She soothes my soul but she doesn..t fulfill my heart. I swing around in a circle on my chair and I think about the specifics.. 1) Well, she acts like we..re together and for some reason that comforts me even though it frightens my bones. 2) She notices the intricacies that make me and accepts and loves them despite how crazy she realizes I am. 3) My 4 am phone calls are greeted with ..I was hoping you would call... 4) She LOVES sex. 5) SHE LOVES SEX.. in all shapes and forms.
And that should be enough. Should it not? Nope, not for me. This is not enough for a Peter Pan boy of epic imaginations. This boy wants more. This boy cannot stop thinking about the Wal-Mart peek-a-boo seductress that forces him to use a credit card to pay for his Coca Cola. He can..t stop reliving and animating the lean back on a bed and the understated dance that blares through a stadium speaker. He can..t help but think that his Bret Ashley is destined to love some schmo while he wishes for a distant closeness in the cab on a ride home.
It..s official. I..m an asshole. I know that I don..t want her. I like her alright, but I refuse to tell her that this heart was taken by an unlikely ransacker weeks before her visit and eventual relocation. I refuse to tell her that her trip out here may be unfruitful despite her high expectations. I act as if nothing has changed. I act as if I..m falling in love.
And for some reason I think this is alright. For some reason she also thinks that this is alright despite my obvious chnages. ..If she were here things would be different... Truth is, they wouldn..t. I..ll let all you ladies out there know right now, a heart drifts because it is unsatisfied by the previous hunt, not because of situations. I..ve known real love. And real love does not drift. Real love wants to be so close to the person that they want nothing more than to squeeze every breath of life out of the other person into a cup and drink it slowly over every decade that will make up that person..s life. That..s love. It..s that ..thing... And there is nothing you can do to fake it. At least not in the heart. ; it knows. Either you have felt it before and know how to mimic it, you act like what you think it would be like, or you really feel it. And only the heart knows the answer to the puzzle. My heart tells me that the Indy 500 is over.
Only the heart knows that the body has already swallowed the juices of this funnel of deliciousness and is now feeling hungover and.. you know what I..m sick of these fucking metaphors, are you not?
I want the small blonde that makes my mind drift for days at a time. I want the girl that leaves me guessing where I stand. I want the girl that can..t die her hair pink, though she desperately wishes she could and still secure a job. I want the Myspace addicted girl that brings the facepaint to a game and wishes that she could wear it and a jersey without being ridiculed by her friends. I want the girl that only accepts a peck on the cheek at the end of a great night when all this boy wants is to wrap her up in a towel naked so that he can open it up every once in awhile and give her a razzledish (which I..ve just made up now for the action that I picture). I want the girl that will challenge me enough to keep things interesting yet care enough to let me win every once in awhile. For some reason though, I can..t help but feel that she..s just my Bret Ashley and that the next schmo will steal my thunder and care for my mermaid like a true captain would, leaving this lonely pirate with the agreeable wench with a fondness for ship head.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Friday, October 6, 2006
Self Doubt
With a slight positioning of her body in my general direction on a couch, she won my heart. But what the hell does that mean these days? Any cute girl that shows me any glimpse of attention my way can win my heart these days. Well, any blonde girl. The others have to try harder.
I guess I've always had a thing for blondes. As much I try to deny it, my preference is and always has been for blondes. Yeah I give the others a shot, but that..s like saying that Texas had a shot against USC last year. Texas won, but who would have thought? I mean, USC had all the cards stacked on their side. So saying another blonde has snatched my heart is like saying, hey USC won another national championship...Wow, really? That's surprising...
But she did. She has. And I don..t even know why. There are three other blondes in my life. Two of which, I've fallen into the just friends category, and the other, well the other is why I'm writing this. Yeah it..s narcissistic. And most of you probably don..t care about any of this. But the other is why I'm writing this.. I think.
With my current situation with said girl one would think I would be content. She seems to be the picture I've had in my mind of everything that I've wanted in a girl (which I refuse to go into detail about at this moment). But I'm not. Instead I have never been more interested in every other girl around me than now. It's like this girl has set lose this animal that has been hibernating. From what I can tell, she..s really is pretty much everything I've been looking for all of these years., but instead of running towards her, I'm looking for any reason to hop on a homemade boat and paddle to Russia.
