The Bigfoot Obsession

I always picture my boyfriend being marketed on The Dating Game and there are always two pitches that I envision - both of which I like to think I would have fallen for. Number one was thankfully what I got: "Behind door number 1, Bachelor Number One! He's got a great job, can carry on a conversation with anyone and he has great taste in jewelry! Bachelor number ooooone!" Then there is the slightly less flattering but no less true version: "Behind door number 1, Bachelor number one! He leaves plastic in the oven and forgets to tell you about it before you preheat things, he will take a dump while you're taking a bath and he is obsessed with Bigfoot! Heeeeeee's bachelor number one!"

It wasn't until we moved in together that I realized he had this obsession and like all belated realizations about the ones you love, you try to ignore them. I thought nothing of our dinner date conversations about "Do you think Bigfoot exists?" and the like. I mean... that's normal. Right?

I've always been of the mind that if aliens or bigfoots (big...feet? feets?) exist that it's of no consequence to me. So they exist... and? Am I supposed to change anything about my day to day life? I'll probably live in MORE fear than I already do that something out there wants to probe my anus. But overall, it just doesn't pique my interest to think about it.

This brings up another point. I tend to shy away from the alien conversation because the conversation inevitably bends toward anal probing. I mean, if I'm in a dark alley, you'd better believe I'm thinking about it. But I secretly think that everyone who believes in aliens is under some sort of self-centered assumption that there is an entire race of being out there that exists just to probe your ass. And I'm not comfortable with that. Think about that on your own time. And why is it that that's what we think about with aliens. How full of yourself do you have to be to think that any other intelligent race out there must want to do nothing more on this earth than probe YOUR orifices and implant YOU with things. Get over yourself.

My boyfriend will stop what he's doing to watch a TV show about Bigfoot. When driving through woodsy areas he ruminates on what he would do if he found Bigfoot. It usually ends with:
"I'd totally kick him in the nuts."
"After hunting down an animal covered in fur... and much bigger than yourself?"
"Hell yeah."
"How would you get close enough?"
"Well, I mean... of course I'd have beef jerky with me."
"I'm emailing Jack Link's beef jerky to tell them that they're 'Messin' with Sasquatch' commercials are having a negative effect on youth. That's totally where you got that."
"Hey! I'm 24... and those commercials are hilarious..."

So, about a year ago, the boyfriend and his dad went fishing and were driving through a remote area on a road flanked by forest. To keep a long story short, they both saw in their rearview mirror a large very furry animal on two legs (that was NOT A BEAR!). It walked into the road, looked at them and then walked back into the woods. Evidently the two carried on driving for a while and then a few minutes later one mentioned the sighting to the other, who then agreed that it was TOTALLY Bigfoot. They had been of the chosen people. That meant they were duty-bound to sneak it into conversation as soon as they got home.

He recounted this story to me as soon as he got through the door and after presenting every rational alternative I could think of, I gave up. He would be impossible now. Now, when I would make shitty comments during his shows, he would give me the look of someone who is absolutely sure of what they were talking about. He would tell me, with certainty, that I was in denial and that he had seen proof of this thing and I WASN'T THERE so how would I KNOW. I was sunk. There was nothing I could do. I was not one of the chosen and I never would be because I'm not a "believer". It's occurring to me that Bigfoot sightings could turn into a religious cult initiation...

I didn't realize, however, that he would be inclined to tell other people about his encounter. To his credit, he does wait until someone brings up a related topic: aliens, dark forests, exceptionally hairy people, etc. In his latest storytelling bout, I caught him practically cornering my friend Kristen with the story after she had brought up the possibility of aliens. She seemed interested enough so I didn't try to call him off. I told her that it was kind of a compliment. When a dog likes you and trusts you, he lets you rub his stomach. If my boyfriend likes you and trusts you, he will tell you his Bigfoot story. "It's OK," I'll tell people who are making it obvious with their faces that they are going to lose sleep over his story "It just means he likes you."

I take it as a true testament to the strength of our relationship that I fully expect him to grow old and be featured in at least one documentary recounting his "sighting" - to be shot on his beef-jerky-walled compound. We'll carry on like we always have, nodding and smiling at each other's crazy obsessions. To be fair, I have my strange obsessions as well. But he will have to just start his own damn blog and to tell you about them.

...That is if he doesn't get eaten by an unknown primate whose stomach will be found to contain bits of Garren and beef jerky. But I will be able to confidently state at his funeral that that's the way he would have wanted it.