What sort of demented notions lead one to believe that watching the top-ten romantic comedies of the decade will somehow ease the loneliness inside? And what insanity drives me to look forward to crying at the happy ending? Do I have a subconscious need to cry? Why?
Maybe to feel something other than the hollow despair that I feel when I look around my small apartment, during yet another weekend spent utterly alone.
I'm not pining for a girlfriend, necessarily. Just having friends would be nice. Having both would seem like winning the lottery at this point. And, I suppose I have friends - but how great are friendships that are solely dependent upon playing the same online game? I don't even like games much anymore. Is a real social life too much to ask? You know, the kind that involves actual people doing actual things in the actual world?
I'm not saying every night needs to be city-roving party, but once in a while it'd be nice to get out. I used to have friends. It used to not be a problem.
Then I got married. I don't blame my ex for my lack of social life, but the marriage played a role. Married, kids, moving around, trying to keep the bills paid.
Now there's been the divorce, and I have tons of free time. And no one to spend it with. I've always been a kind of a loner, but I always had friends if I wanted to be social. Now, there is no choice. I have no real, honest-to-God friends anymore. I feel awkward going out to bars or whatever alone to try to make friends because, well, isn't that the sort of thing people do with friends they already have? And who wants some lonely jack-ass intruding on their night out in a vain attempt to expand their social network?
So here I sit again. Alone. Watching movies to try to take my mind off the gaping emptiness in my chest. Inspired to write a depressing blog that no one will ever read. And for what? I don't know. I really don't.
Just me and the apartment that doesn't even have washer / dryer hook-ups. One bed. One bath. One lonely heart.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Sunbeams Through The Clouds
Well it's been a while, my minions, but I have decided to grace you once more with my artistically articulated allusions, assumptions, and allegations. I'm in rare form this evening, or morning, as it were. And it strikes me as odd that I should feel so, for lack of a better word, bouncy.
The divorce is charging closer and my life is about to take a hard turn - left or right, I am unsure. This mental unrest draws clouds over my usually sunny demeanor, and I can't help but feel anxious about what my life will be like when I am once again legally single.
I could jump for joy, but that feels wrong, and at any rate I'm not all that excited about it. Don't get me wrong, I've no love for the notion of remaining in a loveless marriage, but I've been married for nearly five years. FIVE YEARS. For half a decade I've been allowed to be fat and not had to do my own laundry. Now I'm gonna have to get in shape and remember to separate my "whites". I used to just call them socks.
I wonder if I shall thrive in this new paradigm, or hang limply like an old man's... Nevermind. At any rate, you can surely imagine what angst this coming dawn injects me with. So, again, I find it strange that I am all bubbly this morning. I suppose I shouldn't second guess it or think it to death. Chances are tomorrow will bring less desirable emotions, and then I'll be left all pissed off that I didn't enjoy the mood while I could.
So, here's to random bouts of happiness! I hope you have a dose soon yourselves.
Later, bitches.
The divorce is charging closer and my life is about to take a hard turn - left or right, I am unsure. This mental unrest draws clouds over my usually sunny demeanor, and I can't help but feel anxious about what my life will be like when I am once again legally single.
I could jump for joy, but that feels wrong, and at any rate I'm not all that excited about it. Don't get me wrong, I've no love for the notion of remaining in a loveless marriage, but I've been married for nearly five years. FIVE YEARS. For half a decade I've been allowed to be fat and not had to do my own laundry. Now I'm gonna have to get in shape and remember to separate my "whites". I used to just call them socks.
I wonder if I shall thrive in this new paradigm, or hang limply like an old man's... Nevermind. At any rate, you can surely imagine what angst this coming dawn injects me with. So, again, I find it strange that I am all bubbly this morning. I suppose I shouldn't second guess it or think it to death. Chances are tomorrow will bring less desirable emotions, and then I'll be left all pissed off that I didn't enjoy the mood while I could.
So, here's to random bouts of happiness! I hope you have a dose soon yourselves.
Later, bitches.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Excitement Is A 10-Letter Word
Everyone gets lucky sometimes, even me. I recently met a sweetheart of a girl with a darling country accent who hails from the great state of Georgia. I won't embarass her by giving her name here, but she knows who she is. And she is awesome.
