Okay. So I've been procrastinating a little on the Sock Diaries portion of all of this. Last we spoke about my love life, I was telling you about a new woman in my life. Between her wanting to avoid being called out in my public blog (though I assured her that it was read by about all of ten people, of whom I probably know one... that one being her...) and me living a relatively boring life, I've been wanting to avoid this a little.
My life has become pretty routine as of late. No exciting drama from my break-up, no exciting army stuff to report. I get up, I work out with my unit, I shower, I go to work, I get off work I work out at the gym, I come home I watch whatever show I still have stored on my hard drive that I haven't expended, and at the end of the day, I spend time with my new lady friend.
To be honest, things aren't as simple as that on that front. The truth is, we were both broken from break-ups when we came together, and despite the fact that she's helped me get over my ex, she's still having a few issues. She told me recently that she still loves him. That was... not really a surprise. Hopefully, soon, I'll be able to use my time off to give her what she needs. I haven't really been able to do that. We're not diving into a serious relationship, or anything right now, especially with one another. The timing isn't right, and I messed things up before with bad timing. No. We're two broken birds that would only fall faster together
For a while this was mostly about trying to fill that void that was left by my ex, seeing as how writing and working out can only last until about 8PM every damn day. But now, neither one of us knows where the hell it's going. I've begun to really like her. She's challenging and smart and just the right amount of irritating that makes me want to come back for more. She knows me in a way that's more than just knowing what I like and dislike, but why. She digs into that deeper side of me that only comes out in my writing. She's that other side of me that kicks back and tells me to be smarter. The side that says I'm good but I can be better...
*Ahem*
Anyway, back to the point. There's the gym. There's work. And there's a girl. Next, I go to Honduras and we see if I can stay out of trouble in Central America.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Into the Minds of Men... Pt. 1
What Men Want
What I am here to do for you today, is to give you some insight into the minds of men, as you should have already concluded from the title. Now you may wonder why I would be sharing info on what happens in guys minds for a few different reasons, one being, that my target audience is usually men. My rebuttal to that is that you may have a target but you won’t always hit it. Another reason would be why would I be sharing these trade secrets? Won’t I be breaking articles of some kind of bro code? The answer is that these aren’t trade secrets, they’re just little bits of information that women may never have perceived without a little help, which answers the second question, no, I am well within the confines of the bro code. Another reason you may wonder why I would be writing this is that you believe there is only one thing in the mind of a man: SEXSEXSEX. To which I would say to you… “I hope you wake up with your face on fire.” I would say it.
What Men Want
Men want something from a woman every time they get into any kind of relationship with a woman, whether it’s a one-night stand (for some quick self-confidence boosting, and stress relieving). In a long term relationship, or a marriage, a man wants one thing over all. That thing is to feel like a king. We want to know that when we’re around the woman we chose to be with, our word is law, our whim is command, and our will is the only way. This doesn’t necessarily mean we want blind obedience, but it means that around our significant other, things go OUR WAY. We want to be seen as the strongest creature to grace the face of the earth, the only one who can solve problems, “He Who Knows.” Men like to believe that when push comes to shove, he can conquer any feat that poses threat to his own.
What is often missed in a man being a good king, is having a good queen. He needs a queen as much as, if not more than he needs a kingdom. A king needs a queen that will go down in the sinking ship with him, still insisting that he was right, and the whole world was wrong, as they drift to the bottom of the ocean. He needs a queen who will agree wholeheartedly that down is up, and up is down, if it supports her king’s theory. Kings are nearly spineless without a good queen supporting him.
The king theory fits most heterosexual males that usually do more with their day than sit on a couch and whine about having 700 channels on TV with nothing to watch. But of course, as I must always do, I will include my disclaimer: This is in no way supposed to umbrella every straight male you will ever meet, but it should cure that rash, I mean cover just enough, like a good pair of panties.
What I am here to do for you today, is to give you some insight into the minds of men, as you should have already concluded from the title. Now you may wonder why I would be sharing info on what happens in guys minds for a few different reasons, one being, that my target audience is usually men. My rebuttal to that is that you may have a target but you won’t always hit it. Another reason would be why would I be sharing these trade secrets? Won’t I be breaking articles of some kind of bro code? The answer is that these aren’t trade secrets, they’re just little bits of information that women may never have perceived without a little help, which answers the second question, no, I am well within the confines of the bro code. Another reason you may wonder why I would be writing this is that you believe there is only one thing in the mind of a man: SEXSEXSEX. To which I would say to you… “I hope you wake up with your face on fire.” I would say it.
What Men Want
Men want something from a woman every time they get into any kind of relationship with a woman, whether it’s a one-night stand (for some quick self-confidence boosting, and stress relieving). In a long term relationship, or a marriage, a man wants one thing over all. That thing is to feel like a king. We want to know that when we’re around the woman we chose to be with, our word is law, our whim is command, and our will is the only way. This doesn’t necessarily mean we want blind obedience, but it means that around our significant other, things go OUR WAY. We want to be seen as the strongest creature to grace the face of the earth, the only one who can solve problems, “He Who Knows.” Men like to believe that when push comes to shove, he can conquer any feat that poses threat to his own.
What is often missed in a man being a good king, is having a good queen. He needs a queen as much as, if not more than he needs a kingdom. A king needs a queen that will go down in the sinking ship with him, still insisting that he was right, and the whole world was wrong, as they drift to the bottom of the ocean. He needs a queen who will agree wholeheartedly that down is up, and up is down, if it supports her king’s theory. Kings are nearly spineless without a good queen supporting him.
The king theory fits most heterosexual males that usually do more with their day than sit on a couch and whine about having 700 channels on TV with nothing to watch. But of course, as I must always do, I will include my disclaimer: This is in no way supposed to umbrella every straight male you will ever meet, but it should cure that rash, I mean cover just enough, like a good pair of panties.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Why Men Do Men Cheat?
"Why do men cheat?" The age old question is asked. Normally, I would go off in some tangent about how it should be "Why do people cheat?" because women, of course, have their bouts of infidelity. But this time, I will actually focus on the male side of fault. "Why do men cheat?" I can answer this question for the vast majority of straight men out there, who have cheated on someone they love, whether it be wife, or girlfriend. There are millions of broken hearted sweethearts out there who have the same questions. Victims of the same domestic crime.
Why.
Do.
Men.
Cheat?
Why would a guy seemingly go out of his way to throw everything he's built with someone in a relationship away for some random, unreliable piece of cheap ass? Well, one thing to be cleared up is that he's not thinking about throwing anything away. In fact, he's not thinking about you at all. When he's face first in some strange, purple-pube dyed muff, your love is not giving you a moment of thought. But the question is, do you really want him to think about you while he's waist deep in the fat nurse from next door? Honestly, that would mean he has some kind of strange comtempt for you that he wishes, and therefore initiated, that you were someone else. No, your man paying you any mind. At that moment it's about pussy.
Do you think that cheating has something to do with love? Well then you're an idiot, stop reading my literature now. The most loving man in the world can cheat on his wife, because as I said before, he won't be thinking about his wife while he catches herpes from the 53 year old hooker from the liquor store three blocks away. There is a moment, though, where you, the betrayed, are actually thought of. And it's right before the deed is initiated. When he gets that call that it's time, he gets things together and wonders if he should go with it, weighs the level of risk of getting caught, (huge factor) and, very briefly, what it would be like to trade the significant other in for the sideline girl.
Men are created with a spare almost everything. spare ball, spare eye, spare hand, one tongue, but a bunch of teeth. The most dangerous spare is the spare brain. The other factor in cheating, that every woman likes to accuse of being the number one factor in all cases, "The Other Head." The "Other Head" contains another brain, that was given the power to override all logic functions in the male brain. So many times it's all just about getting laid. Getting something "different." Does it really make sense? No. Not one bit. In reality, well, scientifically, a woman's orgasm is on average much more powerful than that of a man, but notoriously hard to accomplish by vaginal intercourse alone. When it comes down to it, no matter what position you get in, it's still an in and out motion until ejaculation. A male can't reach sexual satisfaction without orgasm, as a woman can. In most cases, males get much less out of the trade-off. So why would a man want something different, if he knows, in essence, it's almost the same thing?
Cheat. Ok, I was trying to do this whole thing where I start every paragraph with a word until the first word of every paragraph collectively read "Why do men cheat." In reality, it's very difficult to inconspicuously start a sentence with a verb, so I just put it there. It's done. Get over it. The last peice to the heart-breaking puzzle is... greed. The number One reason men cheat, is because they're being greedy. There's nothing wrong with what they have, despite their desparate attempts at justifying things by blaming "Staleness in their sexual relationship." They just want more. The ice cream and the cake. Greed.
Why.
Do.
Men.
Cheat?
Why would a guy seemingly go out of his way to throw everything he's built with someone in a relationship away for some random, unreliable piece of cheap ass? Well, one thing to be cleared up is that he's not thinking about throwing anything away. In fact, he's not thinking about you at all. When he's face first in some strange, purple-pube dyed muff, your love is not giving you a moment of thought. But the question is, do you really want him to think about you while he's waist deep in the fat nurse from next door? Honestly, that would mean he has some kind of strange comtempt for you that he wishes, and therefore initiated, that you were someone else. No, your man paying you any mind. At that moment it's about pussy.
Do you think that cheating has something to do with love? Well then you're an idiot, stop reading my literature now. The most loving man in the world can cheat on his wife, because as I said before, he won't be thinking about his wife while he catches herpes from the 53 year old hooker from the liquor store three blocks away. There is a moment, though, where you, the betrayed, are actually thought of. And it's right before the deed is initiated. When he gets that call that it's time, he gets things together and wonders if he should go with it, weighs the level of risk of getting caught, (huge factor) and, very briefly, what it would be like to trade the significant other in for the sideline girl.
Men are created with a spare almost everything. spare ball, spare eye, spare hand, one tongue, but a bunch of teeth. The most dangerous spare is the spare brain. The other factor in cheating, that every woman likes to accuse of being the number one factor in all cases, "The Other Head." The "Other Head" contains another brain, that was given the power to override all logic functions in the male brain. So many times it's all just about getting laid. Getting something "different." Does it really make sense? No. Not one bit. In reality, well, scientifically, a woman's orgasm is on average much more powerful than that of a man, but notoriously hard to accomplish by vaginal intercourse alone. When it comes down to it, no matter what position you get in, it's still an in and out motion until ejaculation. A male can't reach sexual satisfaction without orgasm, as a woman can. In most cases, males get much less out of the trade-off. So why would a man want something different, if he knows, in essence, it's almost the same thing?
Cheat. Ok, I was trying to do this whole thing where I start every paragraph with a word until the first word of every paragraph collectively read "Why do men cheat." In reality, it's very difficult to inconspicuously start a sentence with a verb, so I just put it there. It's done. Get over it. The last peice to the heart-breaking puzzle is... greed. The number One reason men cheat, is because they're being greedy. There's nothing wrong with what they have, despite their desparate attempts at justifying things by blaming "Staleness in their sexual relationship." They just want more. The ice cream and the cake. Greed.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The Perfect Girl...
Every guy goes out and seeks that perfect companion. We find them in all kinds of shapes, sizes and forms. Sometimes the perfect companion is a dog; silent, obedient, and always happy to see us. Sometimes the perfect companion is a guy friend, someone to make jokes and play around with, someone who's down to back you up when you're in need, or to calm you down when you're about to do something stupid. Sometimes the perfect companion is a pen and a notepad, or blog (don't look at me, I have friends...), or sketchpad, or canvas, somewhere to get it all out without judgement or discourse of any kind.
When it all boils down, though, we all seek out that dream girl. We come up with this picture of what she looks, smells, feels, sounds, and sometimes tastes like. We could tell you what she acts like, what she likes (it's usually just a list of what we like) and dislike (the same in reverse), what scares her, even her background. In this dance we call "The Chase", we have a lot of time to dream. We look for parts of that perfect girl in every girl we're with. "She would have her smile," "her lips," "her laugh," "her ass, no wait her ass". No matter what, we're always looking for her in each woman we see and pursue.
But the truth is, we know we'll never end up with that Call of Duty-playing, sandwich-making, nymphomaniac, space-giving, attention-giving, unbelievable-bodied, perfect-complexioned goddess we imagined was just waiting for us to save from all those uninteresting, wrong penis sized (too big or too small or too curved, we've got the Goldilocks combo), not as good as us guys out there vying for her attention. We know she's too good to be true. We know if we ever found her, we'd probably just end up fucking it up by not being good enough.
