As has been previously established, there are so many things I love about the 80's - things like big hair, bright colors, and John Mellencamp (with or sans the "Cougar" I think he's divine). His songs are catchy and to this day get respectable radio play, can be heard at baseball games and firework shows, and represent all that's good and bad about American culture. His song "Hurts So Good" has been stuck on repeat in my mental iPod all day. And then it dawned on me...oh, this song is so much more than a catchy tune. It's truth.
This morning I woke up with a headache and a tummy ache, both of which were foreshadowed last night when I overindulged in garlic-laden Italian food and wine at Pasquini's and other alcoholic beverages at Herman's Hideaway and Black Crown Piano Lounge. I knew at the time that over-indulging in the present would mean future physically uncomfortable consequences, but I ate, drank and was a little too merry anyway. Hurts so good.
I know I'm not alone. When I woke up and browsed my news feed this morning I saw status update after status update of Facebook friends nursing hangovers, battling insomnia or grogginess from too little or too much sleep, and forming plans to do it all over again tonight, even though we know better. Hurts so good.
Last night, one of my single friends that I'm itching to set up, remarked that she is, "So over dating dumb-dumbs." She emphasized intelligence and politeness as two of her only non-negotiables. As I reassured her that I'd IQ background check before giving out her digits, I couldn't help but ask, "So...you've dated a lot of 'dumb-dumbs'...why? Were they hot?" Her guilty smile, definitive nod and raised eyebrows were all the affirmation I needed. I thought about my own dating track record in my 20's and how so many of the smart and beautiful women I knew knowingly date men they know won't satisfy any sort of long-term relationship standards for short-term fun. Hurts so good.
Why do we want and enjoy what's bad for us? And worse, why does what's bad for us feel so darn good?
I love to run. I'm learning to love to sweat. I love the feeling I get after a leisurely jog or an intense hour of kickboxing. But make no mistake, I love ice cream more than exercising. I love it even though I've figured out that dairy makes me ill. I'll gladly concede the calories and the constipation for a double scoop of mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone. If I had to choose between working out or eating ice cream, I'd pick ice cream every time. Even though I know it will make me feel terrible later. Even though I know it's not good for me. Even though I know that the endorphins from the run are better for me (emotionally, physically and spiritually) than the 31 flavors of tubs stretched tauntingly before me at Baskin Robbins.
Hurts so good.