I've been on a whole "No woman, no cry" kick as of late. Not really on purpose, but I've generally lost my taste for relationships. I still talk to a strangely large amount of women, and will have a hell of a time cleaning names out of my phone book when I get back in country, but most of the time, I purposely bomb my chances with these new women, because I have an estimated two days left in country, and haven't been one for one night stands. Were I not leaving soon, I would probably have gotten myself into all sorts of things up to this point.
The strangest thing about this whole dilemma is that I still want to daydream about having that special someone. I find myself thinking "When I get married, my wife is going to be..." and I stop there, realizing that I have no idea what she's going to be like. I look back on my big three ex-girlfriends (the ones I said "I love you" to) and notice that there was only one pattern. When we were together, they were generally submissive. Now that we're broken up, they've all blossomed into their own version of dominant, and I know that it was mainly me who pushed them into that direction. It's fine, more or less. They're thriving(ish) women, and making their own independent(ish) decisions and living their lives the way they want to live them. (ish).
But that's neither here nor there. What I'm getting at is that at this very, very strange period in my life, I barely know what I want when it comes to family. I figure I want a car, a nice house with high speed internet, and for the zombie apocalypse to kick in when I'm around 45, that way I should be in pretty good shape, and already well into my life to where I'm not going to miss much. Oh, and a dog. As far as family is concerned, I know I'd love to have a son, but I have no idea what my wife/baby momma will be like. My prediction is that she'll turn out to be a malicious, deceiving she-devil after my inevitable divorce, who will ensure that she not only leaves with at least half my shit, but also absorbs half of my potential happiness for the rest of her life, until she's dragged down into a crowd of zombies while handing me up our child through the window just in time. And then I shoot her in the face later.
Now that I don't spend all of my time throughout my day thinking about my future wife, I have no idea what I really want from any of this whole boy-meets-girl scenario that we as young people spend all of our time wrapped up in. I know what I want with my career, I know what kind of car I want, what kind of job, what my dream apartment looks like, and all of the guys that I want to grow old next to. Or at the very least, make my last stand in an abandoned parking lot surrounded by zombies with.
It's a strange feeling. Not knowing what's next, and having no expectations at all. But that's where I am, and though I have no idea what I'm in store for with this next part, I just really hope that it's as good as the last part...
Monday, February 25, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Diary of Avery Blackman: Joining
Today, they allowed me to join them in their schools. They finally heard my voice. I've been laughing with my friends about their term "Separate but Equal" since I heard it come out of their mouths. The walk up to the door was the longest one I've ever endured. They spit on me, they through things at me. They hate me. But they will not stop me. I will not just show that I am as good as they are, because that's not good enough. I must be better. They will not break me. I will stand tall and strong to show the world that we will not quit until I have proven myself. One day, we will show the white man that we can be better. I will put on my best clothes every day, no matter what they throw at my clean white shirt, and my fresh pressed pants.
The governor has sent National Guard soldiers to stop me from going to the white school. He even closed all of the schools in my town to try to ensure that the desegregation didn't happen. The president stepped in and sent in Army soldiers to help. From what I learned, the same brave unit had gone to Germany during the world war, and many of their victories swayed the entire direction of the War.
I will graduate with honors. I will not quit. I will strive to show them that we are not less. We are more...
The governor has sent National Guard soldiers to stop me from going to the white school. He even closed all of the schools in my town to try to ensure that the desegregation didn't happen. The president stepped in and sent in Army soldiers to help. From what I learned, the same brave unit had gone to Germany during the world war, and many of their victories swayed the entire direction of the War.
I will graduate with honors. I will not quit. I will strive to show them that we are not less. We are more...
Diary of Avery Blackman: War
A war has broken out again. Our world is under attack. Japs attacked and now good ol' Uncle Sam is calling me to war. Good enough to fight and die, but still barely good enough to die next to the white man. I will fight for my wife and child. I will fight for the men, women, and children who are being suppressed and held back. Those who are being treated like animals, and even less than. I will fight harder than the white man. I will show him with blood and sacrifice that we are not just equals. I am better...
They have separated me from the white man. My missions have been mostly support of support. They report that my limited negro intellect hinders me from being able to accomplish what the white man can, thus giving them a reason to report that my efforts in the war were marginal. Yet I fight. And I fight hard. I never give up, and I will not allow them to say that the little that I was allowed to do was not done as well as it could possibly could have been...
