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    You Into It?: A Novella About Not Being Into It
    You Into It?: A Novella About Not Being Into It
    You Into It?: A Novella About Not Being Into It
    Ebook54 pages53 minutes

    You Into It?: A Novella About Not Being Into It

    By Genna Rivieccio

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    About this ebook

    Greg Kirchner, a full-fledged misogynist in his late 20s, struggles with the idea that the only thing to life is work, marriage and children. To cope with this fact, Greg uses infidelity as a way to distract himself from the mundane realities of the everyday.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateApr 9, 2014
    ISBN9781631920066
    You Into It?: A Novella About Not Being Into It

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      Book preview

      You Into It? - Genna Rivieccio

      ISBN: 9781631920066

      Dedicated to women and misogynists everywhere

      Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to make them alive, but I'm just a fucked up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.

      -Clementine Kruczynski, Eternal

      Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

      I guess my main question in life has always been: Why the fuck is everyone so into it? Into work, into appearances, into acting a certain way—the whole gamut of exercises in pointlessness. It's a query that has perpetually stayed at the forefront of my mind and the most probable reason for why I'm in a terrible relationship and trapped in a dead-end office job that requires zero effort or thought. I always presumed I would one day be cured of this apathy disease, fall in line with the rest of the enthusiastic lot that I seem to encounter at every turn. But it never happened. I suppose one might subsequently wonder why I don't just commit suicide if I'm so damn disinterested in life's offerings. Well, that's not really appealing either. I'd rather just wait out this life thing in a hazy stupor to see if anything worthwhile ever happens. Plus, someone who is full of love tends also to be full of hate. That's why I prefer stoicism and indifference. It allows for neutrality.

      I usually ride my bike to work each day. Because I'm so detached, I find the movements effortless and the occasional hills a non-challenge. Every morning before I leave, my girlfriend, Jane, makes me a fried egg on an English muffin. I know I should appreciate her more, but she's just so fucking pathetic that I can't. She doesn't have a job, but instead chooses to live off her parents' money under the guise of using it to make jewelry, for fuck's sake. But she doesn't ever make me eat her out and she does all the cooking, so how can I really break up with her? Before I left this morning she kissed me and said, Greg, you look so nice today.

      Her compliment disgusted me and I had to turn away as she tried to kiss me on the mouth. I grabbed my bike and practically ran out of the door. If I stayed in that apartment another second, I was going to end up saying something offensive to her. She was just so eager to please, so goddamn obsequious that it made me want to go out and fuck a prostitute.

      At work, I pretended as though I was doing something for the first three hours, then I completed the one task I had to do in an hour and went to lunch at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park so I could drink copious amounts of beer in an ambient park setting. Drinking beer during the workday is the only thing that ever calmed me, made me feel like I wasn't totally wasting my life by giving my dick and balls to the man. I usually liked to read while I sat in the park; it was an activity that tended to get the right woman to notice you: A blend of smart, insecure and not utterly obsessed with shopping.

      That day, I was reading This Side of Paradise because F. Scott Fitzgerald attracts women the most easily. The trick is not to choose something as cliché as The Great Gatsby and not something as emotionally disturbed as The Crack-Up. It's a foolproof method every time—which is why I wasn't surprised when a brunette (it's never a blonde, because women like my girlfriend are blonde) sat next to me nonchalantly and casually glanced at the title of what I was reading. She leaned in a little bit and said, That's my favorite Fitzgerald.

      I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and responded, Yeah, it's great. Amory and Rosalind are Fitzgerald's best representations of himself and Zelda.

      She looked as though she might have orgasmed upon hearing my generalized, bull shit assessment. She took it upon herself to turn my reply into an invitation, inching closer to me to say, Do you mind if I point out a particular passage to you?

      "How about you tell me your name first?

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