Actually that's not why we will/should never find that dream girl. It's because in a dream, there's no pooping, no farting, no puking, no looking at other guys, no stupid questions, no periods, no pregnancy scares, no emotional breakdowns, no annoying female friends, no clinginess, no waiting an hour after you were supposed to leave because she just started putting on her make-up, no crying inexplicably and stubbornly insisting that it stay "inexplicated". In the dream, there's no mirror, and there's no smoke. There's only magic.
But all hope isn't lost, dear reader. You can still end up getting your happily ever after. Minus the ever. Fact is, we usually end up with someone. Someone who we're perfectly happy with for 5 years or 55. She doesn't play Call of Duty, but loves watching you play through. And asks you funny questions like "Why don't you use that blow up thingy you had last time?" Or she hates when you go to those football games with "all those big guys and you're the tiniest one out there. You're going to get hurt." But she nurses your wounds and celebrates with you every time you come home with a win. She takes forever to put on her makeup, but as soon as you see her when she's done, all of your impatience goes out of the window. Don't worry my friend. You're going to run into woman after woman after girl after girl. They'll all have something or another that your last one didn't have, but one day you'll find the one. She might not be your dream girl, but she's perfect for you.
When it all boils down, though, we all seek out that dream girl. We come up with this picture of what she looks, smells, feels, sounds, and sometimes tastes like. We could tell you what she acts like, what she likes (it's usually just a list of what we like) and dislike (the same in reverse), what scares her, even her background. In this dance we call "The Chase", we have a lot of time to dream. We look for parts of that perfect girl in every girl we're with. "She would have her smile," "her lips," "her laugh," "her ass, no wait her ass". No matter what, we're always looking for her in each woman we see and pursue.
But the truth is, we know we'll never end up with that Call of Duty-playing, sandwich-making, nymphomaniac, space-giving, attention-giving, unbelievable-bodied, perfect-complexioned goddess we imagined was just waiting for us to save from all those uninteresting, wrong penis sized (too big or too small or too curved, we've got the Goldilocks combo), not as good as us guys out there vying for her attention. We know she's too good to be true. We know if we ever found her, we'd probably just end up fucking it up by not being good enough.
Actually that's not why we will/should never find that dream girl. It's because in a dream, there's no pooping, no farting, no puking, no looking at other guys, no stupid questions, no periods, no pregnancy scares, no emotional breakdowns, no annoying female friends, no clinginess, no waiting an hour after you were supposed to leave because she just started putting on her make-up, no crying inexplicably and stubbornly insisting that it stay "inexplicated". In the dream, there's no mirror, and there's no smoke. There's only magic.
But all hope isn't lost, dear reader. You can still end up getting your happily ever after. Minus the ever. Fact is, we usually end up with someone. Someone who we're perfectly happy with for 5 years or 55. She doesn't play Call of Duty, but loves watching you play through. And asks you funny questions like "Why don't you use that blow up thingy you had last time?" Or she hates when you go to those football games with "all those big guys and you're the tiniest one out there. You're going to get hurt." But she nurses your wounds and celebrates with you every time you come home with a win. She takes forever to put on her makeup, but as soon as you see her when she's done, all of your impatience goes out of the window. Don't worry my friend. You're going to run into woman after woman after girl after girl. They'll all have something or another that your last one didn't have, but one day you'll find the one. She might not be your dream girl, but she's perfect for you.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Social networking...
There's something strange happening to our first world country. I have more interaction with people I care about through computers and mini-telephonetic computers (cell phones), than I've had in person. I have a bit of an excuse, I'm away from home and I don't want to lose touch with the people I care about. The problem I see is that so many people spend so much time seeking out a connection through status updates and tweets that they stop putting forth the effort to actually go out and see someone in person. No one tries to go over someone's house and party with some friends in person. It seems like genuine friendship is being replaced by video chatting and instant messaging. Even online dating has boomed recently.
Now I know that sometimes it's just not worth getting off the couch. Sometimes it's not even worth getting out of bed, to tell someone they're wrong, or to go flirt with that chick you knew from high school who managed to make it past the get fat or get pregnant-challenge that it seems like every single girl from our high schools encounters (and most fail this challenge miserably). I mean, honestly, sometimes you are better off staying inside and not spending all of the money you don't really have, on mistakes, rejections, regrets, and hangovers, but we need to learn how to stop being so averse to risk. Let's take a night out to hang with family and friends. Let's go get that workout we've been postponing for Call of Duty. Let's actually try to have sex with another human being instead of settling for porn and a Kleenex.
I sound like a really old man. Really, really old. I need to go get laid...
Now I know that sometimes it's just not worth getting off the couch. Sometimes it's not even worth getting out of bed, to tell someone they're wrong, or to go flirt with that chick you knew from high school who managed to make it past the get fat or get pregnant-challenge that it seems like every single girl from our high schools encounters (and most fail this challenge miserably). I mean, honestly, sometimes you are better off staying inside and not spending all of the money you don't really have, on mistakes, rejections, regrets, and hangovers, but we need to learn how to stop being so averse to risk. Let's take a night out to hang with family and friends. Let's go get that workout we've been postponing for Call of Duty. Let's actually try to have sex with another human being instead of settling for porn and a Kleenex.
I sound like a really old man. Really, really old. I need to go get laid...
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
What men want...
Men are fairly simple creatures. We don't try and make things glamorize our wants and needs. We want/need sex with women (usually). We want food. We want sleep. We want to be in charge. This is your stereotypical guy. When it comes to women, we have more and more things in common among us. When you ask us what's on our minds, if we like you, we'll make something up. If we don't we'll tell you the truth. (The answer is nothing. The answer is always nothing.)
So let me ruin something for ladies out there. This is something you women might not want to accept.
MEN ARE NOT COMPLICATED. We don't have any complicated hopes and dreams. Most of us don't even have a dream job. Our dream is literally: Good job, hot wife... money, son that kind of looks like us, and a beautiful daughter who becomes the richest nun in history. Not complicated and nor is it impossible. It's very possible.
We also dream of our wives being the very complicated, needy creatures you are. Controlling everything that we don't want to. We don't need the white picket fence, that thing could be a moat with alligator dragons, or a stone wall, as long as we have a yard. We don't need curtains as long as you don't have a rule against our neighbors seeing us have sex.
I wish I had more to write here, but like I said, it's not that complicated.
So let me ruin something for ladies out there. This is something you women might not want to accept.
MEN ARE NOT COMPLICATED. We don't have any complicated hopes and dreams. Most of us don't even have a dream job. Our dream is literally: Good job, hot wife... money, son that kind of looks like us, and a beautiful daughter who becomes the richest nun in history. Not complicated and nor is it impossible. It's very possible.
We also dream of our wives being the very complicated, needy creatures you are. Controlling everything that we don't want to. We don't need the white picket fence, that thing could be a moat with alligator dragons, or a stone wall, as long as we have a yard. We don't need curtains as long as you don't have a rule against our neighbors seeing us have sex.
I wish I had more to write here, but like I said, it's not that complicated.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Broken Mirror...
People often blame the media for their self-esteem problems. They say the media dangles supermodels in their faces on ads and in commercials. They say that this is what the media is "brainwashing" them to believe is beauty and sexy. But that's not true. The media only uses things you already think is attractive, or what's attractive to the mass majority to get the message across that their product can either contribute to you being attractive, or in the case of fast food, that their product isn't a direct link to unattractiveness.
At no point do they tell you in Victoria's Secret commercials "Get slimmer to fit into the new fall line of Victoria's Secret bras and panties." No. Any woman who can't fit into Victoria's Secret's sizes either considers them assholes for not making more sizes, or feels like they are trying to subliminally tell them to lose weight. Or both. But if you think that, then you're not happy with who you are. And that's not the fault of the advertisements or the media. It's not the fault of "society" or even the guys in the bar who go for your friend instead of you.
If you're bigger or smaller than most women, it's not society's job to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. When you look in the mirror, you need to learn to be happy with what you see. That doesn't mean you have to be happy with being overweight or underweight. If you want to be slimmer, then there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. If you want to gain weight, or change something about yourself because that's what makes you happy, there's nothing wrong with that at all. You just have to be ready to work towards it. If you're slim, eat more, (and you might want to exercise so that you can maintain control of weight gain and distribution), and if you're not as slim as you want to be, you eat better, and exercise. You won't get instant results. Not every cure to every problem is instantaneous. But, you will see progress. And every time you look in that mirror and see your progress, I guarantee you that you will feel ten times better than when you didn't.
Society doesn't know what's best for you or what will make you happy. Not those diet nuts, or those big women on TV talking about being proud of being big. If you're happy being big, then congratulations. If you're happy being small, then congratulations. If you're happy somewhere in the middle, then congratulations. If you aren't happy looking like a supermodel, and instead you want to look like a centaur, you do what you have to to get those horse legs. Don't forget the penis though. It's probably the best part, like going from two legs to five.
The point is, it isn't the worst thing to want to change who you are. What's bad is not doing something about it and just giving up.Whether it's progress to where you want to be, or you are exactly where you want to be, the most important thing in life, is being happy with what you see in the mirror.
At no point do they tell you in Victoria's Secret commercials "Get slimmer to fit into the new fall line of Victoria's Secret bras and panties." No. Any woman who can't fit into Victoria's Secret's sizes either considers them assholes for not making more sizes, or feels like they are trying to subliminally tell them to lose weight. Or both. But if you think that, then you're not happy with who you are. And that's not the fault of the advertisements or the media. It's not the fault of "society" or even the guys in the bar who go for your friend instead of you.
If you're bigger or smaller than most women, it's not society's job to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. When you look in the mirror, you need to learn to be happy with what you see. That doesn't mean you have to be happy with being overweight or underweight. If you want to be slimmer, then there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. If you want to gain weight, or change something about yourself because that's what makes you happy, there's nothing wrong with that at all. You just have to be ready to work towards it. If you're slim, eat more, (and you might want to exercise so that you can maintain control of weight gain and distribution), and if you're not as slim as you want to be, you eat better, and exercise. You won't get instant results. Not every cure to every problem is instantaneous. But, you will see progress. And every time you look in that mirror and see your progress, I guarantee you that you will feel ten times better than when you didn't.
Society doesn't know what's best for you or what will make you happy. Not those diet nuts, or those big women on TV talking about being proud of being big. If you're happy being big, then congratulations. If you're happy being small, then congratulations. If you're happy somewhere in the middle, then congratulations. If you aren't happy looking like a supermodel, and instead you want to look like a centaur, you do what you have to to get those horse legs. Don't forget the penis though. It's probably the best part, like going from two legs to five.
The point is, it isn't the worst thing to want to change who you are. What's bad is not doing something about it and just giving up.Whether it's progress to where you want to be, or you are exactly where you want to be, the most important thing in life, is being happy with what you see in the mirror.
Sock Diaries: 12/8/2012
I promised her I wouldn't write about her, so you'll just have to wonder who and what's going on there... but there's kind of a her there now. And honestly, I don't know where it's headed, but you know me, always down for a joy ride. But I do want to talk about a her. It's a her I care about deeply, but I'm no longer in a position to help her. Recent events have enlightened me to the fact that she's getting played by the guy playing her boyfriend. I saw it before but was too blinded by my own problems with my recent break-up to see it in the real situation it is. Truth is, there's not a thing I can do. And so I won't. I love her kind of like a sister, but it's time for her to fall or fly. I've spent so much of my life sacrificing my own happiness for the happiness of women. My guy friends never get into bullshit like this. I've done so much in my life to please certain women and then try to sneak some happiness in undercover, I've realized I have no time or energy for things that don't make me completely happy. If it isn't worth the effort or the distraction, I have to stay focused. I know what I want, and where I want to be. If anything holds me back, I have to either push through it, go around it, or let it go.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Sock Diaries: 12/1/2012
Judgement has been passed... I was talking to an ex girlfriend recently, and apparently, I'm a womanizing, manipulative asshole. Those weren't her words exactly, but that was the final verdict. We broke up four years ago, and I remembered it as kind of rough and tumble thing, I was desperate for attention and affection, but she was in the kind of household that didn't allow for much time away and together. I remember we had some rough times, mainly me complaining about not having enough time with her, and I did some stupid things in the middle, but, I didn't think it was the worst thing in the world. I got her parents to loose the chains a little. I got them to accept me as her boyfriend, and accept her having a boyfriend. But I did one very, very stupid thing at the end. As I tend to do when I turn my brain off for some poor reason or another.
