Monday, September 14, 2009

COLUMN: Objectum

Recently I became aware of the fact that I'm kind of a weirdo. Happily, as it turns out, there's always someone weirder out there.

This hasn't been the best month for me. To say that my fledgling relationship with the girlfriend has hit a bumpy patch is like saying that the economy has been a tad bit iffy. In the past month, we've split up and reconciled... oh, man, I've truly lost count now. 3 times? 4? All I know is that she's worth fighting for, and I'm not giving up on it yet, so hush.

But if the relationship's taken a toll on me, please take a moment to pity those most affected by all the drama: our Facebook friends.

If there's one thing I'm good at in life, it's milking sympathy from friends and family. So when we have one of these epic breakups, within hours I'm on Facebook updating my status to some kind of "woe is me" business while 20-30 friends send comments of support. But I've noticed that the comments lately have been a little less "I'm here for you, call me right away" and a little more "Dude. Again? Seriously." I'm wearing out the patience of Facebook Nation. I'm turning into The Boy Who Cried Break-Up.

But it was a Facebook post from a friend that made me realize just how un-weird I really am. The post was a link to a website about something I'd never heard of before: "Objectum-Sexuality."

Hmm, I can relate. Clearly, as a beloved and much-adored local writer, I spend most of my day-to-day time as a sexual object. Ladies, I can't help it that I'm so macho and dreamy. Trust me, it's as much torture for me as it is for you. But I vow one day women will respect me for more than my hot bod. Until then, I'll go to a website with empathy for sex objects.

But, it turns out, that's not what Objectum-Sexuality refers to. It's not so much to do with sex objects as it is with, umm, finding objects sexy.

Let's try to put it in layman's terms. You know the Centennial Bridge? It's a grand structure that serves as a centerpiece to the Quad Cities, a triumph of form and function that symbolizes community pride. It's fair to say that you might even one day pass its friendly visage and say, "Gee, I love this bridge."

Well, if you were an objectum-sexual, you might not love the bridge. You might loooooove the bridge. Objectum-Sexuality is an alleged orientation to love inanimate objects.

The internet home for Objectum-Sexuality was founded by a Swedish woman named Eija-Riitta Eklof. Eija loves the Berlin Wall. So much so, in fact, that in June of 1979, she married the Berlin Wall, complete with ceremony and taking the new name Eija-Riitta Berliner-Mauer. Yes, she is now Mrs. Berlin Wall. And no, I have no idea what their first dance as wall and wife were.

Through the internet, Mrs. Berlin Wall made acquaintance with Erika Naisho, or as she is now, Mrs. Erika Eiffel. Because she married the Eiffel Tower. Together, they host a network of websites to educate the rest of the world about what they have dubbed Objectum-Sexuality.

According to Mrs. Berlin Wall's website, they "love objects in an intimate way and this feeling is innate... objectum-sexuals feel a strong attraction towards objects possessing, in particular, certain geometry/function." Shockingly, it goes on to add that this attraction often "provokes criticism."

You don't say. I mean, just because you're married to a building and all? People might think you were a bit... odd?

I'm sounding a bit mean-spirited, I know. I don't get my jollies making fun of people, and as far as topics like gay marriage go, I'm an ardent supporter of "love whoever you want." Or is it "whoMever you want?" I never know. But I DO know that it's NOT "love WHATever you want." I'm all for your right to find happiness in the world. But when the object of your desire can't reciprocate the feeling because, oh, it's a WALL? That's a tough leap for even this liberal to make.

Modern psychology has yet to recognize or classify Objectum-Sexuality as either a disorder or a new sexual orientation, so for now it's simply a curiosity and a seriously weird website. But it leads to a few thoughts.

For one, how depressing would it be to be in love with the Berlin Wall? And how must she have felt when the Wall came down? Imagine the entire world cheering with jubilation at the thought of your husband being hacked into a million pieces? But, as it turns out, perhaps the Wall had it coming to it. Upon further investigation, I went to Erika Eiffel's homepage, wherein she admits, "It is also true that I have a longstanding relationship with the Berlin Wall. To my chagrin, this has drudged up criticism of my polyamorous relationship."

So what we're saying here, then, is that the Berlin Wall is nothing more than a cheating rat fink so-and-so, and if the Eiffel Tower ever catches wind of this, there's gonna be heck to pay.

There's part of me that feels really sympathetic towards these women. Clearly something's gone really wrong somewhere. And I dunno, maybe I KINDA understand? I mean, Wrigley Field is pretty sweet. And I don't know any NASCAR fan who doesn't have a SLIGHT fetish for Bristol Motor Speedway.

And I'd better not kid around, because the moment I do, karma will lead me to my unknown Objectum-Sexual self. But with MY luck, I won't be in love with anything as cool as the Eiffel Tower. No, I'll be the guy professing his undying love to a piece of Tupperware. Or a bath sponge. Or any of the random things in the litterbox, if not the litterbox itself.

So I'll shut up, To each their own, I guess. Just please don't be consummating your marriage on the day I decide to visit your betrothed landmark and we'll get along fine. After all, what do I know? I'm just a weirdo.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

She's madder than a March hare. What you apparently don't know is that she used to be Madame Guillotine and was "engaged" to Fressie, one of the guillotines in her museum. Suddenly, the guillotine site--complete with pictures of her with Fressie--disappeared, and she told the world that she was actually Madame Berliner-Mauer, that she had erased all memory of the Wall's destruction in 1989. The terrible memory returned, so since then she has engaged in "temporal displacement," existing in her mind only between 1961 and 1988. There's a tidy little following of Web morons who yammer on about how brave and free she is about being in love with or married to man-made things, instead of being sad that this poor woman doesn't get help. She could use it . . . if she isn't just the most diligent and dedicated hoaxer ever, that is.