Damien Galeone

We all know about the first world problems: I have too many bank accounts! I don’t like my gardener’s mustache. The bank accidentally gave me $1,000. Ugh! And I know they are joke in comparison to more disturbing problems like: My mother is dying of cholera or Boy does that hyena look hungry.

My first world problems are the same as most others: All of my technology is beeping at me. Four cheese pizza my pasty white ass! My inbox says one email, but I can’t find it.

What makes me worse than your average first world complainer is that I not only suffer first world problems, I suffer the first world problems of a middle-aged man with no kids, wife, or car payments. And whereas our first world complainer needs a third world problem (hyena) to put his ‘problems’ in perspective, I need only compare my problems with those of a married friend.

I need to get home to feed my cat. Yes, this is one that people with kids love to hear. They especially appreciate it if I grumble and stomp my feet when saying it. I then watch with a giggle as they stuff four kids screeching like Yoko Ono into a minivan and drive away sobbing. I then wander back to my house, feed the cat, and watch TV or read. Then I thank all the deities in the history of man that the only being I need to take care of eats off the floor, poops in a box, and then cleans herself afterwards.

I have too many plans this week, I need to cancel something. To be a youngish, (piss off, I still have brown hair) unmarried, childless guy living in Prague is a tough gig. There are friends, extremely cheap beer, and this glorious thing called Becherovka, which is like the sweet nectar from an angel’s bile duct. When one of my friends with kids gets a night out, it’s as though they have been given a weekend pass from a Siberian insane asylum. They stare at the walls with a dazed and confused look. Sometimes as they head back home, they cry.

Gosh it’s hard dating younger women. Here’s one that my married male friends both in the U.S and in Prague just love. I am fully aware that I should not be allowed to date the women I date. They are far too good looking and far too young for a guy who groans when he gets out of bed and actively remembers the 1970s. But still, sometimes there are little problems that come with younger women. They are too fun. They are open to lots and lots of…interesting ideas. And let’s face it, it’s hard to get your writing done when there’s a woman in your flat who is both beautiful and naked.

So please pity me. I know that you are busy with kids and payments and a spouse who stopped touching you a decade ago. But please consider my problems. I have a cat who is demanding during the three hours a day that she is awake. I am busy with my overwhelming social life. And the women in my life are too good looking.

FML