I thought for a while on the good things, like the first time we said I love you. Waiting for her everyday on the bus stop when she went home. Meeting her family for the first time and being introduced to the cartoon Avatar: The Last Airbender. Coming in to our little after school program so early just so I could squeeze out every second I could with her. Laughing, playing, sneaking around (until we got caught by her parents) these were the fun things. The trip to New York when she told me she loved me for the first time. It was the first time any girl had ever said those words to me in person. I remember that moment so clearly, I can smell her perfume. She was there for me when my Grandmother died.
But then it all ended. Partially because of one very specific action, and partly because I had become extremely bitter at not having any way to see her after our after-school program ended. I would argue, she would try to calm me down. I lashed out at her and things just got out of hand. And for that I'm sorry.
I had more relationships, short and insignificant. I had crushes, and very close-calls, but then, I fell in love again. A girl who knew my ex and loved my writing. I had only met her once, and from what she told me, she hated me. Then she found my blog and began to learn the side of me that I keep secret from everyone and post publicly on the internet. Long story short, that ended, and THEN I fucked up. Kudos to me for holding out.
So now, here I am, womanizing, manipulative asshole. A description far away from the one I used to dream about having when I was younger: "Perfect boyfriend". I didn't make much when I was in that first relationship, but I did do what I could with all that I had. And in making more in my next relationship, I made sure that my lady wanted for absolutely nothing. And I still will. I stand by the fact that my lady my Queen and I am her King. When I am happy, I will make sure that my lady feels like royalty. I know that sounds pretentious, but it's true. My most recent ex went out of her way to always make sure I felt the love, even when I was in Afghanistan. And so I did the same.
But all of that aside... womanizing, manipulative asshole. This bothered me for a while. I thought to myself, I'm trying to be a great guy. I'm trying to do the right thing and make people forget about the stupid shit that I'd done in my past. I wondered if I would forever be defined and remembered by my mistakes. Should I even try anymore, if my mistakes will follow me forever? Should I just give up and be the bad guy? But then I took a piece of advice I give to other people when they're stressing over other people's opinions of them.
I picked my head up and said, with passion and conviction, with pride and self-discovery...
"Fuck her, I'm awesome."
I thought for a while on the good things, like the first time we said I love you. Waiting for her everyday on the bus stop when she went home. Meeting her family for the first time and being introduced to the cartoon Avatar: The Last Airbender. Coming in to our little after school program so early just so I could squeeze out every second I could with her. Laughing, playing, sneaking around (until we got caught by her parents) these were the fun things. The trip to New York when she told me she loved me for the first time. It was the first time any girl had ever said those words to me in person. I remember that moment so clearly, I can smell her perfume. She was there for me when my Grandmother died.
But then it all ended. Partially because of one very specific action, and partly because I had become extremely bitter at not having any way to see her after our after-school program ended. I would argue, she would try to calm me down. I lashed out at her and things just got out of hand. And for that I'm sorry.
I had more relationships, short and insignificant. I had crushes, and very close-calls, but then, I fell in love again. A girl who knew my ex and loved my writing. I had only met her once, and from what she told me, she hated me. Then she found my blog and began to learn the side of me that I keep secret from everyone and post publicly on the internet. Long story short, that ended, and THEN I fucked up. Kudos to me for holding out.
So now, here I am, womanizing, manipulative asshole. A description far away from the one I used to dream about having when I was younger: "Perfect boyfriend". I didn't make much when I was in that first relationship, but I did do what I could with all that I had. And in making more in my next relationship, I made sure that my lady wanted for absolutely nothing. And I still will. I stand by the fact that my lady my Queen and I am her King. When I am happy, I will make sure that my lady feels like royalty. I know that sounds pretentious, but it's true. My most recent ex went out of her way to always make sure I felt the love, even when I was in Afghanistan. And so I did the same.
But all of that aside... womanizing, manipulative asshole. This bothered me for a while. I thought to myself, I'm trying to be a great guy. I'm trying to do the right thing and make people forget about the stupid shit that I'd done in my past. I wondered if I would forever be defined and remembered by my mistakes. Should I even try anymore, if my mistakes will follow me forever? Should I just give up and be the bad guy? But then I took a piece of advice I give to other people when they're stressing over other people's opinions of them.
I picked my head up and said, with passion and conviction, with pride and self-discovery...
"Fuck her, I'm awesome."
Thursday, November 29, 2012
To the ones we've loved and lost...
This one here goes out to the ladies in my life. I would like to extend an apology from the male race to all of the women that we've loved and lost, because we are jackasses. To those women who cheated or left us for the guy with money or a better job, or the guy who you spent time with while we were out of town, you cuntbags can go fuck yourselves. But to those women on whom we kind-of-almost-cheated-on, or who we broke-up with having nearly no decent reason, or for any of the ones we've done wrong on one level or another
I've lost two very good women so far in my life due to my own actions. No one's to say things wouldn't have fallen apart somewhere later down the line for one reason or another, and I'm not saying I missed out on my soul-mate because I wanted a little "strange". What I'm saying is that I decided to end these two relationships because the timing wasn't right. The relationship I got out of most recently had all the makings of a beautiful Hollywood love story. A soldier who goes away to Afghanistan, a girl back home who worries every night and waits by the computer for the next chance to make sure her soldier is safe for one more day. She was amazing, this I have no doubt. But the timing wasn't right and I couldn't be in a relationship anymore. It's almost that simple. After the relationship was over I did somethings to her that I regret, that I don't really like talking about, not even on here. But long story short, when it was all said and done, I did her wrong. And I've done similar things to a girl from long ago.
Guys do things like this much more often than not, I'm ashamed to say. I'm not saying all guys cheat, I'm not saying all guys do terrible things behind your back, but I am saying that guys do stupid things. I know this might not be ground breaking news, but I am open to revealing to you the secret behind why we do these things. It's because we're guys.
Now, now guys and gals, before you get up in arms and get all mad at me for dragging you all the way through three paragraphs of blog to a massively disappointing, anticlimactic truth. But that's all I offer. Truth. I don't promise passion, pleasure, drugs, sex, or violence; I can only offer truth. The truth is, sometimes guys do dumb things because it's in our nature. We can spend all this time justifying our every action, and making sure we get everything right, but eventually, you need to breathe, take the girdle off, stray from the lines and chase the desires of the dog inside. The stupidity of men will never stop, it will only change. I'm sorry that I don't have a good excuse for us. But hey, at the end of the day, we still love you.
So, understand, women, our stupidity does not mean we don't love you, or that we have a habit of doing wrong. It just means that sometimes we leave our brains at home and go out, and then we come home and try to get it back before you wake up. But it never works out that way.
I've lost two very good women so far in my life due to my own actions. No one's to say things wouldn't have fallen apart somewhere later down the line for one reason or another, and I'm not saying I missed out on my soul-mate because I wanted a little "strange". What I'm saying is that I decided to end these two relationships because the timing wasn't right. The relationship I got out of most recently had all the makings of a beautiful Hollywood love story. A soldier who goes away to Afghanistan, a girl back home who worries every night and waits by the computer for the next chance to make sure her soldier is safe for one more day. She was amazing, this I have no doubt. But the timing wasn't right and I couldn't be in a relationship anymore. It's almost that simple. After the relationship was over I did somethings to her that I regret, that I don't really like talking about, not even on here. But long story short, when it was all said and done, I did her wrong. And I've done similar things to a girl from long ago.
Guys do things like this much more often than not, I'm ashamed to say. I'm not saying all guys cheat, I'm not saying all guys do terrible things behind your back, but I am saying that guys do stupid things. I know this might not be ground breaking news, but I am open to revealing to you the secret behind why we do these things. It's because we're guys.
Now, now guys and gals, before you get up in arms and get all mad at me for dragging you all the way through three paragraphs of blog to a massively disappointing, anticlimactic truth. But that's all I offer. Truth. I don't promise passion, pleasure, drugs, sex, or violence; I can only offer truth. The truth is, sometimes guys do dumb things because it's in our nature. We can spend all this time justifying our every action, and making sure we get everything right, but eventually, you need to breathe, take the girdle off, stray from the lines and chase the desires of the dog inside. The stupidity of men will never stop, it will only change. I'm sorry that I don't have a good excuse for us. But hey, at the end of the day, we still love you.
So, understand, women, our stupidity does not mean we don't love you, or that we have a habit of doing wrong. It just means that sometimes we leave our brains at home and go out, and then we come home and try to get it back before you wake up. But it never works out that way.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Gather around, gentlemen, we need to talk...
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?
Okay, okay, okay, let me back track. I'm sorry for yelling , gentlemen. But I've been running into a very, VERY large amount of guys aiming for the stars. On the other side of the planet. I mean just arrows flying straight into the dirt. It seems like everyone has just given up and is just hooking up with anything willing with legs and a vagina. And I'm fairly certain there are more people who are flexible on the vagina part than legs.
Look, gentlemen, the end of the world is not so close that you have to settle for the first girl willing to go down on you. Even if the world did end tomorrow, you won't feel fulfilled settling for a girl you barely know and marginally like, and can't ever look her in the eye after sex. Everyday, I'm seeing guys with girls who are moderately unattractive. That's perfectly fine. Being with someone more for their personality than their looks is encouraged and healthy. But the majority of the women I've seen have just SHIT attitudes and horrible personalities. Crazy ones, stuck up ones, mean ones, fake nice ones, boring ones, over excited ones, big ones, small ones, blue ones and purple ones, and a few who had no personalities at all... I mean it's just kind of saddening to see. I always thought that the sweetest girls were the girls who felt like they had to prove that they were just as pretty as the other girls, just on the inside. And I really liked those girls, you know? Those girls had charm. And no matter what you wanted to say about how big they were or skinny, or dark or pale, you felt like shit for thinking that after a minute of talking to them. Those are the girls I was proud of you all for dating and hooking up with. But when did we enter this Disney world where ugly on the outside meant ugly on the inside? And since when was that the "cool" thing to do? Having someone there at the end of the day is nice, but if that someone is NOTHING like what you need in your life, be that a motivator, a cheerleader, someone to cheer for, a partner, a boss, a subordinate, a homie, a mother a father a sister a brother, shit, a pet, I don't know what you need specifically, but if that girl isn't it, you don't settle and you don't stop looking.
I understand that we all find ourselves in sex droughts or full of alcohol and out of time at the bar, or on the rebound from a long relationship, but that doesn't mean that you should be scraping the bottom of the barrel just because it's easier to stack up the chunks. MOVE ON TO THE NEXT GOD DAMNED BARREL. It's LITERALLY full of options. Good ones. Even great ones. You just have to take a minute to sift through a barrel full of shit to find those diamonds that the world crapped out.
Okay, okay, okay, let me back track. I'm sorry for yelling , gentlemen. But I've been running into a very, VERY large amount of guys aiming for the stars. On the other side of the planet. I mean just arrows flying straight into the dirt. It seems like everyone has just given up and is just hooking up with anything willing with legs and a vagina. And I'm fairly certain there are more people who are flexible on the vagina part than legs.
Look, gentlemen, the end of the world is not so close that you have to settle for the first girl willing to go down on you. Even if the world did end tomorrow, you won't feel fulfilled settling for a girl you barely know and marginally like, and can't ever look her in the eye after sex. Everyday, I'm seeing guys with girls who are moderately unattractive. That's perfectly fine. Being with someone more for their personality than their looks is encouraged and healthy. But the majority of the women I've seen have just SHIT attitudes and horrible personalities. Crazy ones, stuck up ones, mean ones, fake nice ones, boring ones, over excited ones, big ones, small ones, blue ones and purple ones, and a few who had no personalities at all... I mean it's just kind of saddening to see. I always thought that the sweetest girls were the girls who felt like they had to prove that they were just as pretty as the other girls, just on the inside. And I really liked those girls, you know? Those girls had charm. And no matter what you wanted to say about how big they were or skinny, or dark or pale, you felt like shit for thinking that after a minute of talking to them. Those are the girls I was proud of you all for dating and hooking up with. But when did we enter this Disney world where ugly on the outside meant ugly on the inside? And since when was that the "cool" thing to do? Having someone there at the end of the day is nice, but if that someone is NOTHING like what you need in your life, be that a motivator, a cheerleader, someone to cheer for, a partner, a boss, a subordinate, a homie, a mother a father a sister a brother, shit, a pet, I don't know what you need specifically, but if that girl isn't it, you don't settle and you don't stop looking.
