The Non-Expert
Weak in Review
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week ROSECRANS BALDWIN helps a reader who’s already having a hard time sticking to his New Year’s resolution.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- First Scary Movies (Of Recent Note)
- Beloved Children's Books (Of Recent Note)
- Superpowers, Revealed (Of Recent Note)
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- Frugal Krueger (October 23, 2009)
- Colonel Muammar Gaddafi Has a Cold (October 9, 2009)
- How to Become a Playwright (August 28, 2009)
Also in The Non-Expert
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Have a question? Need some advice? Ignored by everyone else? Send us your questions via email. The Non-Expert handles all subjects and is updated on Fridays, and is written by a member of The Morning News staff.
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Question: dear non expert i resolved to quit smoking on new year’s and i bought a pack last night and then threw it away but i bought another one do you know how to quit smoking. —Jon
Answer:
“I’m quitting,” I tell my wife. For a moment I wonder if she can hear me with all the kids screaming in the background. “I mean it this time,” I shout and hang up. Already I feel like a new man.
Amy calls me back to bed, but I see through that one right away. Resolutions require resolve, and I’m nothing if not a hard worker. I spend the day in a different hotel room, drawing up my resolution list:
I remember the sound of my children shrieking and book the room for a week. No way will I get a good start on this resolution without some peace and quiet.
So no more of that! Thinking this through I immediately feel better. Which is what resolutions are all about: self-improvement.
The boss has assigned me a new assistant, a young woman named Shelley. She’s different, certainly different from my wife. An alternative girl, like you see on MTV. Shelley’s got that I’ve-got-a-secret look. I wonder, maybe because she’s a lesbian? Note: Ask her sometime what lesbian feels like.
(“Choice” is a big deal for women. I can be very “pro-choice” if that will make her happy.)
I almost didn’t cheat today, but then, I almost didn’t discover Shelley’s secret. And what if, instead of having a nipple ring, she was a psychopath who kills her bosses? Where would my wife be then? Would she really want our children to be fatherless? I’m positive she’s got a bigger heart than that.
Tomorrow I vow not to cheat. Shelley says she’ll help me, which is what a good assistant should say. I lucked out with her, no question.
Truth be told, I’m a bit miffed all day. That my wife tape-recorded what I said on the phone and then gave a copy to each of the kids—Shelley agrees it wasn’t polite. Then she blows me before I give a big presentation to the boss, which is kind of cheating, but is also kind of work-related.
Note: cancels each other out?
I’m still depressed when I return to the hotel. Then the cheeseburger I order is missing its pickle. Like I really need this, after a day like today! I upbraid Gabriella, and maybe I spank her too, or maybe it’s just a pat, like an Italian brother would pat his sister if the linens were brought in wet?
I dream about my wife. Then I dream about a three-headed fox, which cracks me up. The brain is truly a mystery.
At the core of every resolution is happiness, I think. People resolve to quit smoking, i.e., they will be happier for living longer; People resolve to exercise more, i.e., they will feel better about themselves by losing weight.
The point is, no one resolves to feel worse, but hey, look at me! Zero ounces of cheating all day and I’m bummed out!
I know I should feel great, and when midnight comes, and I’ve spent the whole day avoiding cheating, not cheating, just saying no to cheating at all turns, I open a beer and kick my feet up on the table—and I just don’t feel good. I feel bad, which is not one of the feelings I anticipated. No chills and thrills, no Superbowl shuffle. Where’s the euphoria of resolution? Where’s the fulfillment?
I call my wife with the good news about not cheating, but for some reason the phone line’s disconnected. Then the hotel manager calls, asking if I “felt up” one of his employees. Needless to say, no fox dreams.
Note: Tell wife tomorrow to fix the phone.
So I can proudly say, I will never again cheat on my wife. Because today she served me divorce papers. Or, more correctly, her attorney served them to me, some lawyer I hadn’t met before. Her name is Jennifer, her card said, neglecting to point out she’s a leggy brunette with a cracker-jack rack.
But see? I can barely maintain interest. When she walks out I don’t even try to grope her goodbye. I’m lost, cast adrift. Not even a nipple ring can save me. Do you know the story of Job? Because it’s plain as day: Resolutions, when finally fulfilled, disappear. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. You can’t not do something you don’t do anyway, and without my resolution I’ve dried up. I need some resolutions bad. Maybe I won’t cheat this year—on my taxes.
I am already looking forward to the next New Year’s Eve.
Question: dear non expert i resolved to quit smoking on new year’s and i bought a pack last night and then threw it away but i bought another one do you know how to quit smoking. —Jon
Answer:
Sunday, Jan. 1
As my New Year’s resolution I’m going to stop cheating on my wife. It’s tough on both of us. In fact, it’s kind of a downer. I’ve really been in the dumps this year, and I blame cheating.“I’m quitting,” I tell my wife. For a moment I wonder if she can hear me with all the kids screaming in the background. “I mean it this time,” I shout and hang up. Already I feel like a new man.