Maybe I..m too young. Maybe the timing is off, the way it was years ago when I first realized what I was looking for in a child-at-heart, artist/ advertising mogul who has since disappeared. Distance and in independent goals ripped that one apart. But these aren't the problems that face us. She plans to eliminate the distance by moving here and she supports my desire for freedom and independence. Why does this scare the shit out of me? Am I really that scared of commitment? Am I scared that maybe she could be ..the.. freaking ..one..? Am I ready for that? Will I ever be ready for that?
Maybe I've been single for so long that I don..t really know what to do with someone as a boyfriend. It..s like I've lost my boyfriend instincts. The closer we get, and believe me it..s been a short, fast paced relationship thus far, the more I feel uneasy and a little, I dunno, frightened? The more that she seems to be right for me, the more I want to crawl under another girl and sabotage it all. Is that wrong? Why do I want to ruin any good thing that comes my way?
I remember when I did love last, at least loved in the sense that it was reciprocated, I did the same thing. My logic was that if I cheated on her, she would never want me back, and I could end it all and move on because I felt too young to be... settling... Thing is, a couple of years later when I thought I was ready, I tried to go back. And it was too late. She didn't feel the same. I can..t help but wonder if my infidelity played a factor. It worked, just as I had hoped. Who would have thought, years later, it would bite me in the arse?
And now, with an entirely new and quite different situation, I feel myself reaching for the same, misled solution. I..m poison. I hate to hear this talk about me being such a great guy from the girl friends of mine who would never want to be with me. They say that because they know me as a friend but that..s the only reason why. They say this because they aren't interested in me. They aren't interested in me because they know that I..m poison (I refuse to accept that they aren't attracted to me. I've brought sexy back.. along with Andy- Had to give him his props on that one. What the hell does ..props.. mean anyway? Proper respect?) They know how lost I am despite my persona of a man that has it all together. They know my indecision is a virus that infects all aspects of my life. They know I..m destined to be that old guy in the nursing home grabbing the nurses asses while drinking rum and playing cards. They know, despite all of their claims of seeing a guy that will settle down one day and having kids and doing that normal ..American Dream.. thing, that I..m A Restless Reptile Repeating Regurgitated Rhymes Randomly. ARRRRRR! That..s right! Grab your jolly roger and sail the seas with me, but I..m destined to be hung in the end.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once said that he was of a ..restless generation... I don..t remember the exact context but I've always remembered that phrase. I think it..s a term that could define our generation as well. We..re a youth hell-bent on revolution. We..re a youth that is aging. I..m not even one of the youth anymore by baby-boomer standards. But the fact that I just classified myself as one and the fact that there are some out there reading this that are my age and would agree with me proves that we..re an aging youth. A youth that is aiming for Peter Pan status but ending up old Hooks. We hear the clock in the alligator..s mouth but we refuse to leave Never-Never Land. Will I ever grow up? Will I ever give up the cities and seas and land somewhere in a suburban, white-picket-fence, family-oriented community?
I guess I've always had a thing for blondes. As much I try to deny it, my preference is and always has been for blondes. Yeah I give the others a shot, but that..s like saying that Texas had a shot against USC last year. Texas won, but who would have thought? I mean, USC had all the cards stacked on their side. So saying another blonde has snatched my heart is like saying, hey USC won another national championship...Wow, really? That's surprising...
But she did. She has. And I don..t even know why. There are three other blondes in my life. Two of which, I've fallen into the just friends category, and the other, well the other is why I'm writing this. Yeah it..s narcissistic. And most of you probably don..t care about any of this. But the other is why I'm writing this.. I think.
With my current situation with said girl one would think I would be content. She seems to be the picture I've had in my mind of everything that I've wanted in a girl (which I refuse to go into detail about at this moment). But I'm not. Instead I have never been more interested in every other girl around me than now. It's like this girl has set lose this animal that has been hibernating. From what I can tell, she..s really is pretty much everything I've been looking for all of these years., but instead of running towards her, I'm looking for any reason to hop on a homemade boat and paddle to Russia.
Maybe I..m too young. Maybe the timing is off, the way it was years ago when I first realized what I was looking for in a child-at-heart, artist/ advertising mogul who has since disappeared. Distance and in independent goals ripped that one apart. But these aren't the problems that face us. She plans to eliminate the distance by moving here and she supports my desire for freedom and independence. Why does this scare the shit out of me? Am I really that scared of commitment? Am I scared that maybe she could be ..the.. freaking ..one..? Am I ready for that? Will I ever be ready for that?