I saw a lot of action today. My brothers beside me fought with me, and some died, but did both valiantly. We won a great victory for the Allied forces, but I would be hard pressed to believe that anyone would ever find out what Negros have done for humanity this day. But one can only hope, that with the liberation of the people of Europe, we may one day see the same liberation on our own soil...
They have separated me from the white man. My missions have been mostly support of support. They report that my limited negro intellect hinders me from being able to accomplish what the white man can, thus giving them a reason to report that my efforts in the war were marginal. Yet I fight. And I fight hard. I never give up, and I will not allow them to say that the little that I was allowed to do was not done as well as it could possibly could have been...
I saw a lot of action today. My brothers beside me fought with me, and some died, but did both valiantly. We won a great victory for the Allied forces, but I would be hard pressed to believe that anyone would ever find out what Negros have done for humanity this day. But one can only hope, that with the liberation of the people of Europe, we may one day see the same liberation on our own soil...
Monday, February 18, 2013
Sock Diaries: 2/16-17/2013
So... the MILF...
Well I was out of town, (in Houston) at this Bahamas themed club event, with this girl I had met six hours earlier, who was from the Bahamas, and it was around 3 A.M., and I was sitting on the outskirts of the club just observing. During my time observing, I realized that young women of island origins generally don't think much of clothing. I mean, there was one girl there in a bra... and a fire-engine red mohawk... I know that wasn't really relevant, but it happened, and I thought it was crazy... anyway, there was another girl there in short... short... short shorts. As in they stopped, generally, at the top of her ass. one of the girls I was with was in a full dress, and it stopped at the middle of her ass. I guess I should give her a little credit, it did make it halfway...
Anyway, it's 3 A.M. on the 17th, and people are just arriving...
Let's back track a little...
It's about 9 A.M. on the 16th, and I'm jacking it. Everything's right: Mood- bored, Lights- off, Porn- on, Actress- Chanel Preston (look her up...). Anyway, I'm in the middle of doing the deed when, suddenly- I got nothing. I mean the video is in the middle of some really good stuff, but all of a sudden, I have absolutely no interest. As confusing as this was, I just chalked it up to too much "alone time" and maybe it was time for a break.
It's about 1 P.M. on the 16th, and I'm heading to the store for some chow, and I see a chick walking by. Good looking, early 20s, alone (no boyfriend or c-blocking friends) so, naturally I think about talking to her, when I realize, I'm just not interested. So I press on. I head into the mini-mall thing we have on base and head to the food court, when I see a few pretty young things sitting at a table. potential targets, definitely, but, I just wasn't diggin' it. So I get my food from the cute cashier without so much as a clever joke, and head back to my room. The days events reminded me of the night before, when I was dancing with this extra sexy young lady at the club, we're doing the whole grinding thing, ass to pelvis, and I mean she was well built with a great face, but some how, it didn't stir up a thing. I realized... girls don't interest me anymore.
Now, now dear readers, don't go telling the masses that poor little Sonata's out of the closet. Read on.
It's about 3 P.M. when I see a familiar girl walk past with a guy I never saw before. Behind her walked another girl, who, despite walking a little closer to the couple, didn't seem to be with them, or anyone else for that matter. I watched her walk by with, intrigue, for lack of a better word. Somewhat in her, and somewhat in whether I was completely off game for talking to girls altogether. So I go up to her, introduce myself in that way I do, and walk right into that glass door called "rejection". But neither being interested in her nor having anything better to do, I continued to talk to her. Long, uninteresting story short, about half an hour later, she invited me to come with her to Dallas, and then Houston for some kind of Jamaican/Bahamian- themed club event. I thought about it, and with a few more episodes of the Young Justice cartoon to finish, and an uneaten, refrigerated McDonald's cheeseburger to microwave back to health, not to mention a nap or two to get around to, I already had quite a full plate in front of me, but I decided that I'd already napped, tooned, and munched McD's, but had yet to party with people I had just met from the Bahamas. So I went. We made the two and a half hour trip from here to to Dallas, then the three hour trip from Dallas to Houston. We arrived around 1 A.M.
