Girls confuse me. I don’t understand them. I’ve never understood them. There are times when I totally thought I understood girls, but with the benefit of hindsight, I now realize I have never understood one. Not once. Ever. Every time a girl, especially one I have been in a relationship has said something and then said, “Do you understand?” I have dutifully nodded my head and used the information I thought I understood very clearly and then gone and done the exact wrong thing. I’m pretty sure Lena Dunham’s “Girls” will lead me down this very worn path once again.

I didn’t have HBO when “Girls” premiered, but I heard it was good and love Judd Apatow so I decided to give it a chance. Ok, as long as we’re being honest here, I heard it was good and there was nudity, so I decided to give it a chance. What can I say, boobies are nice. Since watching the pilot, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s gotten under my skin, infected me and won’t let me have one fucking minute to myself to think about anything else.

After the pilot, I mainlined the next 5 episodes and have come to the conclusion that this show is going to fuck with my emotions in a way that only a girl can fuck with a boys emotions. As it is, I already feel guilty watching it. I only watch it when my girlfriend is at work, sitting there alone, enjoying the moments I spend with it. But then it ends and all I am left with is my shame. Why do I feel shame?! I dont’ know, but I do.

“Girls” is amazing. I think Lena Dunham is a spectacular writer. It’s funny. It’s sad. It’s fucked up and it is almost never sexy. I think Dunham is a pretty woman, but it feels like every scene where there might be a sexy moment, is shot like the dugout scene in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” I can almost hear the Jackson Browne playing and see ‘Surf Nazi’s” scrawled on the wall somewhere. All the sex in “Girls” is sad, but not depressing sad. Not funny sad. Not depressing sad… is naive sad a thing? It’s all very insecure. And believe you me, I know insecure sex when I see it. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex where I didn’t feel like I was doing something wrong and that the other person secretly hated me. Watching Lena Dunham’s Hanna go through the motions of something that most movies and tv shows teach us is something beautiful, sexy and fun in a way that is anything but, is remarkably refreshing and unnerving. Also, the Googling of possible STD’s is something I’m sure everybody in the age of the internet who also benefited from public school Sex-Ed is familiar with. Dunham’s performance is amazing and frankly, it’s fucking my shit up. Most of the time, I just want to give her a hug and make her watch the “It Gets Better” ads. Though, that might be a lie, because who knows if it does get better or if some people are just doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again no matter how many times they tell themselves that this time will be different and that they are now older and wiser when more often than not, they’re just older.

The only thing about the show that pisses me off are the guys. So far, and I know it’s only been five episodes, I want to murder every guy on the show except for Hanna’s dad. Hanna’s dad, played by “Bosom Buddies’” Peter Scolari (and his ear stud) is really the only likable male character on the show. Hanna’s not-boyfriend Adam is the biggest douchebag on the plant. I just want to punch that guys face till my hand hurts and then kick him for about a half hour longer. He’s so precious and pretentious and he says things that reminds me of shit I said at that age and that fucking pisses me off even more. Saying things like “working with wood just feels more real” or basically anytime he sighs I want him to just die of the most painful kind of rectal cancers. I get what she are going for with this guy and I’m sure there are guys out there like him but he is seriously more hate-able than racist cilantro. Give me something to cling too with him. Something that makes me say, “Oh THAT’S why she keeps coming back.” Does he have a huge dick? I don’t know but it doesn’t even seem like the sex is that good. It just seems like he is there and that’s why she is there and nobody would have sex with somebody just because….fuck. Really? REALLY LENA DUNHAM???? Ok, I get it now. And now I am even more sad. Thanks a fucking lot.

The only other notable guy is Hanna’s roommates boyfriend Charlie. And Charlie is the stereotypical nice guy. He makes her a table like one they saw at Restoration Hardware. He has awesome semi-secret woodworking skills. He’s in a shitty band. He is in touch with his emotions and talks about his feelings. He questions the deployment of doggystyle. He is everything and that makes him nothing. Which might be why his girlfriend is so unhappy. Shit. It’s happening again. The more I think about this shit, the more it makes sense and the more I want to cry.

All Charlie wants to keep the girl. Getting her was the easy part. It’s keeping her, that’s the doozy. I want to feel bad for him, but he’s been playing out of his league for long enough. Charlie is proof positive that what women say they want and what they actually want are two very different things. And for some women they are parallel lines. Adam is the asshole they date out of lack of options. Charlie is the guy women say they want, but don’t really want. What all women really want is Don Draper, right? The new one who knows who he is and doesn’t give a fuck but also has a sweet side under about sixteen ounces of bourbon. Or is that just what all guys think women want? Who fucking knows.

I’m going to keep watching alone and guessing and being wrong. Maybe I don’t want to watch this with my girlfriend because I don’t want her to ruin my illusion that this is all real. What if she watches an episode of “Girls” like a Detective watches an episode of “Law & Order” and just picks it apart and calls bullshit. Then what will I be left with? Because when it comes right down to it, all the paragraph’s before this one are full of assumptions about what I think women are thinking and I stated before… I have not the clue what any girl anywhere was, is or will be thinking. I dont understand girls but I do love “Girls.”

Found this one in a binder near the others. Not sure if it is from high school or just after, but it is still terrible. Also, it proves, that no matter how hard I try to write something nice, I end of making it retarded. Even good poetry is terrible, mine is a fuckin holocaust. Without further adieu….

Untitled St Jacques Poem cira 2000

When you come over
I get excited
You walk through the door
I am delighted

We’ll sit on my couch
and mess around
Both of us know
what’s bout to go down.

I kiss you neck
You’ll lick my back
I’ll fondle your boobies
You’ll caress my sack

Unhook your bra
Take down my zipper
Pretend I’m a dolphin
take my love flipper.

Behold a shotgun of cock
It’s on the attack
You’ll go into shock
(When it) bursts through your back.

Here’s what I learned about myself from 10 years ago - 1) I don’t understand meter. 2) I’m surprised I ever got a lady to touch me. I really need to send out some thank you/apology notes.

I wrote after work one night. While reading it, keep in mind that I, at the time, worked at a Hollywood Video. I’m not sure if it was meant to be a poem, but it reads like one now.

Untitled St Jacques Poem from 2000

Found a used pregnancy test in the bathroom at work
It was positive.
It was sitting in a pile of wet tissues.
Don’t know if they were wet because of excess piss,
Or tears.
Both are salty.

Found a notepad with a couple poems I wrote in high school. Probably after a breakup. I don’t remember writing them. But I am pretty sure they are about a girl. Neither had titles.

Untitled St Jacques Poem from 1997-2000 era

We laughed together
We watched the sunrise
We took baths together ¹
We ate some cheese fries

But that is gone now
Yes, that is over
I’ll say so long now
And I’m sorry
that…
You’re a fuckin’ bitch.