It came as a surprise, really. I put out some feelers and actually managed to get a hit. We've been getting to know each other over the past few weeks and every day the excitement grows. I can't wait to get home to find an email from her, or sit and chat on Messenger. I find myself thinking of her at work, at home, in the shower... Well, c'mon, I'm a guy.
She is a rare gem, shining brighter in every facet as it turns in the sun... Sure, I'm a little sappy, but gimme a break, I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find such a treasure. And yet, there she was. Timid, but brave enough to take a chance on me. She thinks my girls are adorable, which, of course, they are. :) She's adventurous, sweet, responsible, kind, and just a touch of naughty - it's amazing she was even available to grab up.
Granted, she's not mine yet, but things are progressing well. Every day feels like another step toward a beautiful romance. And those of you who think I'm being a wimp for feeling romantic can eat a giant dick. If I feel the desire to buy flowers and write poetry, it's a good thing. Besides, when you're this awesome, you can't really do much of anything to tarnish your image. :) Okay, that was a little egotistic...
At any rate, I can't wait to see where this rose-colored road leads. I've been lucky so far, perhaps soon I shall add blessed to the list. In any case, the worst that can happen is making a new, awesome friend. Naturally, I'm hoping for more. But it's nice to be in a win-win situation.
It came as a surprise, really. I put out some feelers and actually managed to get a hit. We've been getting to know each other over the past few weeks and every day the excitement grows. I can't wait to get home to find an email from her, or sit and chat on Messenger. I find myself thinking of her at work, at home, in the shower... Well, c'mon, I'm a guy.
She is a rare gem, shining brighter in every facet as it turns in the sun... Sure, I'm a little sappy, but gimme a break, I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find such a treasure. And yet, there she was. Timid, but brave enough to take a chance on me. She thinks my girls are adorable, which, of course, they are. :) She's adventurous, sweet, responsible, kind, and just a touch of naughty - it's amazing she was even available to grab up.
Granted, she's not mine yet, but things are progressing well. Every day feels like another step toward a beautiful romance. And those of you who think I'm being a wimp for feeling romantic can eat a giant dick. If I feel the desire to buy flowers and write poetry, it's a good thing. Besides, when you're this awesome, you can't really do much of anything to tarnish your image. :) Okay, that was a little egotistic...
At any rate, I can't wait to see where this rose-colored road leads. I've been lucky so far, perhaps soon I shall add blessed to the list. In any case, the worst that can happen is making a new, awesome friend. Naturally, I'm hoping for more. But it's nice to be in a win-win situation.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Just Like Old Times, But With A Bigger Headache
Okay, so the first step toward Funville has been taken, which is good, but I think I sprained my ankle in the process. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) It takes a bigger toll on the old body to be out late drinking than it used to. I had a good time, though. I went out with some friends from work - we drank, shot some pool (I totally owned everyone), drank some more, and polished off the evening with that most wonderful of post-binge traditions, Waffle House.
Steak and Eggs, Baby. Steak and Eggs.
Anyway, I woke up today with a beaver chewing on my skull and napalm in my throat. Turns out that getting older makes it more difficult to bounce back from a night of frivolity. And, of course, my darling daughters decided to play "let's jump up and down on Daddy" this morning. Bonus.
But, the important thing is I had a good time. I spent too much money and nearly slept with someone who I have since learned is a bit of a psycho, but all is well. It's always better to find out someone is bat-shit crazy before nailing them in a moment of drunken inhibition-less-ness. I know. I've tried doing it the other way around, and it never works out.
And ladies (guys too, I suppose), why is it that you can't let the crazy hang out right from the beginning? Why do you always have to wait until we (I) develop an attachment or at least some small feelings for you before you wave the nutjob banner? Honestly, just be yourself. Even if yourself sucks, there is someone out there who is perfect for you. Someone who digs drama, trivial fights, jealousy, being controlled and watched like a hawk. It just ain't me, lady.
I'm kind of ranting now, so it's time to finish up.
In summation: Had fun last night. Dodged sleeping-with-crazy-people bullet. Check your drama at the door. Pass the aspirin. Steak and eggs, baby. Steak and eggs.
Steak and Eggs, Baby. Steak and Eggs.
Anyway, I woke up today with a beaver chewing on my skull and napalm in my throat. Turns out that getting older makes it more difficult to bounce back from a night of frivolity. And, of course, my darling daughters decided to play "let's jump up and down on Daddy" this morning. Bonus.