I understand that we all find ourselves in sex droughts or full of alcohol and out of time at the bar, or on the rebound from a long relationship, but that doesn't mean that you should be scraping the bottom of the barrel just because it's easier to stack up the chunks. MOVE ON TO THE NEXT GOD DAMNED BARREL. It's LITERALLY full of options. Good ones. Even great ones. You just have to take a minute to sift through a barrel full of shit to find those diamonds that the world crapped out.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Sock Diaries: 11/22/2012
I just realized something. It's been like, a month and a half since I've gone anywhere to do anything. I'm becoming a Hobbit. Fuck. I mean since one of my going out friends became a pot head and then left, it's been mostly takeout food and porn. That chick didn't work out. She... has some serious issues that I remember from before, but chose to pretend didn't happen. At this point I just feel like I'm wasting time. In between hitting the gym, and working, I'm barely alive. When I got back from Afghanistan, living was my number one priority. I broke up with my girlfriend of two years, I had sex with a few people I shouldn't have, an orgy, a Norwegian girl, an asian sergeant, and I came really close to taking this white girl's virginity at a college party. And now... here I am, alone on thanksgiving, with the highlight of my day about to be Call of Duty, God of War, and a giant breakfast that I'll be cooking myself. Okay, it's pretty awesome, but I mean, what did I do last night? You know? There were no women, real ones, generally. A lot of porn, though. Definitely a lot of porn... A little bit today. I may have a problem, but, one thing at a time. I'm falling deep into drought mode. I'm experiencing a larger amount of uncontrolled and unprovoked erections throughout the day. Just unnecessary boners. So, I feel like I've come to a crossroads at this point. I could just give in to a life of being a solitary force of silent awesome... or I could vow to bone three different races of women in the next three weeks. I think an epiphany has been had.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Fear
Everyone is afraid of something. Whether it's spiders, heights, or public speaking. I recently got the opportunity to see a man who had been to Afghanistan and in multiple firefights, and had been trained as an infantry sniper, give a presentation from note cards with his hands trembling like a woman being proposed to. Fear is a very strange thing. We all fear a lot of things, but there are a few things we fear the most. I'm not talking about a "greatest" fear, but those things that we find ourselves in danger of most often. Disappointing someone we care about, or no longer being as good at something we used to be good at, or, most common of all, being alone.
People have learned to fear dying alone more than they fear dying itself. That's partly because throughout life, we're taught to look at death as the inevitable end, whereas being alone is treated as the thing to be cured or fixed or avoided. They say "there's someone out there for everyone" but the truth is, there isn't. There are well over 6 billion people on the planet. Some people are gay or lesbian, some people have sex with animals. Intentionally. That would mean that there's a horse out there somewhere, just dying to find the right cowboy. The truth is, life is messy, but sometimes the coin lands on it's side, sometimes you find that person you never have a fight with, and you hate their guts, or sometimes you end up with that one you can't stand but you love to death. And sometimes, it's just complicated. People always try and seek out that person that they can be in a "perfect" relationship with but as I always say, "perfection" is an opinion, imperfection is a fact. Everything has flaws, but that doesn't mean that it isn't perfect to someone. But it takes time to find that perfect collection of imperfections. And the fact is, it's not guaranteed.
There's one thing among many other things that's guaranteed in life. And that's that at some point, you're going to be alone. That is what people fear the most. Being alone. They're told to find a "happiness" and are painted a picture of happy couples and wedding rings. They're told that being alone in the end is the worst ending of them all. That the love of another is that one thing they've been missing their whole life and once they have it, they'll be complete.
That is the biggest lie that the media sells to you outside of the fact that it's safe to consume large amounts of chinese food. That shit will kill you. The hardest thing you could ever do will be to learn to be alone.
When you're independent, you learn how to enjoy focus on liking what you see in the mirror and not just what everyone else sees when they look at you. You spend your whole life measuring yourself on how much someone else values you you forget that you could set your own price tag.
People have learned to fear dying alone more than they fear dying itself. That's partly because throughout life, we're taught to look at death as the inevitable end, whereas being alone is treated as the thing to be cured or fixed or avoided. They say "there's someone out there for everyone" but the truth is, there isn't. There are well over 6 billion people on the planet. Some people are gay or lesbian, some people have sex with animals. Intentionally. That would mean that there's a horse out there somewhere, just dying to find the right cowboy. The truth is, life is messy, but sometimes the coin lands on it's side, sometimes you find that person you never have a fight with, and you hate their guts, or sometimes you end up with that one you can't stand but you love to death. And sometimes, it's just complicated. People always try and seek out that person that they can be in a "perfect" relationship with but as I always say, "perfection" is an opinion, imperfection is a fact. Everything has flaws, but that doesn't mean that it isn't perfect to someone. But it takes time to find that perfect collection of imperfections. And the fact is, it's not guaranteed.
There's one thing among many other things that's guaranteed in life. And that's that at some point, you're going to be alone. That is what people fear the most. Being alone. They're told to find a "happiness" and are painted a picture of happy couples and wedding rings. They're told that being alone in the end is the worst ending of them all. That the love of another is that one thing they've been missing their whole life and once they have it, they'll be complete.
That is the biggest lie that the media sells to you outside of the fact that it's safe to consume large amounts of chinese food. That shit will kill you. The hardest thing you could ever do will be to learn to be alone.
When you're independent, you learn how to enjoy focus on liking what you see in the mirror and not just what everyone else sees when they look at you. You spend your whole life measuring yourself on how much someone else values you you forget that you could set your own price tag.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Sock Diaries: 11/12/2012
So... there's a problem. There's been a return of an old female friend. Not an ex-girlfriend or anything, but someone who wants to get close. She's looking for a relationship. She's cute, she's nice, it's just... I really don't want that right now. Honestly, I'm getting happier knowing that I'll be out of the country again soon. This is just too much. I mean, I like the company, and I really like the physical part, but I got out of a relationship for a reason.
I loved my ex, and on some levels, still do, but I'm over her, and I'm ready to move on. I'm happy she's happy, you know, got a job she loves, a guy she can obsess over, all these new things to obsess over like the Joker, and Childish Gambino, and... sex. All of which weren't there before I came around. I feel a lot like I left her in a good place in her life. That's cool and all but I mean I'm passed the whole captain save-a-... you know. I'm at a point where I need to focus on me and just relax. I mean I say all that just to say that I really don't want to be in a relationship. But I kinda like this chick... especially how convenient she is. I have three months left here and am in no mood to be trying to start up something new. I know that the smart move would be to just not contact her anymore and let the whole thing fizzle out. But then again, I haven't been laid since the Norwegian chick (Mmm... the Norwegian chick) and so that leaves me in a dilemma. I really want to narrow down the odds of me leaving the country without even having an American girl be the last taste on my tongue... (wow I sound like a sex-crazed dog). But I mean, come on, I'm only human. Everyone I know is getting laid, my friends, my ex, my ex before her, and my ex before her. I mean I had a hot streak after the break-up, with more quantity and quality in two weeks than I had before we got together. and then a drought, and all kinds of emotional turmoil dealing with loneliness, and being broke. It's about time I started having some fun.
I loved my ex, and on some levels, still do, but I'm over her, and I'm ready to move on. I'm happy she's happy, you know, got a job she loves, a guy she can obsess over, all these new things to obsess over like the Joker, and Childish Gambino, and... sex. All of which weren't there before I came around. I feel a lot like I left her in a good place in her life. That's cool and all but I mean I'm passed the whole captain save-a-... you know. I'm at a point where I need to focus on me and just relax. I mean I say all that just to say that I really don't want to be in a relationship. But I kinda like this chick... especially how convenient she is. I have three months left here and am in no mood to be trying to start up something new. I know that the smart move would be to just not contact her anymore and let the whole thing fizzle out. But then again, I haven't been laid since the Norwegian chick (Mmm... the Norwegian chick) and so that leaves me in a dilemma. I really want to narrow down the odds of me leaving the country without even having an American girl be the last taste on my tongue... (wow I sound like a sex-crazed dog). But I mean, come on, I'm only human. Everyone I know is getting laid, my friends, my ex, my ex before her, and my ex before her. I mean I had a hot streak after the break-up, with more quantity and quality in two weeks than I had before we got together. and then a drought, and all kinds of emotional turmoil dealing with loneliness, and being broke. It's about time I started having some fun.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Sock Diaries: 11/10/2012
I just watched a movie about the end of the world. Not like the Day After Tomorrow or anything. The movie was called "Seeking a Friend for the End of the World." In it, they release the news that a meteor is on the way to earth and they've failed for the last time to prevent it's landing. The world goes crazy, and the main character sits in a car with his wife, who, on listening to the news on the radio, and hearing they have three weeks left until the end of the world, opens the car door and sprints away in silence.
There's a lot of talk through the movie about dying alone. Through the movie I began to think about the decisions I've made in my life through the fear of ending up alone. I've gotten into relationships and situations that I found literally no happiness in with the person, just the relief that I wouldn't be alone at the end of the day. I've ruined good things by becoming desperate and scared after relationships had ended.
I have actually truly loved and lost, but by the end of that movie, seeing the characters develop and find what it was that they wanted most before the end of the world, I felt something I'd never felt before. I realized that if I died where I am right now, I would be okay. I don't need someone to tell me they love me before I close my eyes at night anymore, or to hold that special someone close in my arms. I've done it. And it was amazing. Now, I just want to write and live. I'm enjoying knowing who I am and where I'm going. Even if I go it alone. Strangely enough, I'm happier now, than I've been in a very, very long time...
There's a lot of talk through the movie about dying alone. Through the movie I began to think about the decisions I've made in my life through the fear of ending up alone. I've gotten into relationships and situations that I found literally no happiness in with the person, just the relief that I wouldn't be alone at the end of the day. I've ruined good things by becoming desperate and scared after relationships had ended.
I have actually truly loved and lost, but by the end of that movie, seeing the characters develop and find what it was that they wanted most before the end of the world, I felt something I'd never felt before. I realized that if I died where I am right now, I would be okay. I don't need someone to tell me they love me before I close my eyes at night anymore, or to hold that special someone close in my arms. I've done it. And it was amazing. Now, I just want to write and live. I'm enjoying knowing who I am and where I'm going. Even if I go it alone. Strangely enough, I'm happier now, than I've been in a very, very long time...
Thursday, November 8, 2012
What a girl wants...
Women are complicated as shit. That's why I made this blog. The strangest thing I noticed about talking to women is that they want you to want them, but act like you don't. That's because over thousands of years of "evolution", things have gotten, well, complicated. Women know that it's a buyer's market, and they're the ones with the cash. This sets up for an interesting little dance between men and women. Men become a little more accustomed to rejection. If we don't put ourselves out there, we will always lose out to the guy who will. Women, on the other hand are accustomed to being chased. They like to know that they can compare to other women, when all they can do is sit and wait on the dogs to catch the scent. Women rarely go out of their way to put themselves on the line to get a guy, because rejection to most women is way more painful than you would think. We all know rejection sucks, but for guys, it's a momentary lapse, an occupational hazard if you will. For women, rejection can turn their world upside down for a while. They rethink EVERYTHING. The difference in preparation for rejection for women and men is something we've known about for a long time. You ever seen a woman start preparing to go out anywhere? If they plan on being somewhere at 8, they start preparing at 4, and aren't ready until 9. A guy would Start preparing at 730 and be ready by 735. Women like to know they look their best, and when a guy who spent 45 seconds choosing an outfit and 35 seconds putting it on rejects them, after they took the day off work to get an eight hour jump on the eight hour process of getting ready.
So women want you to notice. But they won't tell you, and they won't go out of their way to talk to you to let you know that you have a chance. But they also don't want you to look desperate. Women want you to approach them like you have other options. They want you to try, but not too hard. Yeah... it's a complicated process.
I would like to say that I had the mathematical equation to teach you the happy medium but you can never really predict where a woman's preferences will actually land. In the end, the closest you can come to landing in that happy medium is confidence.
So women want you to notice. But they won't tell you, and they won't go out of their way to talk to you to let you know that you have a chance. But they also don't want you to look desperate. Women want you to approach them like you have other options. They want you to try, but not too hard. Yeah... it's a complicated process.
