar and ordering Captain and Cokes. Foer looked beat down because of the long term failure of his last book.

Dave Eggers said, “But it sold a lot; you should be happy.”

Foer responded, “But it only sold for like a year and half the reviewers said it was nonsense.”

Eggers responds, “What the fuck does that matter?”

Foer says looking sadly at his beer, “But I don't want to be known as that guy who wrote two really topical books because his agent suggested writing on those topics.”

Eggers responds without caring, “Seriously Jon you're like a pretty rich kid with connections and a good editor. How many pretty rich kid writers can you name who wrote books that transcended time?”

Foer rubbed his head, fixed his glasses and said, “Dostoevsky and Proust.”

“They were ugly. Try again.”

“Hmm, Albert Camus?”

“He was poor.”

“You have the same problem as I do.”

Dave Eggers responds politely, “No, I know my fate. I'm pretty and rich. I like to write. The world lets me write. I get lots of money and I can get laid easily. I'm not trying to be a great writer; I'm trying to live a great life.”

Some guy came over to me with tattoos and a bowler hat and said, “I hear you like zombies and you write. You think you can write me a zombie movie?”

“Zombies,” I said in monotone voice.

“Yeah, man, zombies. Like people are in a building and they are trapped with zombies.”

“How about a movie about 30 normal people trapped in a high school with machines and a million dollars.”

“Then what?”

“Then everyone kills each other for the money.”

“That would be dumb.”

“How about this, we call the movie State of Nature . The movie has a godlike creature who has a deal for humanity. The godlike creature has a resource that will allow everyone to drive and transport goods and grow more food than they ever dreamed of. But there's a catch after three generations the resource will run out and their entire civilization will collapse. Now it won't matter to them because they will be dead. But their great great grandchildren will die of starvation and violence because the resource will run out and all their motorized vehicles will stop running.”

“I don't think anyone would make that deal.”

“You don't think so?”

“No, of course not.”

“What about a movie about a zombie that can't find anybody to eat. Like he keeps running around and when he sees somebody, everyone else gets there first. And he is like standing by a gas station pump looking depressed. Then all the other zombies come over and make fun of him.”

“I wanna make the movie for like 2 million dollars,” he said.

“I really like movies with a lot of CGI. I like CGI giant snakes tearing down trees and killing massive amounts of civilians.”

“Oh, those are good,” he said.

“You should make a movie about The DOW. Like The DOW becomes a monster that grows to an immeasurable size and eats everyone's souls through the use of well-orchestrated marketing and mob mentality. Then The DOW gets killed because his favorite food is going into depletion.”

“Dude, that sounds great. We could probably get a big name actor for that.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Probably get like Michael Cera. Michael Cera loves to do movies like that.”

Petra came back over and said, “That guy said I could be in a zombie movie. I will have so many fan boys jerking off to my ass.”

Petra and I entered her apartment somewhat drunk. I didn't know what would happen. She had touched my knees and shoulders with her hands many times. I've hung out with women before who did the same thing and it ended in nothingness and despair.

We went in her bedroom. I sat on the bed with my feet on the wood floor. I took off my boots. She had never mentioned me sleeping on the small futon in the kitchen. She took off her shoes by the closet and sat down on the bed next to me.

I said, “Are we supposed to kiss now?”

She replied laughing, “I think so.”

“I know I want to kiss you, like I've been thinking about it, imagining it. But I'm not you, so I don't know if you want to kiss me.”

“I do want to kiss you,” she said looking at me in the face.

“I suppose we have to kiss each other then, like we have to move our faces very close together, so close they touch. Then we open our mouths and stick out our tongues.”

“Kissing is like a deal.”

“Kissing and fucking are very much like a deal or contract.”

We moved our faces close together. Our faces were close; they were inches apart. Her face touched mine. Our lips touched and we kissed. Every time I kiss someone for the first time, I compare them to everyone I've ever kissed. It goes back to my first kiss with Sarah Hill when I was 13 in her dining room. She was dressed in her band uniform holding her flute case in her left hand. That was my favorite kiss. Then it moves onto the woman I almost married and how she kissed roughly with mental illness. Then I remember bad kisses with girls who barely stuck their tongues out and women who bit my tongue and made me hate them for doing that.

Petra wasn't a bad kisser. When beginning to kiss someone, I always get nervous about what to touch with my hands. Should I touch her butt, tits, or arms? I chose to touch her butt with one hand and her back with the other. She seemed to enjoy that. She touched my back and ribs. I enjoyed that. It wasn't mad kissing like in the movies. We weren't estranged lovers that had found each other after years of tribulations. We were just two people trying to have a good time. Sex is about having a good time. A lot of people think sex is about being intimate. Sex is funny. Sex is smelly, loud, and funny. Intimacy is when you sit in the middle of the night with your lover and talk about embarrassing moments from your childhood you never say out loud. Or when you sit with your lover or friend who's sick for hours without ever thinking “this sucks” but being worried the whole time that your lover will be okay.