But, the important thing is I had a good time. I spent too much money and nearly slept with someone who I have since learned is a bit of a psycho, but all is well. It's always better to find out someone is bat-shit crazy before nailing them in a moment of drunken inhibition-less-ness. I know. I've tried doing it the other way around, and it never works out.
And ladies (guys too, I suppose), why is it that you can't let the crazy hang out right from the beginning? Why do you always have to wait until we (I) develop an attachment or at least some small feelings for you before you wave the nutjob banner? Honestly, just be yourself. Even if yourself sucks, there is someone out there who is perfect for you. Someone who digs drama, trivial fights, jealousy, being controlled and watched like a hawk. It just ain't me, lady.
I'm kind of ranting now, so it's time to finish up.
In summation: Had fun last night. Dodged sleeping-with-crazy-people bullet. Check your drama at the door. Pass the aspirin. Steak and eggs, baby. Steak and eggs.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Push To 30, Hopefully The New 20
Well, here I sit, facing that part of the day when I have to get my ass up and go to work. I'm on second shift, so this part of my day comes later than many people's, but it sucks just as hard. The job is okay, I suppose. I've managed to dodge both "reductions" (read: mass layoffs) that have occurred in the past six months, the work itself is easy enough and the people are pretty cool. But I can't help feeling like there is supposed to be something more.
I was catching up on my sister's blog, which I only recently discovered was in existence (horrible brother am I), and she mentioned in one post how she used to imagine herself all grown up and glamorous, but now realizes that she is all grown up, and the time to get glamorous was at hand. I myself will be 28 years old soon and it's taking more and more of my manly strength to push back 30.
To say I have accomplished nothing would be a great disservice to myself. I have three beautiful daughters who, luckily, are still too young to realize that they are smarter than I. I do my best to provide for them, and I feel like I'm a pretty good dad. Sure, my marriage has basically fallen apart to the point where my wife and I are little more than roommates (who get along as friends, mind you), but that has more to do with people changing over time than any wrong doing on either of our parts.
But where is that elusive glamor? Where's the sex, drugs and rock 'n roll life I knew just a few (or maybe closer to 5) years ago? Have I become so comfortably numb that a modicum of excitement is now beyond my grasp? Surely not, but the road to Funville is often roadblocked with bills, responsibilities, aching bones and lack of gumption. I try to travel that rockin' highway, but more often than not I end up making a u-turn back to the house. And the cycle starts anew.
Wake. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat...
But, as also pointed out by my not-so-little-anymore sister, noone is going to change it for me. Time to rev the engine, make some changes, and charge through that toll-booth to the glamor-fun-rock 'n roll-sexy party time highway, without paying. Well, okay, maybe I'll pay the toll. But I ain't usin' exact change. Suck on that, maturity and responsibility. Suck it hard. And long. Sorry, it's been a while, if ya know what I mean.
Look out world, man pushing thirty with an early midlife crisis coming through! I'm gonna rock out with my cock out, knock the walls out with my balls out (just made that up), and leave a wake of pent-up angst and destruction behind me. I'll be taking no prisoners. But, first, I may take a nap.
I was catching up on my sister's blog, which I only recently discovered was in existence (horrible brother am I), and she mentioned in one post how she used to imagine herself all grown up and glamorous, but now realizes that she is all grown up, and the time to get glamorous was at hand. I myself will be 28 years old soon and it's taking more and more of my manly strength to push back 30.
To say I have accomplished nothing would be a great disservice to myself. I have three beautiful daughters who, luckily, are still too young to realize that they are smarter than I. I do my best to provide for them, and I feel like I'm a pretty good dad. Sure, my marriage has basically fallen apart to the point where my wife and I are little more than roommates (who get along as friends, mind you), but that has more to do with people changing over time than any wrong doing on either of our parts.
But where is that elusive glamor? Where's the sex, drugs and rock 'n roll life I knew just a few (or maybe closer to 5) years ago? Have I become so comfortably numb that a modicum of excitement is now beyond my grasp? Surely not, but the road to Funville is often roadblocked with bills, responsibilities, aching bones and lack of gumption. I try to travel that rockin' highway, but more often than not I end up making a u-turn back to the house. And the cycle starts anew.
Wake. Breakfast. Work. Lunch. Work. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat...