I would like to say that I had the mathematical equation to teach you the happy medium but you can never really predict where a woman's preferences will actually land. In the end, the closest you can come to landing in that happy medium is confidence.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
The One, not the One-hundred...
A friend of mine recently confessed crimes of infidelity to his long distance girlfriend/fiancee. He was distraught about it, having just seen the "light" and realizing how wrong he had been, knowing how the trust was broken, and that he couldn't do anything about it. The scumbag's philosophy in this scenario would be "What she don't know, won't hurt her. He's dumb for telling her." To which I would reply, "Probably."
But of course the bigger mistake would have been the infidelities themselves. But I digress. The real issue that I saw was not a question of his question path of decisions, but more, his sadness about them. I asked about the glum disposition of my chum, and he replied that he was sad about cheating. I asked if she would forgive him, he said he didn't know. I asked if she seemed like she would, and he said yes. I then asked what there could possibly be to be sad about at this point, to which he rebutted, "I just don't know if she's going to want to get revenge." I was confused and asked why he would think she would want to. To which my blue brother replied, "Because that's what most girls would want to do."
This was the part of the conversation that peaked my interest the most. I mean, it's not like he was just engaged to some chick he met on the internet a week ago. He'd known this girl for a while before he popped the question. So why ever would he group her in a way as to compare her to "most" girls?
The first thing I wanted to say was, you should learn to trust someone, and never bring your old baggage onto a new flight. But another idea popped into my head, much more pressing.
No one should feel like they've "settled" after they've already promised the rest of their life to someone. People commonly use the phrase "measure twice, cut once", but it has never been more relevant than when talking about a soul mate. You never buy the cow before trying the milk. You never stick it in if you didn't sniff it first. You get the point. If you can't imagine, even for a second, that you could spend every waking moment of the rest of your life with the one you love, you either need to rethink some things, or slow it the hell down. The most important thing that happens to you in life is finding that one in a hundred. But you just make sure it's the One. Not the One-Hundred.
But of course the bigger mistake would have been the infidelities themselves. But I digress. The real issue that I saw was not a question of his question path of decisions, but more, his sadness about them. I asked about the glum disposition of my chum, and he replied that he was sad about cheating. I asked if she would forgive him, he said he didn't know. I asked if she seemed like she would, and he said yes. I then asked what there could possibly be to be sad about at this point, to which he rebutted, "I just don't know if she's going to want to get revenge." I was confused and asked why he would think she would want to. To which my blue brother replied, "Because that's what most girls would want to do."
This was the part of the conversation that peaked my interest the most. I mean, it's not like he was just engaged to some chick he met on the internet a week ago. He'd known this girl for a while before he popped the question. So why ever would he group her in a way as to compare her to "most" girls?
The first thing I wanted to say was, you should learn to trust someone, and never bring your old baggage onto a new flight. But another idea popped into my head, much more pressing.
No one should feel like they've "settled" after they've already promised the rest of their life to someone. People commonly use the phrase "measure twice, cut once", but it has never been more relevant than when talking about a soul mate. You never buy the cow before trying the milk. You never stick it in if you didn't sniff it first. You get the point. If you can't imagine, even for a second, that you could spend every waking moment of the rest of your life with the one you love, you either need to rethink some things, or slow it the hell down. The most important thing that happens to you in life is finding that one in a hundred. But you just make sure it's the One. Not the One-Hundred.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Lose-Change...
Loss is a part of life. It happens in various ways, from death to life. When I say life, I mean people traveling away, or stopping travel. Loss is an inevitable event that we all go through, because it's a part of change, and as they say, the only thing that doesn't change is that things change. In change, you lose one thing for another, whether it be a hot, crazy girlfriend, to a sane, not so hot one, or a girlfriend to a dog... however that transaction may happen..... no judgements. You can't have Change without loss, nor loss without change.
When you grow up in poverty, you come to know loss and change as complete antonyms. You've already lost a lot, and if you lose anymore, it would be a bad thing, but you would love to have a change. And when you're the only one of your friends to run off to the military out of high school so that you could have a roof over your head, you become quite accustomed to loss and change. But that doesn't make either any easier.
I've recently lost the company of some good friends, not to death, but to life. They've moved on, and I'll lose more when I move on. I look back on my past and see my friends, family, and girlfriends. I see regrets and successes and (reluctantly) feel like I wouldn't change a thing. It's all for the best.
Things change, we grow up and go on. There will be new friends, girlfriends, and even new family. And sometimes there will be old friends, girlfriends, and hopefully, old family. It isn't easy to lose someone you care about, but it does get easier to cope. You never take their loss anymore lightly, but you do take it differently. You learn to focus less on replacing them with someone or something similar, to filling in the gaps with something else until life brings you more lose-change.
When you grow up in poverty, you come to know loss and change as complete antonyms. You've already lost a lot, and if you lose anymore, it would be a bad thing, but you would love to have a change. And when you're the only one of your friends to run off to the military out of high school so that you could have a roof over your head, you become quite accustomed to loss and change. But that doesn't make either any easier.
I've recently lost the company of some good friends, not to death, but to life. They've moved on, and I'll lose more when I move on. I look back on my past and see my friends, family, and girlfriends. I see regrets and successes and (reluctantly) feel like I wouldn't change a thing. It's all for the best.
Things change, we grow up and go on. There will be new friends, girlfriends, and even new family. And sometimes there will be old friends, girlfriends, and hopefully, old family. It isn't easy to lose someone you care about, but it does get easier to cope. You never take their loss anymore lightly, but you do take it differently. You learn to focus less on replacing them with someone or something similar, to filling in the gaps with something else until life brings you more lose-change.
Friday, November 2, 2012
The Sock Diaries: 11/2/2012
"Carne Diem (Meat the day)"- "Wilfred"
I realized recently that the longer I go without sex, the more carnal the desire becomes. I've tried masturbating, but that only provides a momentary solution to the problem. I need real human interaction. I need sex. Consensual sex, of course. Fear not, dear reader, for my sanity or the legality of my actions. Everyday, as I smell the flowery scents of the women around me, I clench my teeth and my mouth waters slightly. Not long ago, I caught the scent of one woman as she passed my, and I just flashed in my mind to sinking my teeth in her neck and hearing her moan with pleasure. I want to taste, smell, and feel again. I've never been one for casual sex with strangers, but if there were any times for that, I fear it's coming close. I've done it before. For fun, and in a splurge after breaking up with my ex, trying to prove to myself that I had a good reason for it. I don't like who I become without a regular amount of sex in my life. Desperate. Sloppy. Fuck me. I need a drink...
I realized recently that the longer I go without sex, the more carnal the desire becomes. I've tried masturbating, but that only provides a momentary solution to the problem. I need real human interaction. I need sex. Consensual sex, of course. Fear not, dear reader, for my sanity or the legality of my actions. Everyday, as I smell the flowery scents of the women around me, I clench my teeth and my mouth waters slightly. Not long ago, I caught the scent of one woman as she passed my, and I just flashed in my mind to sinking my teeth in her neck and hearing her moan with pleasure. I want to taste, smell, and feel again. I've never been one for casual sex with strangers, but if there were any times for that, I fear it's coming close. I've done it before. For fun, and in a splurge after breaking up with my ex, trying to prove to myself that I had a good reason for it. I don't like who I become without a regular amount of sex in my life. Desperate. Sloppy. Fuck me. I need a drink...
The Sock Diaries: 11/1/2012
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still coping with my break-up. It was about six months ago, but somehow it feels a lot shorter. Every day I think about her, and how comforting it was to always have someone to talk to who actually gave a shit what I had to say.
Three days after we broke up, I had sex with another girl. Not long after that, I had sex with her best friend. I knew it was stupid, and I had made a similar, not as serious, mistake with this same “best friend” of a girl I used to date. Two weeks after we broke up, I had had sex with about four to five other women. Three weeks after we broke up, she confessed to having some feelings for a guy that I had introduced her to, in trying to get her to stop trying to get me to get back with her. That same day, she told me she planned on having sex with him because he had a big dick.
Three more weeks, and the women stopped coming, and the parties were over, and the money was gone and I was completely alone, thinking about the girl who had cried, begged and pleaded for me to stay. What more can you ask from a woman before she really moves on? She tells me she can't see me the way she used to and that she has strong feelings for the new guy I introduced her to. He still isn't over his ex, but she initially was keeping him around for the sex. She says it's more than that now and that I wouldn't understand. No one does.
She had replaced me. In three weeks she found- no I found her a guy who she felt was an adequate enough replacement for a guy who she had been in love with for over two years. It didn't matter to me when he was just a guy she was fucking, but when I found out she had feelings for him, my world came crashing down around me. It was over. I was no longer anyone's Number One. Her heart was elsewhere.
In Three weeks.
Nine weeks after we break-up, we were no longer talking. I was- am, angry about the situation. About my ridiculous mistake, about her replacing me, about the only female friend I had in the world taking her side and befriending her over me. I vow to myself I wouldn't go to any of her social networking sites for fear that I would see how happy she was with her new guy friend who was in the same area code ALL the time instead of two weeks a year. The one with the big dick.
Twelve weeks after we broke up, I break my vow and venture on to one of her pages. There, the first thing I see is a sentence about how well she was just fucked and a picture of her and him cuddled together. It felt like blowing dust out of a cup. It goes straight in your eyes, and you instantly realize how obvious that outcome should have been. But instead of dust, it was more like hot volcanic ash.
Three weeks later, I reenlist in the Army for three more years to go to Central America.
The Sock Diaries: 10/30/12
I started at a kickboxing gym recently. I don't think the instructor is certified in instructing, but he's built like the comic book version of... well every superhero. Also, he can fight. I've had the opportunity to release a lot of stress on the bag and a little in the ring. I still think about her when I'm alone. I wish things could have been different. I wish that I could have been able to make things make sense before it all crumbled. But for the most part. I've moved on to focusing on myself. My focus at work and at the gym has increased dramatically. My performance and motivation is up, and my masturbation count is down. I'm not sure if the two are related, but I know that either way, I feel better about myself now than ever before.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
The Sock Diaries: 10/14/2012
Pulse racing, vision narrowing. Nothing around matters but what you see right in front of you. Brow furrows. Biting lip. Faster. Harder. Welcome to perfection. Everything is right. Speed, control, imagery. It all happens perfectly like a well thought out plan, all leading up to one moment. This moment. And suddenly, your hand's a mess, your tunnel vision fades, your pulse plummets and your eyes droop, while your stroke slows drastically, coming to a halt like a train pulling in to a very disappointing station. Now you're back in your room with a fistful of regret and the crushing knowledge that another kitten has been eaten in your honor, and your guardian angel just had another feather plucked.
That's the feeling I have at least once a day. I spent a little time with a slut recently, she was in my room, not for me, but for my roommate. She drank herself stupid and got to the point that she was showing her breasts every couple of seconds to me and the other three guys in the room during our beer pong game. Later in the night, my roommate reported that she would not be letting him into her panties, despite the heavy making out and groping she had been doing with him and one of the other guys in the room. He then told me that instead of going to the other guy's room for a devil's threesome, she would be going to sleep in his bed. In our room. Where there are no doors. This didn't bother me much, because I only wanted to avoid the sex noises disturbing my sleep. Also, my masturbation. Hadn't jacked off once that day, and despite the relative unattractiveness of the slut, I was generally horny. An hour after I fell asleep, I was awakened by a voice repeating the same phrases over and over again.
"I want to sleep with you. No. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy. I'm not drunk I'm sober. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy..."
This continued for some time, while my patience was worn thin. Apparently, she thought it was a good idea to drunk dial her ex-boyfriend while she was drunk to the point of almost getting double-teamed by two guys she had just met that day. And she thought it was ok to wake up another guy while making that call. I contemplated getting up and punching her in the face. I also contemplated getting up and telling her to "shut the fuck up, he knows you're out slutting it up, he doesn't want you calling him at 4 in the morning."
I chose the latter, and got up from my bed, boxers clad, and walked over to where she was. In the time it took me to get over to where she was, her repetitive phrases had changed from what they were before, to a now, less crazy:
"What if I just come over there? What if I just come over there? I'm coming over there. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up..." and repeat x3.
At which point, she donned her pants, and stormed out of our room. I stood there in my underwear, and with a confused look on my face, looked back and forth between my roommate, and our recently exited door. He was sitting up smirking a little at my confusion.
