Upsetting
Friday, November 08, 2002
 
Uncle Joey from “Full House,” it turns out, was not the guy Alanis Morissette was singing about in that famous song.

It was me. Women have always found me enigmatic and aloof, and often they've gotten quite pissed at me.
In fact, I wasn’t petrified of silence, like Alanis’d thought. I actually was at home in the quiet, at peace in the silence. It drove her crazy.

I told this to Ramona a couple of days after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, and she didn’t seem to not believe me. I described how Alanis would always show up at my apartment while I was in the middle of dinner, but that it wasn’t as dramatic as in the song. I was usually just eating take-out Thai food when she’d come in and scream, “I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner.”

“You’re not, I’m watching Monday Night Football.”

She’d then storm out – even though the TV wasn’t even on.

“How was she?” Ramona asked.
We were sitting in an apartment in Bankers Hill. It was that gloaming time, after day, before night. People were opening their mail with gloves on.

I thought of the times Alanis and I’d coupled. We were only together for about eight months.

“You know,” I told Ramona. “She was like you’d think she’d be. A weird combination of assertiveness and submission. Like those people who are so insecure that they’re hell-bent on acting as if they’re in total control.”

Ramona said, “Eww, yuck.”

“I know, she really made sex an overly self-conscious thing,” I said. “She would say a lot of fluffy things like ‘Do you desire me, Joseph,’ using my whole name and that. ‘I would like you to take me, Joseph. I need to receive you.’”

Ramona started laughing.
“Oh, Joseph,” she said. “You’re such a cad with this kissing and telling.”

“Hey, you asked. It’s not my m.o.”

The she asked me about the theater. Did Alanis do what she alluded to in the song?
Go down.

“Once, and rather clumsily,” I said. “But it’s kind of an awkward deal, so I give her credit for trying.”
 
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