Maybe I've been single for so long that I don..t really know what to do with someone as a boyfriend. It..s like I've lost my boyfriend instincts. The closer we get, and believe me it..s been a short, fast paced relationship thus far, the more I feel uneasy and a little, I dunno, frightened? The more that she seems to be right for me, the more I want to crawl under another girl and sabotage it all. Is that wrong? Why do I want to ruin any good thing that comes my way?
I remember when I did love last, at least loved in the sense that it was reciprocated, I did the same thing. My logic was that if I cheated on her, she would never want me back, and I could end it all and move on because I felt too young to be... settling... Thing is, a couple of years later when I thought I was ready, I tried to go back. And it was too late. She didn't feel the same. I can..t help but wonder if my infidelity played a factor. It worked, just as I had hoped. Who would have thought, years later, it would bite me in the arse?
And now, with an entirely new and quite different situation, I feel myself reaching for the same, misled solution. I..m poison. I hate to hear this talk about me being such a great guy from the girl friends of mine who would never want to be with me. They say that because they know me as a friend but that..s the only reason why. They say this because they aren't interested in me. They aren't interested in me because they know that I..m poison (I refuse to accept that they aren't attracted to me. I've brought sexy back.. along with Andy- Had to give him his props on that one. What the hell does ..props.. mean anyway? Proper respect?) They know how lost I am despite my persona of a man that has it all together. They know my indecision is a virus that infects all aspects of my life. They know I..m destined to be that old guy in the nursing home grabbing the nurses asses while drinking rum and playing cards. They know, despite all of their claims of seeing a guy that will settle down one day and having kids and doing that normal ..American Dream.. thing, that I..m A Restless Reptile Repeating Regurgitated Rhymes Randomly. ARRRRRR! That..s right! Grab your jolly roger and sail the seas with me, but I..m destined to be hung in the end.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once said that he was of a ..restless generation... I don..t remember the exact context but I've always remembered that phrase. I think it..s a term that could define our generation as well. We..re a youth hell-bent on revolution. We..re a youth that is aging. I..m not even one of the youth anymore by baby-boomer standards. But the fact that I just classified myself as one and the fact that there are some out there reading this that are my age and would agree with me proves that we..re an aging youth. A youth that is aiming for Peter Pan status but ending up old Hooks. We hear the clock in the alligator..s mouth but we refuse to leave Never-Never Land. Will I ever grow up? Will I ever give up the cities and seas and land somewhere in a suburban, white-picket-fence, family-oriented community?
Thursday, October 5, 2006
Drunk Dial on a Dreary Evening
The air was chilly when I walked towards my car with the smell rotting grass permeating the falling autumn sky. Though the walk to my car was not alone, I could feel the solitude of the night that lay ahead sticking me in my side. It..s the first time I've had this feeling in a while. Not that I haven..t been home alone in awhile. Most nights are spent alone. I usually like being alone. But I felt different this night. I felt as though this loneliness was of another variety, like it was the end of the world and I would spend it looking at my wall just waiting for it be over with..
Sounds morbid huh? I don..t know why I get these phases. Maybe it..s that weather disorder. That seems to be what everyone else thinks it is. But this is fucking extreme. I was happy.. yesterday. I was so happy yesterday that my jaw hurt, badly and I wanted to just bang my head in the table in front of me to knock some of it out. In fact I think I could say that I..ve been extremely happy just about every day since, I dunno, April or May sometime. And I was even happy most of the day today but for some reason, that night sky and the realization of the end of a season, my season, made everything around me sour.
My apartment seemed to echo with silence and I sat in the dark on my couch for nearly twenty minutes before taking off my uniform and putting my jammy jams on. ..What the fuck is my problem?.. I thought. I mean things are going pretty well. There isn't really much to be sad about. In fact, my move downtown is downright exciting. So what..s with all these glum feelings? ..I don..t know what is.., I thought, ..but the only possible cure for it is Scrubs... The only possible thing that could lift my spirits from this awful depth of unfounded depression is some nice thoughtless fun in small doses. And maybe some old Ravioli with rotten Parmesan cheese.
I really have to stop eating anything that I find in my house. It..s just not good. Not in the sense that it doesn't taste good. Sometimes it does. The problem is that it..s just usually rotten in one way or another. But, I somehow talk myself into believing that the rotten cheese will somehow taste fresh when mixed with the ravioli from the cupboard. Maybe the ravioli will hide the rotten flavor and what will come out will be the tasty mixture of a genius. Sometimes I can be pretty crafty in the rotted food department of fine apartment dining. This is not one of those occasions. All this does is make me feel even more sick and before I..m even a quarter of the way through the meal I decide to chop it all into small pieces with the two blades that need a light switch and running water to run correctly.
