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An Inside Guy


I’m an inside guy. I like being inside. Everyone wants me to go outside—especially my wife. But almost everything I want to do is inside. Inside is nice. It’s warm in the winter, and cool in the summer. I have wireless, my computer, my books, a nice chair, ice, alcohol. It’s all right there in one convenient place. Isn’t this why we moved out of the wilderness and built homes in the first place? It’s nice inside.

I wasn’t always this way. There was a time where I was much more of an outdoors guy. Golfing. Surfing. Hiking. Camping. Fishing. Biking.

I used to mow my own lawn. I liked it. There is a lot to be said about mowing your own lawn. I found it very therapeutic. Very organized. Nice sense of accomplishment. But now I have a service and I complain about how they mow my lawn. It’s not the same.

I just don’t feel the pressure to be outside like I used to. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that I no longer give a shit if I’m tan. This is why I don’t really go to the beach anymore. I haven’t been surfing in awhile and I really don’t care if I’m tan. I just sit there, sweating, thinking, “Man, it’s really hot. How long until we can go home?” I swear the best part about going to the beach was coming home.

To be honest, I really don’t like swimming so there’s also that. I never really liked going in the water, unless I was surfing anyway. People would say, “Hey, let’s go in the water.” And I would think, “Why?”

I don’t even really like the pool.

“Why don’t you take a dip, it will cool you off,” my wife will say.

No thanks. I’ll just sit here and let the sweat run down by body. It’s fine.

And don’t even get me started on Hot Tubs. That’s just a petri dish of bad options if you ask me.

One of the other reasons I used to be outside a lot is that I smoked. I was a smoker. So, I spent a lot of time sitting outside. On the back patio. In our screen house. I would build a fire outside and sit there with my book, my drink, and my cigarettes. It was practical. I never smoked inside, so I needed to be outside. Now that I no longer smoke, we don’t have fires outside that much anymore either. No reason to be out there.

It bothers my wife, me being an inside guy. She’s an outside gal. Always has been. It’s one of the reasons I married her I think. She was a gardener. A runner. A beach girl. Always tan.

She’s always trying to get me to take a walk. I don’t get it.

“Do you want to take a walk?” she’ll ask. “No,” I say. “Not really.”

We’ve been married almost 20 years. This was never a thing I enjoyed, so I don’t understand why she thinks I’m going to change now. I’ll walk to get somewhere, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t understand aimless wandering around. Even when we take a walk on the beach, I’m thinking “How long do I have to walk until we can turn around?”

Maybe this is why I’m overweight.

The comedian Paul Reiser used to have a bit about this.

“I’m not lazy. But I don’t like to move a whole lot. I mean, if I am doing something, I’ll do it. I’m as active as the next guy. But if I’m sitting, I don’t like to get up. Even if I’m facing the wrong way. If I’m talking to someone whose chair isn’t quite facing me, I’ll talk to the side of their head. If I sit down and realize the TV is angled wrong, I won’t get up to adjust. I’ll watch it like that. I’ll sit there and wait till someone walks by and ask them to move the TV.”

This is how I feel.

One of the great things about being me is that I’ve never been bored a day in my life. I always have something I’m interested in doing. Way too much, in fact. Some of it happens outside. Like photography, for instance. I have no problem working hard on something I’m interested in. I’ll work outside in the cold and the heat. I don’t care.

But when I’m not working, I want to relax. I want to sit. And generally, I want to sit inside.

I can appreciate a beautiful day. The sun is shining. The temperature is just right. The humidity low. But I can sit in my upstairs office with a few windows open and enjoy it just as much. I don’t need to be pulling weeds, or washing my car, or being drug behind a boat to have fun.

Why do people feel the need to convince me that their idea of fun is what I need? Almost none of it interests me. Want to go skydiving? No. How about duck hunting? Again, no.

I’m perfectly content. I’m reading. I’m writing. I’m listening to music. I’m editing photos. I’m designing stuff. A lot of what I do happens in the eight inches in between my ears. I don’t need that much distraction. I’ve got it all going on right here. Give me a computer and some peace and quiet and I’m good. Don’t worry about me.

It’s hard for some people to understand this. These are people who are doers. My wife is a doer. My friend Bob is a doer. They are constantly in motion. Always DOING something. At least physically that is. I’m doing things too, it’s just harder to see.

The really hard thing about being an inside guy, is living near the shore. People get very excited about the summer. They want to be outside. They want to be at the beach. They want to ride on boats.

I’d be perfectly happy never to get on another boat. I don’t get the attraction. It’s one giant pain in the ass, if you ask me. It’s not comfortable. It’s expensive. You have to spend an hour cleaning them when you’re done using them. It’s a colossal waste of time.

The sheer pressure to be outside in the summer is staggering.

Frankly, give me a comfy seat, my ipad and a drink, and I can literally sit there all day long. I’m not even exaggerating a little. All day.

Ask my wife, she’ll tell you all about it.

About the author

David Todd McCarty

David Todd McCarty is a writer, director, photographer and cinematographer. He writes fiction and nonfiction essays as well as journalism. You can see his commercial work at http://www.hoppingfrogstudios.com

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Writer | Journalist | Storyteller


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