"She called her ex." he told me.
at which point I proceeded to the bathroom and got to that masturbation I missed out on, then back to sleep I went.
That's the feeling I have at least once a day. I spent a little time with a slut recently, she was in my room, not for me, but for my roommate. She drank herself stupid and got to the point that she was showing her breasts every couple of seconds to me and the other three guys in the room during our beer pong game. Later in the night, my roommate reported that she would not be letting him into her panties, despite the heavy making out and groping she had been doing with him and one of the other guys in the room. He then told me that instead of going to the other guy's room for a devil's threesome, she would be going to sleep in his bed. In our room. Where there are no doors. This didn't bother me much, because I only wanted to avoid the sex noises disturbing my sleep. Also, my masturbation. Hadn't jacked off once that day, and despite the relative unattractiveness of the slut, I was generally horny. An hour after I fell asleep, I was awakened by a voice repeating the same phrases over and over again.
"I want to sleep with you. No. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy. I'm not drunk I'm sober. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy..."
This continued for some time, while my patience was worn thin. Apparently, she thought it was a good idea to drunk dial her ex-boyfriend while she was drunk to the point of almost getting double-teamed by two guys she had just met that day. And she thought it was ok to wake up another guy while making that call. I contemplated getting up and punching her in the face. I also contemplated getting up and telling her to "shut the fuck up, he knows you're out slutting it up, he doesn't want you calling him at 4 in the morning."
I chose the latter, and got up from my bed, boxers clad, and walked over to where she was. In the time it took me to get over to where she was, her repetitive phrases had changed from what they were before, to a now, less crazy:
"What if I just come over there? What if I just come over there? I'm coming over there. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up..." and repeat x3.
At which point, she donned her pants, and stormed out of our room. I stood there in my underwear, and with a confused look on my face, looked back and forth between my roommate, and our recently exited door. He was sitting up smirking a little at my confusion.
"She called her ex." he told me.
at which point I proceeded to the bathroom and got to that masturbation I missed out on, then back to sleep I went.
Friday, October 5, 2012
The Sock Diaries:10/5/2012
I would like to apologize to all six of my regular readers for the lack of weekly updates on the Diary of Avery Blackman and Sock Diaries. It's been a long week involving overnights and very little computer time. But, now, like Michael Jordan to various sports, I'm back, and doing as good or better as before, or so my agent tells me. And now, the moment you've been waiting for, a grown man writing one of two diaries.
Last night, I had what I would call the craziest dream that I've had in a very, very long time. It started off with me roaming through a city at night with a couple of friends. The streets were lit with the lights from the sky scrapers and street lights, and cars roaming by. I had a brand new phone that I was showing off to a friend, showing him a picture of a really cool statue that I had seen on one of the skyscrapers. As I scrolled, I realized that the picture was 3D, and the statue was moving. We came on the street where the statue resided, and watched as it stepped down from the building, and shrank into a beautiful, girl, around my age, well looking my age, because, I mean, let's be sensible here, it was a statue... girl... thing. Anyway, I started to talk to the statue girl, and she gave me some vague explanation of how some witch allowed her to turn into a person every so often or something, I wasn't paying attention, she had a pretty nice rack on her and a low cut shirt.
Anyway, she and I hit it off while my friends and I headed back to the hotel room we had waiting for us in whatever city my mind had created. On the way, we picked up a painting. Well, actually, we picked up a woman who had just emerged from a painting. I averted my attention for a while from the statue woman, to the painting woman, and flirted with her for a while. We got back to the hotel room, and my two friends hopped in the one giant bed we had in the room, along with the two women who had joined us while I stood up, looking and realizing that suddenly, there was no room for me here. No matter what I had done. Despite the fact that I could have tried a little harder to preserve statue girl's feelings, and maybe cared a little more when painting girl decided to hook up with another guy. Statue girl actually shot me a look of spite before she began tonguing down my friend in the hotel bed that I probably paid for. I never looked back over at painting girl, she didn't really mean very much to me at the time.
I woke up shortly after people started hooking up right in front of me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that my subconscious might be trying to tell me something. Maybe the statue girl represents my ex, and how I should probably have tried to preserve her feelings a little more. Maybe the painting girl represents the girl I had a small thing with shortly after my last relationship ended. They both found someone new and now I'm standing here, staring. I think my subconscious is really saying that it's time to move on. No more pain, no more regrets. I will miss them, but I don't want them back. It sucks being alone, but after all I've been through, damn I needed it. I did get the sneaking suspicion that the women coming from a statue and a painting might be a sign that I should probably stop trying to satisfy myself with fake women, like strip clubs and porn... but we'll just jump one hurdle at a time.
Last night, I had what I would call the craziest dream that I've had in a very, very long time. It started off with me roaming through a city at night with a couple of friends. The streets were lit with the lights from the sky scrapers and street lights, and cars roaming by. I had a brand new phone that I was showing off to a friend, showing him a picture of a really cool statue that I had seen on one of the skyscrapers. As I scrolled, I realized that the picture was 3D, and the statue was moving. We came on the street where the statue resided, and watched as it stepped down from the building, and shrank into a beautiful, girl, around my age, well looking my age, because, I mean, let's be sensible here, it was a statue... girl... thing. Anyway, I started to talk to the statue girl, and she gave me some vague explanation of how some witch allowed her to turn into a person every so often or something, I wasn't paying attention, she had a pretty nice rack on her and a low cut shirt.
Anyway, she and I hit it off while my friends and I headed back to the hotel room we had waiting for us in whatever city my mind had created. On the way, we picked up a painting. Well, actually, we picked up a woman who had just emerged from a painting. I averted my attention for a while from the statue woman, to the painting woman, and flirted with her for a while. We got back to the hotel room, and my two friends hopped in the one giant bed we had in the room, along with the two women who had joined us while I stood up, looking and realizing that suddenly, there was no room for me here. No matter what I had done. Despite the fact that I could have tried a little harder to preserve statue girl's feelings, and maybe cared a little more when painting girl decided to hook up with another guy. Statue girl actually shot me a look of spite before she began tonguing down my friend in the hotel bed that I probably paid for. I never looked back over at painting girl, she didn't really mean very much to me at the time.
I woke up shortly after people started hooking up right in front of me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that my subconscious might be trying to tell me something. Maybe the statue girl represents my ex, and how I should probably have tried to preserve her feelings a little more. Maybe the painting girl represents the girl I had a small thing with shortly after my last relationship ended. They both found someone new and now I'm standing here, staring. I think my subconscious is really saying that it's time to move on. No more pain, no more regrets. I will miss them, but I don't want them back. It sucks being alone, but after all I've been through, damn I needed it. I did get the sneaking suspicion that the women coming from a statue and a painting might be a sign that I should probably stop trying to satisfy myself with fake women, like strip clubs and porn... but we'll just jump one hurdle at a time.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
The Sock Diaries: 9/26/2012
You ever make yourself a promise to not do something you knew would be bad for you, but you wanted to do it so bad, you just couldn't resist the urge. I did that recently, and it IMMEDIATELY backfired in the worst possible way that it possibly could. I have simply come to the assumption that you always give yourself advice for a VERY good reason. Have you ever tried to blow dust out of a bowl shaped object? The experience was a lot like that except that instead of dust, it was more like blazing hot volcanic ash, mixed with despair. Needless to say, I won't be ignoring my own advice anytime soon. I will also not be giving myself any advice any time soon. It feels a lot better when you can claim that no one told you not to do it.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Don't turn out the lights just yet...
Remember when you were younger, and you used to flip the light switch and dash for the bed, taking great care not to get your legs too close to the dark abyss under your bed as you leapt Indiana Jones style onto your bed, yet again narrowly escaping the monsters of the dark? And remember how you cowered under your trusty, cotton soft, super-titanium blanket, wrapping yourself in that shroud of impenetrable armor, knowing that the evil that lurked just outside stamped it's silent foot in rage at being foiled yet again?
All "normal" people have had that very rational fear of the dark. The reality is, most people don't realize exactly how close they still are to that fear. As you get older, your eyes develop, and your imagination wanes, as science and logic take hold of your adolescent mind and direct your focus to much more real, and inherent dangers, like embarrassment, or rejection, or failure.
We all end up with one major fear that shapes our lives in a major way, whether that fear be heights, (picking that office on the 3rd floor instead of the 33rd) sharks, (never telling your husband about that free cruise you won) failure, (alienating everyone around you and considering them a burden instead of a blessing) or the most common one, being alone.
We've all heard the phrase said, in some way or another "He/She is the light of my life." That metaphor stems from that common fear of the dark. When we're older, and looking for that perfect One (or two, or thirteen) that we want to spend the rest of our lives with, those nights alone can seem like the darkest times of all. When you have someone with you, in person or in spirit (not ghost, just in thought, mostly), the dark doesn't seem like such a scary place. It's a big, scary, malevolent-looking world out there when you try to go it alone. But you don' have to be. There is always someone who will be willing to hold your hand as you hit that switch, and make that leap of faith over that dark abyss into that bouncy haven. Just ask. They might be waiting for you.
All "normal" people have had that very rational fear of the dark. The reality is, most people don't realize exactly how close they still are to that fear. As you get older, your eyes develop, and your imagination wanes, as science and logic take hold of your adolescent mind and direct your focus to much more real, and inherent dangers, like embarrassment, or rejection, or failure.
We all end up with one major fear that shapes our lives in a major way, whether that fear be heights, (picking that office on the 3rd floor instead of the 33rd) sharks, (never telling your husband about that free cruise you won) failure, (alienating everyone around you and considering them a burden instead of a blessing) or the most common one, being alone.
We've all heard the phrase said, in some way or another "He/She is the light of my life." That metaphor stems from that common fear of the dark. When we're older, and looking for that perfect One (or two, or thirteen) that we want to spend the rest of our lives with, those nights alone can seem like the darkest times of all. When you have someone with you, in person or in spirit (not ghost, just in thought, mostly), the dark doesn't seem like such a scary place. It's a big, scary, malevolent-looking world out there when you try to go it alone. But you don' have to be. There is always someone who will be willing to hold your hand as you hit that switch, and make that leap of faith over that dark abyss into that bouncy haven. Just ask. They might be waiting for you.
Friday, September 21, 2012
The Sock Diaries 9/21/2012
So I was jacking off, right?
Ha, I don't have a story that goes with that right now, but I kind of always wanted to start a story that way. Anyway, I had just finished jacking off, right? And when I finished, I sat there for a second, trying not to make a mess on myself, when something struck me as odd. I turned around and looked at the woman I had just had sex with and wondered if I may or may not have a problem. Naturally, I decided against that notion. But I realized, I couldn't just keep sleeping with random women, trying to replace my ex. I mean, my post relationship sex list is about triple what it was before I got into that relationship. I mean, even my ex was on my post relationship list. I've never been a player, nor had I imagined I would ever be one.
My dream as a kid, was to find a woman who would look at me and imagine that the sun shines out of my ass, I shit rainbows, my fingers play angel harps, and my penis was one of God's toes. I could honestly say that my ex was that girl. But I wasn't satisfied with that. I don't know when guys develop this conquering complex, but I suddenly found myself wanting more. Not more as in emotional connection or moral support, but like more as in Playboy mansion style orgies, with Playboy Bunnies and dead celebrities like Anna Nicole Smith and Marilyn Monroe along with, NBA basketball stars, like Lebron James, Michael Jordan, and of course, Kobe and Tiger, and we all know why.
Honestly, I don't regret the decision, I regret that I'm at a point in my life where I was in a position where I had to do it. I always thought I had met her way too early in my life, and that I needed a few more years to man-whore myself around a bit, and live. Truth is, though, I really need to get to a point where all I'm doing is living. Just living. Ha. Man, sometimes I just wanna go home...
Ha, I don't have a story that goes with that right now, but I kind of always wanted to start a story that way. Anyway, I had just finished jacking off, right? And when I finished, I sat there for a second, trying not to make a mess on myself, when something struck me as odd. I turned around and looked at the woman I had just had sex with and wondered if I may or may not have a problem. Naturally, I decided against that notion. But I realized, I couldn't just keep sleeping with random women, trying to replace my ex. I mean, my post relationship sex list is about triple what it was before I got into that relationship. I mean, even my ex was on my post relationship list. I've never been a player, nor had I imagined I would ever be one.