..I..m gonna scrub my hands, and do my scrub my hands dance.. Scrub my hands, and do my scrub my hands dance...
..Oh that Turk is too much.. I giggle.
Ring ring. That..s my ring.
Actually, it sounded more like this: ....I've waited hours for this. I've made myself so sick, I wish I stayyyyyyyyed asleep today ayyyyyyyyyy... That..s her ringer. She calls and assaults and I feel even sicker than when I first arrived home. All of that work to make my night better begins to crumble and pretty soon I..m feeling worse than before. I..m done talking. I want to be depressed by myself. But then it happens, a voicemail.
Her voice is raspy, from smoking probably, and she slurs her words a bit, from drinking definitely and for some reason her whole tone has changed. She seems to genuinely care. I know she does, but she doesn't always seem that way. She seems to genuinely care this night during this message and for some reason, that..s all I really need. I guess I just need to be reassured sometimes that there are people out there that really care. And even though she may have dissed my school, which is a huge part of who I am today and she may feel that it..s necessary to point out that she always knew that I was attracted to her, but she never felt the same about me. And who cares if she took offense to everything I said to her on the phone and retorted with some kind of remark that left me wanting to not say anything. Fact of the matter is, she called back and she apologized and she meant it. And for some reason, this makes my night.
Sounds morbid huh? I don..t know why I get these phases. Maybe it..s that weather disorder. That seems to be what everyone else thinks it is. But this is fucking extreme. I was happy.. yesterday. I was so happy yesterday that my jaw hurt, badly and I wanted to just bang my head in the table in front of me to knock some of it out. In fact I think I could say that I..ve been extremely happy just about every day since, I dunno, April or May sometime. And I was even happy most of the day today but for some reason, that night sky and the realization of the end of a season, my season, made everything around me sour.
My apartment seemed to echo with silence and I sat in the dark on my couch for nearly twenty minutes before taking off my uniform and putting my jammy jams on. ..What the fuck is my problem?.. I thought. I mean things are going pretty well. There isn't really much to be sad about. In fact, my move downtown is downright exciting. So what..s with all these glum feelings? ..I don..t know what is.., I thought, ..but the only possible cure for it is Scrubs... The only possible thing that could lift my spirits from this awful depth of unfounded depression is some nice thoughtless fun in small doses. And maybe some old Ravioli with rotten Parmesan cheese.
I really have to stop eating anything that I find in my house. It..s just not good. Not in the sense that it doesn't taste good. Sometimes it does. The problem is that it..s just usually rotten in one way or another. But, I somehow talk myself into believing that the rotten cheese will somehow taste fresh when mixed with the ravioli from the cupboard. Maybe the ravioli will hide the rotten flavor and what will come out will be the tasty mixture of a genius. Sometimes I can be pretty crafty in the rotted food department of fine apartment dining. This is not one of those occasions. All this does is make me feel even more sick and before I..m even a quarter of the way through the meal I decide to chop it all into small pieces with the two blades that need a light switch and running water to run correctly.
..I..m gonna scrub my hands, and do my scrub my hands dance.. Scrub my hands, and do my scrub my hands dance...
..Oh that Turk is too much.. I giggle.
Ring ring. That..s my ring.
Actually, it sounded more like this: ....I've waited hours for this. I've made myself so sick, I wish I stayyyyyyyyed asleep today ayyyyyyyyyy... That..s her ringer. She calls and assaults and I feel even sicker than when I first arrived home. All of that work to make my night better begins to crumble and pretty soon I..m feeling worse than before. I..m done talking. I want to be depressed by myself. But then it happens, a voicemail.
Her voice is raspy, from smoking probably, and she slurs her words a bit, from drinking definitely and for some reason her whole tone has changed. She seems to genuinely care. I know she does, but she doesn't always seem that way. She seems to genuinely care this night during this message and for some reason, that..s all I really need. I guess I just need to be reassured sometimes that there are people out there that really care. And even though she may have dissed my school, which is a huge part of who I am today and she may feel that it..s necessary to point out that she always knew that I was attracted to her, but she never felt the same about me. And who cares if she took offense to everything I said to her on the phone and retorted with some kind of remark that left me wanting to not say anything. Fact of the matter is, she called back and she apologized and she meant it. And for some reason, this makes my night.
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