Math: Hero or Evil?

I am not a fan of math. In fact, I don’t like it much at all. If you made a list of things I don’t like, you would have a very long list. And if it was in order of overwhelmingly hated to almost bearable, math would be near the top, along with bits of gristle in pastrami and thinking your ex is happier than you. As far as I’m concerned, math is the way the universe proves it doesn’t actually make any sense. Which is funny, because I hear math is how we make sense of the universe.

I haven’t always hated math. In fact, back in middle school it was like every other subject – incredibly easy and boring. I may have wanted to sleep through it, but that didn’t mean I hated it. I instead spent the time I should have been doing math drawing in-depth battles between TIE fighters and X-wings. (Like a true nerd, I know you must capitalize TIE. Ladies… I’m still single).

It was in high school that I learned to hate math. This is because in High School I suffered from a mental handicap known as “Self-Control Atrophy”… a debilitating disease that affects such high profile people as Bill Clinton and Tiger Woods. Math requires one actually learn the concrete principles, you can’t just extrapolate from chapter two when you get to chapter five. And unlike the English language, History, or anything that’s actually interesting, one is unlikely to pick up on Algebra or Pre-Calculus while putzing around on the internet.

So since 9^th grade I have had an extremely adversarial relationship with Math. Someone would say the word, and I would begin another tirade on the vile disgusting nature of Math. Never mind that, in its way, English is far more complicated and difficult to master (with its almost complete lack of concrete rules) than much Math. Or that when I actually bother to study, Math comes to me about as quick as anything else does. No, clearly it is the devil, and I refuse to believe otherwise.

Unfortunately, some schmuck decided that being a well rounded college student meant that I needed to demonstrate at least a facile grasp of linear equations. This is… yes, the worst idea anyone has ever tried to sell me. I have tried to convince everyone otherwise, but most people seem to think this is not, in fact, the worst thing ever.

An amazing thing has happened though. A truth has been uncovered. You see… around 9^th grade a magical thing happened. Puberty. At that time, my brain was flushed with hormones that not only made my naughty bits and arm pits grow hair, but also made finding a woman and making her happy basically my one over-riding goal in existence. I pursued it with literally reckless abandon. Which is to say I recklessly abandoned everything else in my life. Including me.

Now that I’m single, a horrible truth as emerged. I can do math. In fact, if I stop getting impatient for five minutes, I can do math pretty well. I learn it as quick as anything else I want to learn. It takes a little more patience, but that’s honestly because I’m out of practice. It is with this knowledge I posit my theory:

Women make me stupid as hell.

This is obviously wrong. But my bitter, shriveled husk of a heart wants to think it’s clever. Truly, like everything else, I have to make something a priority for me to perform at an acceptable level. It’s an ugly lesson, as I wanted to think I could skate by on raw talent and spend my time fawning over (and being fawned over in return by) a future wife. Instead I learn that things take work and I have to do what needs to get done before I can do what I’d like to get done.

It only took me twenty four years.