My dream as a kid, was to find a woman who would look at me and imagine that the sun shines out of my ass, I shit rainbows, my fingers play angel harps, and my penis was one of God's toes. I could honestly say that my ex was that girl. But I wasn't satisfied with that. I don't know when guys develop this conquering complex, but I suddenly found myself wanting more. Not more as in emotional connection or moral support, but like more as in Playboy mansion style orgies, with Playboy Bunnies and dead celebrities like Anna Nicole Smith and Marilyn Monroe along with, NBA basketball stars, like Lebron James, Michael Jordan, and of course, Kobe and Tiger, and we all know why.
Honestly, I don't regret the decision, I regret that I'm at a point in my life where I was in a position where I had to do it. I always thought I had met her way too early in my life, and that I needed a few more years to man-whore myself around a bit, and live. Truth is, though, I really need to get to a point where all I'm doing is living. Just living. Ha. Man, sometimes I just wanna go home...
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
The Diary of Avery Blackman: Learning
It's been years since I'd been freed, and I still haven't seen one acre of my own land from my government. I now realize that it'll never happen. Now, I just hope to get a decent education so that I can get a job and buy my own land. My school is miles away, and without a bus system or any personally owned vehicles, I have to walk the distance. I finally made my way off of my former master's land, and am now living on my own. Times are brutally difficult in the south, the white men are bitterly determined to prevent me from making anything of myself. Things are a little different up north, but I get the feeling that even in the north, the white man doesn't feel like I am his equal. I will prove myself, and become something great, so that my children may walk in my legacy and remember my sacrifice and dedication. Praise God Almighty for the opportunities He has given me to prove myself. I believe in Him, even through the violence I endure simply for the color of my skin. I make it through with the power of song, and dance, for His namesake. I know I can be more than just a Nigger. One day, I will prove it to the world.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Moving up...
People talk a lot about moving on after a break up, where the people involved actually cared about each other. They give you some form of the "Get back up on the horse" speech and send their sympathetic looks your way. Your friends try to convince you that your ex wasn't all you cracked them up to be, and invite you out to go hunting for a temp replacement for a night.
This is all find and dandy, and it's awesome that you have such great friends, but in reality, you need something much more healing than a one-nighter with a Brazilian tranny.
You don't need your friends to belittle your ex, or to tell you all the dirty secrets they heard about them and the high school football team and cheerleaders before a homecoming game. Embrace the awesome you just lost. Think about all the great things about that person and how they made you feel. Then, go back and think about how awesome you used to think your ex was before that, and how your new ex made your old ex look like a failed extra point in the Superbowl in over-time. And if that was your first relationship, then just sit back and let Papa Sonata walk you through this.
When you're in a relationship, and all is well, and the sun shines out of your boyfriend or girlfriend's asshole and they shit rainbows and puke pixie dust, and suddenly, you're single and alone, things can get a bit dark. BUT DO NOT FRET! Hope is yet only around the corner. Or, more adequately, up the hill.
Try thinking of your time being single as you going up a hill. Each relationship you get into, is like a home you move into. You settle in, you try it out, and if it doesn't work out, you pack your bags and move out to continue your trip up the hill. Each new house you take the time to get to will be closer to the top of that hill. You'll leave each house with a little more baggage, and that'll make your trip up the hill that much harder each time. But you'll find that the houses up the hill have bigger couches, softer beds, and bigger closets, with more room for all of those bags you've acquired on your way with all the same commodities of the old house and more.
These things don't come easy, and you have to watch out for those mobile homes heading in the opposite direction. You might pit stop in one for a night, to catch your breath and rest your shoulders, but you get out, dear reader. You get out of that house fast, and continue your trip up that hill to the next house with a basement and real plumbing.
But that's enough of that analogy, I think you get the point. You can't just quit and wallow on the front lawn of your old house (there goes that analogy again), and you don't just need to move on, you need to move up.
This is all find and dandy, and it's awesome that you have such great friends, but in reality, you need something much more healing than a one-nighter with a Brazilian tranny.
You don't need your friends to belittle your ex, or to tell you all the dirty secrets they heard about them and the high school football team and cheerleaders before a homecoming game. Embrace the awesome you just lost. Think about all the great things about that person and how they made you feel. Then, go back and think about how awesome you used to think your ex was before that, and how your new ex made your old ex look like a failed extra point in the Superbowl in over-time. And if that was your first relationship, then just sit back and let Papa Sonata walk you through this.
When you're in a relationship, and all is well, and the sun shines out of your boyfriend or girlfriend's asshole and they shit rainbows and puke pixie dust, and suddenly, you're single and alone, things can get a bit dark. BUT DO NOT FRET! Hope is yet only around the corner. Or, more adequately, up the hill.
Try thinking of your time being single as you going up a hill. Each relationship you get into, is like a home you move into. You settle in, you try it out, and if it doesn't work out, you pack your bags and move out to continue your trip up the hill. Each new house you take the time to get to will be closer to the top of that hill. You'll leave each house with a little more baggage, and that'll make your trip up the hill that much harder each time. But you'll find that the houses up the hill have bigger couches, softer beds, and bigger closets, with more room for all of those bags you've acquired on your way with all the same commodities of the old house and more.
These things don't come easy, and you have to watch out for those mobile homes heading in the opposite direction. You might pit stop in one for a night, to catch your breath and rest your shoulders, but you get out, dear reader. You get out of that house fast, and continue your trip up that hill to the next house with a basement and real plumbing.
But that's enough of that analogy, I think you get the point. You can't just quit and wallow on the front lawn of your old house (there goes that analogy again), and you don't just need to move on, you need to move up.
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Sock Diaries 9/10/2012
I was walking down the street recently, thinking about a party I hadn't been invited to.
"It's alright," I told myself. "It'll be late at night, and that's when I dress up in a costume and fight crime and save babies from burning buildings." That's what I told myself. (I was about 15 when I gave up on my dream of being a superhero ninja.) That's not what I'll be doing. In reality, I'll probably be playing video games, eating overpriced, late delivered Chinese food, waiting on a call from the girl who isn't good for me, or the other girl who isn't good for me, or the girl who didn't invite me to her party. Who also isn't good for me.
We all imagine ourselves as the protagonist of our own story. Often we do things we regret and wish we were in a reality where we could provide a valid excuse for doing something incredibly stupid. "Officer, the cure to cancer was supposed to be in that bag of weed. Look, I'll sell it to you for half he price I was going to sell it to that guy for."
The fact is, you're not always going to be the hero/heroine you wish you were. Sometimes you're the villain. More likely, you might come out as the trusty sidekick. And then, the most likely of all, you're the innocent bystander dodging debris and and hoping you're not the one who gets crushed by the billboard. Most of us don't want to go through our lives and come out on the other side unimpressive and unremembered. We spend so much of our time wanting to be loved, respected, and wanted, sometimes we become that villain. Or, worse, we forget to love ourselves.
I've been guilty of that, lately. Forgetting to take a minute and soak in a pool of my own awesome. I have a lot to get together, anyway. I really need to get my head on straight before I think about bringing anyone else into my situation. I've got some high hopes and a pretty positive attitude. And I don't even have an S on my chest.
"It's alright," I told myself. "It'll be late at night, and that's when I dress up in a costume and fight crime and save babies from burning buildings." That's what I told myself. (I was about 15 when I gave up on my dream of being a superhero ninja.) That's not what I'll be doing. In reality, I'll probably be playing video games, eating overpriced, late delivered Chinese food, waiting on a call from the girl who isn't good for me, or the other girl who isn't good for me, or the girl who didn't invite me to her party. Who also isn't good for me.
We all imagine ourselves as the protagonist of our own story. Often we do things we regret and wish we were in a reality where we could provide a valid excuse for doing something incredibly stupid. "Officer, the cure to cancer was supposed to be in that bag of weed. Look, I'll sell it to you for half he price I was going to sell it to that guy for."
The fact is, you're not always going to be the hero/heroine you wish you were. Sometimes you're the villain. More likely, you might come out as the trusty sidekick. And then, the most likely of all, you're the innocent bystander dodging debris and and hoping you're not the one who gets crushed by the billboard. Most of us don't want to go through our lives and come out on the other side unimpressive and unremembered. We spend so much of our time wanting to be loved, respected, and wanted, sometimes we become that villain. Or, worse, we forget to love ourselves.
I've been guilty of that, lately. Forgetting to take a minute and soak in a pool of my own awesome. I have a lot to get together, anyway. I really need to get my head on straight before I think about bringing anyone else into my situation. I've got some high hopes and a pretty positive attitude. And I don't even have an S on my chest.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
The Diary of Avery Blackman: Freedom
Today I realized that years in unpaid employment has left me with nothing. I complained to my government, and they promised that once the dust from the war had settled, I would receive reparations for my decades of work. Land and a beast of burden that I could own myself. It's a glorious day, I just hope that things get settled soon. My former master offered me and my family a job working on his land for actual money. I'll pay him rent and buy my food from him, but it's alright because at least this way, I'm still paying my own way. He even gave me a start-up loan to get me on my feet. He told me I could just pay him back at the end of the month, and with all the work I'm doing, it should be no problem. I'd love to start school soon, but the whites won't allow me into their schools, and have yet to build any for me. I'm sure it'll be a matter of time before the great President Lincoln comes through for me and I'll be living on and farming my own land.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Diary of Avery Blackman: Emancipation
My name is Avery. I'm writing this diary now, not as some private collection of my thoughts, but as a private contribution to public resources, of my successes and failures, my triumphs and disgraces. Many people know me by many different names, some of which I'm proud, some of which, not so much. There are some names that I feel it only appropriate that I, among my own company am allowed to call myself. Some people find that silly, and hell, sometimes so do I, but that's just the way it is. I was brought to this country by white men, at first of my own will, but shortly thereafter, things changed, and before I knew it, I was struggling against a force I had never imagined even existed.
But there I was, on this boat, heading off into a world of which I never knew, but came to hate after a short period of time, while also learning to love after an even longer period of time. That place was the great country known today by the name United States of America, and for a long time, it was my back that it was built upon. I was chained and forced to work without wages, sold as property and treated with the same respect upon which a mule or any other beast of burden was treated. I was inspected like an item at auctions, degraded and told constantly that I was less than a man. The insults of my captors went by me unrecognized at first, but then I learned, and I learned quickly. The White men forbade me to learn to read or write, but quietly, by the light of the stars and the moon, by the night, during the few hours of the night in which I was allowed rest, I learned the language of the White man. I learned to hate the white man, or pity him, I can't clearly remember which, but I remember praying for him often. I sang songs to help pass the lonely tired nights that I wasn't plotting my escape, or my revenge, or my education. It's so strange to come from so far, wishing for nothing more than freedom and an education, and to be where I am now. It's almost laughable. But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I? Well, to go back on topic, I spent so much of my time dreaming of having the simplest of rights, which the White Man told me was a privilege that as a filthy nigger, I didn't deserve. As time wore on, and more and more of this great country was built on the back of A. Blackman, and things began to change, for better and for worse. Up north, I was treated with much more respect, even sometimes considered a human. Down south, where so much still depended on me being a pack mule, things got worse. I secretly learned, as much as I could, and even started to make scientific contributions. I was an inventor, an entrepreneur, a savior, and one who needed saving.
One day, a war started, and there was a chance we would end up enslaved by a whole new country, built on the backs of a slave, with no hope of freedom. I convinced the president of the United States that he should stand up against these crimes against humanity. I told him that without absolute freedom there was no freedom at all. And one day, ha, I couldn't believe it... we were free. We were free. So now I am writing this diary, because it is my Constitutional right, that I be allowed to learn to read and write, and let the world know of my triumphs.
But there I was, on this boat, heading off into a world of which I never knew, but came to hate after a short period of time, while also learning to love after an even longer period of time. That place was the great country known today by the name United States of America, and for a long time, it was my back that it was built upon. I was chained and forced to work without wages, sold as property and treated with the same respect upon which a mule or any other beast of burden was treated. I was inspected like an item at auctions, degraded and told constantly that I was less than a man. The insults of my captors went by me unrecognized at first, but then I learned, and I learned quickly. The White men forbade me to learn to read or write, but quietly, by the light of the stars and the moon, by the night, during the few hours of the night in which I was allowed rest, I learned the language of the White man. I learned to hate the white man, or pity him, I can't clearly remember which, but I remember praying for him often. I sang songs to help pass the lonely tired nights that I wasn't plotting my escape, or my revenge, or my education. It's so strange to come from so far, wishing for nothing more than freedom and an education, and to be where I am now. It's almost laughable. But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I? Well, to go back on topic, I spent so much of my time dreaming of having the simplest of rights, which the White Man told me was a privilege that as a filthy nigger, I didn't deserve. As time wore on, and more and more of this great country was built on the back of A. Blackman, and things began to change, for better and for worse. Up north, I was treated with much more respect, even sometimes considered a human. Down south, where so much still depended on me being a pack mule, things got worse. I secretly learned, as much as I could, and even started to make scientific contributions. I was an inventor, an entrepreneur, a savior, and one who needed saving.