Amy calls me back to bed, but I see through that one right away. Resolutions require resolve, and I’m nothing if not a hard worker. I spend the day in a different hotel room, drawing up my resolution list:
1. Quit cheatingThe hotel isn’t bad. They do a great cheeseburger. The room-service woman says her name is Gabriella. “Gabriella,” I whisper to myself after she’s left; it’s the kind of name that makes me think of summer, maybe of Tuscany, of tan Italian women drying linens outside in the breeze.
I remember the sound of my children shrieking and book the room for a week. No way will I get a good start on this resolution without some peace and quiet.
Monday, Jan. 2
No one cheats and gets away with it, but that’s never been my problem. I’ve always been honest with my wife. When she caught me with Vanessa, did I pretend Vanessa was my doctor, making house calls? (She is my doctor, but she does not make house calls.) No, I took responsibility, and I was a wreck, for nearly an hour, as is right.So no more of that! Thinking this through I immediately feel better. Which is what resolutions are all about: self-improvement.
The boss has assigned me a new assistant, a young woman named Shelley. She’s different, certainly different from my wife. An alternative girl, like you see on MTV. Shelley’s got that I’ve-got-a-secret look. I wonder, maybe because she’s a lesbian? Note: Ask her sometime what lesbian feels like.
Tuesday, Jan. 3
In the morning I’m not feeling so hot. I get to musing: Are there other options? What if I give my wife a line-veto and supply her with headshots? Perhaps she’s so t’d off because she lacks a choice in my affairs?(“Choice” is a big deal for women. I can be very “pro-choice” if that will make her happy.)
I almost didn’t cheat today, but then, I almost didn’t discover Shelley’s secret. And what if, instead of having a nipple ring, she was a psychopath who kills her bosses? Where would my wife be then? Would she really want our children to be fatherless? I’m positive she’s got a bigger heart than that.
Tomorrow I vow not to cheat. Shelley says she’ll help me, which is what a good assistant should say. I lucked out with her, no question.
Wednesday, Jan. 4
Man is feeble. He is tempt-able. That’s either from the Bible or not, but if human nature—man’s nature—is inscribed down to a genetic level to be weak, who am I to protest? Insulting God was not one of my New Year’s resolutions, nor would it ever be.Truth be told, I’m a bit miffed all day. That my wife tape-recorded what I said on the phone and then gave a copy to each of the kids—Shelley agrees it wasn’t polite. Then she blows me before I give a big presentation to the boss, which is kind of cheating, but is also kind of work-related.
Note: cancels each other out?
I’m still depressed when I return to the hotel. Then the cheeseburger I order is missing its pickle. Like I really need this, after a day like today! I upbraid Gabriella, and maybe I spank her too, or maybe it’s just a pat, like an Italian brother would pat his sister if the linens were brought in wet?
I dream about my wife. Then I dream about a three-headed fox, which cracks me up. The brain is truly a mystery.
Thursday, Jan. 5
After lunch I have my annual physical. It does not go so great. Vanessa says she’s heard the tape, or a version of it. She says my family—excuse me, the woman I married and her offspring—stopped by earlier and sang it a-cappella in the waiting room.At the core of every resolution is happiness, I think. People resolve to quit smoking, i.e., they will be happier for living longer; People resolve to exercise more, i.e., they will feel better about themselves by losing weight.
The point is, no one resolves to feel worse, but hey, look at me! Zero ounces of cheating all day and I’m bummed out!
I know I should feel great, and when midnight comes, and I’ve spent the whole day avoiding cheating, not cheating, just saying no to cheating at all turns, I open a beer and kick my feet up on the table—and I just don’t feel good. I feel bad, which is not one of the feelings I anticipated. No chills and thrills, no Superbowl shuffle. Where’s the euphoria of resolution? Where’s the fulfillment?
I call my wife with the good news about not cheating, but for some reason the phone line’s disconnected. Then the hotel manager calls, asking if I “felt up” one of his employees. Needless to say, no fox dreams.
Note: Tell wife tomorrow to fix the phone.
Friday, Jan. 6
Not cheating is a lot like dieting: in one case you decide to cut down on the very thing your body needs to remain alive, the nutrients our lives are blessed by, all because someone told you your behavior isn’t “becoming,” isn’t the societal norm; and in the other case, you’re eating less to lose weight. The point is, both are pure misery, like life, which probably isn’t in the Bible but neither is “I hate you, bitch.”So I can proudly say, I will never again cheat on my wife. Because today she served me divorce papers. Or, more correctly, her attorney served them to me, some lawyer I hadn’t met before. Her name is Jennifer, her card said, neglecting to point out she’s a leggy brunette with a cracker-jack rack.
But see? I can barely maintain interest. When she walks out I don’t even try to grope her goodbye. I’m lost, cast adrift. Not even a nipple ring can save me. Do you know the story of Job? Because it’s plain as day: Resolutions, when finally fulfilled, disappear. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. You can’t not do something you don’t do anyway, and without my resolution I’ve dried up. I need some resolutions bad. Maybe I won’t cheat this year—on my taxes.
I am already looking forward to the next New Year’s Eve.
—Published January 6, 2006
