Take, for example, one's fear or resentment of cats. I call that weird (aside: I like cats, so if you don't, there is something wrong with you). Another example would be ketchup (as in food enhancer). You don't like ketchup on everything? That's weird, man. Why? Because I do like ketchup on almost everything (I draw the line at pancakes). Therefore -- Are you following me closely, people? -- it's my quirk but it's your fetish.
Let's now talk about balloons. We know all normal people hate balloons. How do I know that? Well, I hate balloons, so it stands to reason that everyone hates balloons.
As a father of many, I have experienced the "joy" of balloons in the car, in the house, in the bedroom; then it's on the ceiling, under the bed, followed by out the window. At that point the whimpering and crying begins. It only ends when there is another, you guessed it, balloon.
Balloons are made to burst. That is part of their physical make-up. They have a thin membrane that covers...well, it covers nothing but air. You throw it, it pops; you sit on it, it pops; you bite it, it pops. It cannot win an endurance record whatsoever. Its lifespan runs from the time the heroic clerk gives it out till about the time that dad blows his cool, about five minutes later.
In other words, he pops his lid just after the balloon has burst its bubble.
I cannot possibly think of one good reason for balloons to exist. Yes, clerks (and stores, by extension) look good for giving out balloons. Clowns are seemingly mystical when they can convert balloons into a pony or a dinosaur or a puppy. But other than this temporary madness, what substantial good are they?
You, my faithful reader, are coming to the firm conclusion that I am nuts. (That may be very true, but I would suggest there are other reasons that back that up -- to be discussed at another time, in another place.) Suffice to say (see paragraph two), it is merely a quirk, but not a fetish.
Strange, yes. Humourous, indeed. Weird, I think not.
My balloon may be your cat. Uhmm, let me re-phrase that: after all, I wouldn't want to be caressing what I thought was a feline, only to have it pop on my lap (and I did say 'pop'). Or, my ketchup may be your dog. Again, I need to clarify: after all, I wouldn't want to spill a Bowser on my trouser.
I think I am making headway with you all. Please work with me. We all have these delicious differences that make us strange, weird, and quirky. We are all creatures of habits that we have developed from childhood, tendencies that have gone unchecked until they have morphed into full-fledged phobias.
And I think that is great. Newlyweds need to adjust to each other's habits. They won't learn that through marriage counselling; it only comes from the real thing of actually living together. That's why "they" say that the first year of marriage is generally the hardest..
It's also something that anyone and everyone needs to consider when working or living in close proximity to each other. Tenants, boarders, colleagues, employees, et al – no one is exempt. What we all need is the grace and patience to allow for other people's peculiarities.
Well, I've got to go and let my little fuzzball fetish play with a nice air-stealing fetish that one of my kids got at the store.
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