One day, a war started, and there was a chance we would end up enslaved by a whole new country, built on the backs of a slave, with no hope of freedom. I convinced the president of the United States that he should stand up against these crimes against humanity. I told him that without absolute freedom there was no freedom at all. And one day, ha, I couldn't believe it... we were free. We were free. So now I am writing this diary, because it is my Constitutional right, that I be allowed to learn to read and write, and let the world know of my triumphs.
The Sock Diaries 8/28/2012
More and more often I find myself thinking the deepest thoughts shortly after masturbation. It's not really a surprise, seeing as how I'm definitely submitting myself into the category of chronic masturbator, bordering on masturbation addict. This stems, pretty obviously, from a lifestyle of raging hormones and a lack of actual sex. I partially blame this on my former penchant for long distance relationships and the fact that I've been in the army since 2009 and have since been to 4 different temporary stations in 3 years. But my most recent epiphany came at the end of one particularly sad ending episode of a show I finally got into. It ended off with a sad song and someone reminiscing on a past relationship with teary eyes and a sad smile. It made me realize that, even when you might get so sad, and lonely, and depressed and regretful, it's all a part of being young in America. You just have to appreciate the fact that you have something to reminisce on and be confident you'll get the chance to right your wrongs and make much funner mistakes than you already have. That's our youth, full of fun times, wishful thinking, and sad songs that we think define our lives. But in reality, it's us defining those sad songs, and riding them back up to the top of our emotional, adolescent roller coasters.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
The Sock Diaries 8/24/2012
I got horny. So naturally, I decided to watch some porn and get it out of the way. I was on the Playstation, and so I moved to my computer, taking my Ethernet cord with me (I don't have wifi or a router.) I got everything prepared, my clean-up tool- an old sock with no partner- my dirty category for the moment- cute chubby girls, and my porn site of choice. But for some reason, I decided to go online and go to the one place that I know my ex goes when she wants to express herself. Damn Tumblr. The one place that's open to the public to see, where I could see exactly what she was up to. I'm not sure why. Two days ago, I finally pulled the cord on our vegetative state relationship. I was cold and heartless, the only way I could be at the time, in order to make things stick. It hurt like hell on the inside, but I didn't let her see. But it was finally completely over, I told her not to contact me ever again. Two years of being madly in love, and 4 months of thinking we could eventually work it out, ended. I looked on her Tumblr for... I guess her usually venting about me, something about losing me and how much it hurt. Honestly, that would have made me feel better because at this point, I am alone and miserable, and I left her because I didn't want to be around as she moved on, easily. There was already someone else, and already, I couldn't compete with him, so I had to end it. I couldn't be around to see her slowly fade away from me. I searched for five minutes through pictures and statuses. Out of the 50 or so pics and sentences I perused, I saw maybe two that may have been about me. Nothing conclusive though. Until I saw the picture. She was beautiful, smiling, happy looking. And she was close to him, cheek to cheek as he smiled at the camera with her. It's over. The most crushing feeling I've ever felt. She's already happy and moving on while I sit here, alone, self-pitying, chasing ghosts and pretending I know what the hell I'm doing. I sat for a moment, shocked, penis in a sock, losing my erection and an alarming rate, heart-racing and mind seeking out some kind of alleviation for the pain. I chased her into his arms, and his bed. She will self-medicate on him until there is no more sting from the pain I caused. Until the cancer I was is completely remissed and I'm only a distant memory and a laugh. I wondered where I would self-medicate. Where would I go for comfort? And yet I put myself in this situation. But honestly, couldn't see myself doing it any other way. Fate seems to be the cruelest mistress of them all.
Friday, August 24, 2012
The Sock Diaries Part 1-3
I recently decided to start writing down my thoughts, or significant moments of my day, some are humorous, some are not, but I felt like I needed an outlet, and figured, who better to talk to, than anyone who'll listen?
????
I poured garlic sauce on my junk today. For some reason, I've been on a really hard porn watching regimen since I bought internet from my roommate. Asian, ebony, white, chubby, midget, tranny. But don't worry, it's always tranny on girl so it's still straight. It's just weird. When you watch as much porn as I do, you become desensitized to the point where if there isn't blood and at least one vegetable, you don't get off. I'm pretty sure I'm addicted to porn, except for the fact that I don't watch it recreationally, you know, like where I just prepare some popcorn and cozy back into a seat. No, I actually watch and jerk off. Everytime. At this point my junk is sore, my hand is cramping and I am running out of weird shit to watch.
????
You know you watch too much porn when you actually notice your favorite pornstars aging. It's starting to get like some kind of all nude teenage drama, she got a boob job, she got an ass job, she never gives blow jobs, she's trying to find another job... I think I'm going to try to take a break from porn and focus on the more important things in life. Like video games.
8/17/2012
People do not appreciate periods enough. I mean the monthly menstrual cycle deal. People always complain when it happens, “Oh I got cramps, I'm bleeding out of my vagina, I'm nauseous.” or, “I can't have sex, despite the fact that she likes to throw her horniness in my face constantly.” But in reality, it's a lot more upsetting when the period doesn't show up.
????
I poured garlic sauce on my junk today. For some reason, I've been on a really hard porn watching regimen since I bought internet from my roommate. Asian, ebony, white, chubby, midget, tranny. But don't worry, it's always tranny on girl so it's still straight. It's just weird. When you watch as much porn as I do, you become desensitized to the point where if there isn't blood and at least one vegetable, you don't get off. I'm pretty sure I'm addicted to porn, except for the fact that I don't watch it recreationally, you know, like where I just prepare some popcorn and cozy back into a seat. No, I actually watch and jerk off. Everytime. At this point my junk is sore, my hand is cramping and I am running out of weird shit to watch.
????
You know you watch too much porn when you actually notice your favorite pornstars aging. It's starting to get like some kind of all nude teenage drama, she got a boob job, she got an ass job, she never gives blow jobs, she's trying to find another job... I think I'm going to try to take a break from porn and focus on the more important things in life. Like video games.
8/17/2012
People do not appreciate periods enough. I mean the monthly menstrual cycle deal. People always complain when it happens, “Oh I got cramps, I'm bleeding out of my vagina, I'm nauseous.” or, “I can't have sex, despite the fact that she likes to throw her horniness in my face constantly.” But in reality, it's a lot more upsetting when the period doesn't show up.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
The Relationship Equation: Pt. 1
Gentlemen, have you ever been told by your lady counterpart that sex shouldn't be such a big deal to you? Have you been told that it shouldn't be so upsetting that she's holding out? Well, in fact, gentlemen, she's right. Sorry fellas. What's that? Oh you don't find that to be very interesting at all?
"Why Mr. Sonata, you're always so enlightening, and mildly controversial! What treachery is this?!"
Be calm, my loyal subjects, the controversy is only yet to begin. I am going to present what I like to call the Relationship Equation. It can be broken down in to the equation:
R=((P2)+(E2))(A2).
"Oh how scientific and confusing this has become! Please explain Professor Sonata!" This equation, with all its scientific letters and parentheses stands for:
RELATIONSHIP(R) EQUALS PHYSICAL SATISFACTION(P) TIMES (2) PLUS EMOTIONAL SATISFACTION(E)TIMES (2) TIMES ATTRACTION(A) TIMES 2
The fact of the matter is, you can't have a healthy relationship with out these three factors. But in reality, the PHYSICAL SATISFACTION(P) comes in different forms for different people. It's a fact that a woman can feel satisfied from a sexual encounter without actually having an orgasm, while that's the main goal for a man, finding that orgasm and going all the way through. this seeps through to our lesser physical requirements also. More women can find their (P) in a hug and a cuddle and go longer times without sex than males. So to them, the reality is, sex isn't important. But you may have noticed that everything in the equation says times (2). That's simply because there has to be two of EVERYTHING in order to have a healthy relationship(R). (R) is what you want, so you work backwards from there, to see what you need to get there. Let's say what you wanted was the number 10. Observe:
10=((2x2)2)+2
That equation is true. Broken down, it says 2x2 equals 4. True. Then, you multiply that times two. 4x2 equals 8. So far, so good. then it says you add 2 to that. 8+2 equals 10. Viola. Now let's start with 10 and alter just one of the numbers and see what we get.
10=((1x2)2)+2
Let's break it down. 1x2 equals 2. True. Then, it's 2x2. 4. Also true. Then we go ahead and add our last 2. 4+2 equals 10. Wrong. You get 6. When you take away just one aspect from the equation, you fall way short. The Relationship Equation is no less unforgiving. You cannot have a healthy relationship if you only have one person being satisfied in one area while the other person goes wanting. So if sex a part of someone's (P), then they need to figure out how they're going to get their 1. This isn't a shot at women who hold out, or guys who want to get laid. This isn't an attack on compromise. In reality, No one can have a perfect 10 for a relationship. But without compromise, you won't even come close. If he just HAS to have sex, and you just can't do it, Time to move on, because you're not going to make it past 6 as long as neither one of you budges. And if she just ain't giving it up, and you gotta get some, then maybe you should let this one go and "chalk it up as a loss" as they say. Or it could be the other way around, (I'm pretty sure that's how the Miley Cyrus and Jonas Brother situation played out) but that's too much typing for me right now so I'm going to go out on a limb and say you get the point. So figure out what you need to do to get that 9.5 and remember, no cheating. Class dismissed.
R=((P2)+(E2))(A2).
"Oh how scientific and confusing this has become! Please explain Professor Sonata!" This equation, with all its scientific letters and parentheses stands for:
RELATIONSHIP(R) EQUALS PHYSICAL SATISFACTION(P) TIMES (2) PLUS EMOTIONAL SATISFACTION(E)TIMES (2) TIMES ATTRACTION(A) TIMES 2
The fact of the matter is, you can't have a healthy relationship with out these three factors. But in reality, the PHYSICAL SATISFACTION(P) comes in different forms for different people. It's a fact that a woman can feel satisfied from a sexual encounter without actually having an orgasm, while that's the main goal for a man, finding that orgasm and going all the way through. this seeps through to our lesser physical requirements also. More women can find their (P) in a hug and a cuddle and go longer times without sex than males. So to them, the reality is, sex isn't important. But you may have noticed that everything in the equation says times (2). That's simply because there has to be two of EVERYTHING in order to have a healthy relationship(R). (R) is what you want, so you work backwards from there, to see what you need to get there. Let's say what you wanted was the number 10. Observe:
10=((2x2)2)+2
That equation is true. Broken down, it says 2x2 equals 4. True. Then, you multiply that times two. 4x2 equals 8. So far, so good. then it says you add 2 to that. 8+2 equals 10. Viola. Now let's start with 10 and alter just one of the numbers and see what we get.
10=((1x2)2)+2
Let's break it down. 1x2 equals 2. True. Then, it's 2x2. 4. Also true. Then we go ahead and add our last 2. 4+2 equals 10. Wrong. You get 6. When you take away just one aspect from the equation, you fall way short. The Relationship Equation is no less unforgiving. You cannot have a healthy relationship if you only have one person being satisfied in one area while the other person goes wanting. So if sex a part of someone's (P), then they need to figure out how they're going to get their 1. This isn't a shot at women who hold out, or guys who want to get laid. This isn't an attack on compromise. In reality, No one can have a perfect 10 for a relationship. But without compromise, you won't even come close. If he just HAS to have sex, and you just can't do it, Time to move on, because you're not going to make it past 6 as long as neither one of you budges. And if she just ain't giving it up, and you gotta get some, then maybe you should let this one go and "chalk it up as a loss" as they say. Or it could be the other way around, (I'm pretty sure that's how the Miley Cyrus and Jonas Brother situation played out) but that's too much typing for me right now so I'm going to go out on a limb and say you get the point. So figure out what you need to do to get that 9.5 and remember, no cheating. Class dismissed.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)