The Lying Nacho
by Nic Olson
I’ve never seen Nacho Libre. I’ve told everyone I had seen it. I know all about the stretchy pants and hating orphans and eating salad and numerous other quotable scenes from the movie, but I’ve never seen it. Chances are if you’ve seen it and quoted it around me, I likely laughed exaggeratedly as if I’d seen the movie and made some sort of allusion to the movie that I actually don’t know about, or said that I simply could not remember my favourite part because I loved it all so much. I haven’t seen it, and I needed to admit it. It removes a world of weight from my mind to tell you this. I really did want to see it. I love Jack Black and when I saw previews for the movie I said to my friends, “We gotta see that!” in my semi-jock excited movie theatre preview voice. So yeah, I wanted to see it.
Everyone is worried that they are missing out. On a once in a lifetime opportunity, on a once in a lifetime event, on a once in a lifetime sale.
I have a problem with this. Movies, TV shows, commercials, YouTube videos. If it was hilarious and people are in a group chuckling about it, chances are that I pretended that I saw it and laughed a forced laugh along. I know it is awkward, everyone has done it to a certain extent, but I catch myself doing it often. The insecurity of not knowing what people are talking about tears me up like an inside joke.
I cannot miss out on events without feeling a monumental void. If memories are made and I’m not part of them, hearing about them leaves me dry and dismal. If good times are being shared based on previously seen media or previously shared memories, I would rather risk myself looking like an utter fool by acting as if I know what you are talking about and being humiliated, than missing out on a communal time of merriment. It must be the late bloomer in me. It is a somewhat childish thing to do, but since I catch myself doing it often I can more easily spot when others are lying to me in the same way, and in other ways. It goes together well. A useful skill.
If I ever missed an important concert or event, I slept one thousand pounds heavier knowing that one of my friends was absent as well. I don’t know. I should truly be happy for them for being able to partake in any kind of event big or small, but it puts me at slight ease to know that I was not the only one in the world that missed the tightest concert ever, the wildest party ever, the tastiest meal ever. I just can’t deal.
But I am training myself to be different. I try to be entirely honest when people ask me if I’ve seen the new YouTube video of Kimbo Slice knocking out some other giant man in some backyard with his bare hands (I haven’t). I am training myself to be honest, and I’m training myself to care less about this nonsensical seen-it-all status that once worried me so much. I am working on it, but at the same time, I have been missing out on less lately. I saw tennis, I have seen all the shows. I have been a part of most all summer hangouts, and I’ve seen all the blockbusters. I am part of the media talk, I’m part of the up to date crowd. I’ve watched my YouTube, I’m not behind in anything. But the feeling of missing out still remains. I’m missing out on something that everyone else has witnessed, and I’m just forcing laughs next to them. I am still oblivious to everyone’s common knowledge and see that either I need to keep an eye out for what others are seeing, or just pop out my eyes and worry about it no more.
Everyone is worried that they are missing out. But missing out on what occupies most people’s conversation is usually for the best. And missing out on those intangible things that are rarely talked about, is what you actually don’t want to miss.
I’ve never seen Gladiator either.