But, as also pointed out by my not-so-little-anymore sister, noone is going to change it for me. Time to rev the engine, make some changes, and charge through that toll-booth to the glamor-fun-rock 'n roll-sexy party time highway, without paying. Well, okay, maybe I'll pay the toll. But I ain't usin' exact change. Suck on that, maturity and responsibility. Suck it hard. And long. Sorry, it's been a while, if ya know what I mean.
Look out world, man pushing thirty with an early midlife crisis coming through! I'm gonna rock out with my cock out, knock the walls out with my balls out (just made that up), and leave a wake of pent-up angst and destruction behind me. I'll be taking no prisoners. But, first, I may take a nap.
The First Story Is The Oldest Story
She's a special kind of girl. You know her type. She laughs at my jokes, likes the same music (mostly) that I do, even plays the same video games. Her sense of humor is on par with mine and she doesn't mind if a joke is off-color or a little dirty. She's got that look that I love. Every guy has a look that he loves, each a little different.
Yes, I've no doubt you know her type. I've no doubt that you have or have had someone like that in your life. And the one thing that ties all the girls (or guys) of her type together is this: You can't have her. And no, I can't have her. Oh, I could probably charm my way into a few dates, maybe even make her my own. If it weren't for the simple fact that she belongs to someone else.
If that wasn't salt in the gaping wound of desire, there's always the fact that the guy she belongs to is one of my good friends. Yeah, that stings. It would be one thing if I didn't know the guy. I could work my wiles and hope to draw her away from him, assured that I was doing no less than rescuing a damsel in distress from what must be a less-than-fulfilling relationship with someone who could never appreciate her as much as I do.
But, no. He's a stand-up guy. Respectable, responsible, and fun to be around. Not as fun as I am, sure, but my level of awesome takes years to master (useless as it may be in the face of wallowing in the "friend" category of her mind). Unrequited love. Oldest one in the book. Wanting that which eludes us.
It's not even a matter of wanting to nail her. Sure, I'm sexually attracted to her. But the important thing, that which truly draws me to her is the connection I feel to her as a person. That same connection which betrays me to the "friend" status. Maybe someday I'll get my chance. Maybe not. I'll just have to hope to find another like her, though we all know how likely we believe that to be in times like this. I do know this; I would never wish heartache on her or my friend with whom she is currently attached. But, should the day come that they break apart, I know I want to be the one consoling her. And, when the right time presents itself, make known my deeper feelings for her.
Maybe that makes me an asshole. I don't know. I hope not, but even if it does I don't know that it would stop me from trying to win her should that day come. As some famous person whose name I cannot recall once said, "the heart wants what the heart wants". She's a special kind of girl.
Yes, I've no doubt you know her type. I've no doubt that you have or have had someone like that in your life. And the one thing that ties all the girls (or guys) of her type together is this: You can't have her. And no, I can't have her. Oh, I could probably charm my way into a few dates, maybe even make her my own. If it weren't for the simple fact that she belongs to someone else.
If that wasn't salt in the gaping wound of desire, there's always the fact that the guy she belongs to is one of my good friends. Yeah, that stings. It would be one thing if I didn't know the guy. I could work my wiles and hope to draw her away from him, assured that I was doing no less than rescuing a damsel in distress from what must be a less-than-fulfilling relationship with someone who could never appreciate her as much as I do.
But, no. He's a stand-up guy. Respectable, responsible, and fun to be around. Not as fun as I am, sure, but my level of awesome takes years to master (useless as it may be in the face of wallowing in the "friend" category of her mind). Unrequited love. Oldest one in the book. Wanting that which eludes us.
It's not even a matter of wanting to nail her. Sure, I'm sexually attracted to her. But the important thing, that which truly draws me to her is the connection I feel to her as a person. That same connection which betrays me to the "friend" status. Maybe someday I'll get my chance. Maybe not. I'll just have to hope to find another like her, though we all know how likely we believe that to be in times like this. I do know this; I would never wish heartache on her or my friend with whom she is currently attached. But, should the day come that they break apart, I know I want to be the one consoling her. And, when the right time presents itself, make known my deeper feelings for her.
Maybe that makes me an asshole. I don't know. I hope not, but even if it does I don't know that it would stop me from trying to win her should that day come. As some famous person whose name I cannot recall once said, "the heart wants what the heart wants". She's a special kind of girl.
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