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5 Things That Are Ruined Once You Experience The Best Version Of Them

Not every type of a certain thing is equal. This is something I learned at a very early age, when my parents would order fried chicken for the family. The kids would get the drumsticks and thighs, basically all the dark meat. Little did I realize my parents saved the succulent white meat for themselves (hard to fault them, as they did pay for it, and, you know, put a roof over our heads). You can imagine my reaction when I first bought an order of chicken and bit into a huge, white meat breast. I thought I had lost my fried fucking mind. This goes for a lot of stuff, too. There are certain things you may even enjoy on a daily basis, but once you have the best version of it, it’s almost impossible to go back.

1. Liquor

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We all drank shitty liquor in college. It’s a part of the experience. I’ve put away enough plastic handles of Rich & Rare, Black Velvet, and Canadian Hunter to build…something that would require a lot of plastic bottles–Alcoholic LegoLand, maybe. Anyway, the point is, I always knew there was good liquor out there, and sure, I’d occasionally spring for some JD or Crown. (I hilariously considered those “good” liquors.) My life changed for the better and worse when I first had truly great bourbon. I never understood why people drank whiskey straight, which makes sense. The only whiskey I had been drinking was basically just grain alcohol with whiskey flavoring and brown coloring agents, so of course it tasted like shit on the rocks. My first glass of Bulleit basically ruined me. Sure, I went back to the plastic bottle life, but it wasn’t the same. These days, I’ll spring for good bourbon every now and then when I can, but I’m basically on a steady diet of Jim Beam. In fact, my entire motivation for acquiring wealth is to maintain a well-stocked bar. That’s it, really.

2. Cars

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I love my car. It’s a piece of shit, but I love it. That car holds so many great memories. Hell, I lost my virginity in that car, but if you think I wouldn’t trade it in for a Mercedes, BMW, or Audi in a second, you’re fucking high. Have you ever driven a true luxury car? It’s like piloting a damn spaceship. I’m sure it loses its luster once you’ve had it for a while like everything else, but that’s still some fantastic mediocrity. Before you drive a luxury car, you see a guy driving a BMW and you just assume he’s a prick because he has enough money to waste on a car that’s not even that much better than any other four-door sedan. I cannot believe how wrong I was about that. Driving a BMW is awesome. The accelerator doesn’t even behave like it’s something you press with your foot–it just seems to work off of instinct. It’s like you can will the car in your mind to fly forward–and it does.

3. Suits

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At my age, it’s still totally acceptable to buy off the rack and have a tailor take in the suit if it’s necessary. In fact, it’s a pretty decent option–or so you think until you wear something perfectly tailored for your body. A year ago, I was a groomsman in a wedding in which, as a gift to us, the groom paid for us all to get measured for suits that we got to keep. I don’t know if I can express how awesome that was. We all went to see his guy a few months before the wedding, got our measurements done, and then waited a while. I was told my suit was ready, so I went to the shop to try it on and see if any slight alterations needed to be made. Holy. Shit. I never realized what a real suit felt like until that moment. It was as comfortable as a pair of sweatpants, and it fit so perfectly, it actually made me look…suave? I know, it’s insane. So what happened? We had the wedding (out of town) and in my hungover haste to check out the next morning on time, I left the suit in my hotel room’s closet. Yeah. My perfectly hand-crafted, charcoal suit that cost my buddy well over a thousand dollars. Left behind. In a fucking Courtyard Marriott closet. I called that place every day for three weeks. The suit was never turned in. It’s the greatest tragedy of my life.

4. Blow Jobs

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Depending on when you become sexually active, there’s a statistic likelihood that you’ll have a lot of bad-to-mediocre oral experiences before hooking up with someone who actually knows what the hell she’s doing. The great thing is that most girls in their twenties are at least “good” at giving head, if not particularly enthusiastic about it. But I speak for myself (and millions of guys out there) when I tell you that once you get the perfect beej, the rest are spoiled forever. Someday, you’ll hook up with that one girl who uses the perfect amount of suction, pays special attention to the royal jewels, does the “look up to see how she’s doing” move every now and then, and on top of it all, truly ENJOYS it. Not in a weird porn way, but like an expert woodworker who has spent years perfecting her craft, and every slight move she makes on the wood looks like it took a year to learn. Once you’ve had that, the girl who reluctantly drops down south out of some depressing feeling of obligation is basically wasting her time. Some guys even get to marry the MVPs of fellating. We call them “lucky bastards.”

5. Good Seats At A Game

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My best seats at each respective sport are as follows: behind the dugout at Rangers Ballpark during the 2011 ALCS, a luxury box at the Staples Center for a Lakers game, on the 50 yard line for college football, and on the glass at a Dallas Stars game. I’ve never had a good seat at an NFL game, which is ok, because NFL games are the worst sport to watch live out of all of those. Have you tried going back to the nosebleeds after being within reaching distance of the players on the field? That’s the kind of shock that makes people say ridiculous things like, “Maybe we’d have been better off just watching the game at home.” That statement is a complete fallacy, but the place it comes from is true. That’s why you have to organize your life in such a way that you either get rich enough to buy season tickets or you make enough friends who have access to tickets that you can use when you need to. In fact, that rule basically applies to everything on this list. I’ll let you draw the conclusion about which route I’m currently taking.

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Randall J. Knox

Randall J. Knox (known colloquially to his friends as "Knox") left his native Texas a few years ago, and moved to Los Angeles in his '03 Buick Regal named LeRoi to write movies with his jackass college buddies. His favorite things in life include bourbon that's above his pay grade, mix CDs, and Kevin Costner films. He isn't sure what "dad jeans" are exactly, but he knows he wants a pair.

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