Now, it's about 4:30 A.M., and the party has officially started. People are on the dance floor, the music is blaring, the bass is literally penetrating my chest cavity, and the freakily dressed women are shaking their barely covered asses. Things were pretty awesome, despite my financially induced sobriety, which then hindered my dancing ability. So I sat where we began, on the outskirts of the dance floor in chairs acquired from somewhere in the back. The two island chicks had wandered off onto the middle of the dance floor, and I just enjoyed the sights. The scantily clad women were interesting, but not impressive. There was even a Mini Minaj. She had an ass the size of 2/3 a basketball, and a waist you could almost wrap your hands around. She also wore a Minaj-style onesie. It was made out of what looked like leggings style wallpaper, and I have no idea how she got it on. There were no clear signs of zippers or buttons. Maybe she painted it on...?
Anyway. I was just watching and enjoying, when I saw.... The MILF. She was amazing. Mature, sexy. Long, straight flowing hair, light brown skin... She was thick, but not even at the level of chubby. Just thick. She was probably about mid- to late thirties. She wore a reasonably tight pair of jeans, some leather boots, and a white button up shirt that hugged her... oh, so right. She and a friend headed over to the seats left unsat in by my new island friends, and sat. My heart raced. I ran through all of my possible pick-up lines that I'd been using for the past two months, and all of them came up lacking. This was no girl. This was a woman. I had to come up with something good. The best thing I could come up with was:
"You ladies look out of place." I would say.
"How/Why?" She would ask.
"Because your clothes actually fit." I would reply.
She would laugh. She would then ask me if I wanted to go to her place so she could show me everything I've been missing. I would say yes. She would rock my world, and I hers. I would propose. She would accept. We would marry and have children. I would die at 70 going 264 mph in a Bugatti Veyron 18.4 Supersport leaving my millions to my young, mid thirties mistress.
She sat next to me, dancing in her seat, touching me occasionally. I prepared my line. Then I thought, what if she takes it the wrong way?
"You ladies look out of place." I would say.
"Fuck you."
I had to try something though. And this was the best line I had for an older woman in a place like this. I took a deep breath...
"You ladies look out of place." I said in her ear.
"What?!" she asked.
"You ladies look out of place." I yelled in her ear.
"What?!" she asked.
"You ladies look out of place." I said even louder in her ear.
"How?!" she asked.
(Oh thank God...)
"Because your clothes actually fit..." I yelled to her.
She laughed, touching my thigh for a moment.
No sexual proposal. On to plan B. What was plan B?
I then tried starting some kind of small talk, asking some kind of question once every 5 minutes. She always answered enthusiastically, but I was just...
At some point, midst my silence and her dancing in her seat, she was invited by one of her friends to the dance floor, but before she left, she got up and told me to hold her seat. She reached over and grabbed me by the arm, and the thigh, and slid me into her seat. She then went to dance. Some girl came over to ask me for one of the seats I had my ass cheek on, to which I relinquished reluctantly and the girl ran off. I would reserve the remaining chair for my future dominatrix. The MILF then returned from dancing and asked me what happened to the other chair, I told her I gave it up, but the last one was for her, I could stand, at which, I stood. She then took my arm, tossed me back in the chair, and said...
"You gotta hold that for me."
... and turned around, and proceeded to dance. Right there. In front of me, her ass at eye level. I tried not to stare, but... damn. And then... Yeah. my already ridiculously tight jeans managed to shrink even more.
I needed to seal this deal. This was it. She was the thing that I had been missing. A sexy, mature, goddess...
"We'll be back."
...her friend said in my ear, as she grabbed my angel by her arm and went off towards the bathroom. I sighed and looked around, hoping no one saw me in my trance. I rubbed my chin, less to mess with my facial, hair and more to check for drool. I took one more deep breath, and decided,
When they come back, I will ask for her number. I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't.
They never came back...
Well I was out of town, (in Houston) at this Bahamas themed club event, with this girl I had met six hours earlier, who was from the Bahamas, and it was around 3 A.M., and I was sitting on the outskirts of the club just observing. During my time observing, I realized that young women of island origins generally don't think much of clothing. I mean, there was one girl there in a bra... and a fire-engine red mohawk... I know that wasn't really relevant, but it happened, and I thought it was crazy... anyway, there was another girl there in short... short... short shorts. As in they stopped, generally, at the top of her ass. one of the girls I was with was in a full dress, and it stopped at the middle of her ass. I guess I should give her a little credit, it did make it halfway...
Anyway, it's 3 A.M. on the 17th, and people are just arriving...
Let's back track a little...
It's about 9 A.M. on the 16th, and I'm jacking it. Everything's right: Mood- bored, Lights- off, Porn- on, Actress- Chanel Preston (look her up...). Anyway, I'm in the middle of doing the deed when, suddenly- I got nothing. I mean the video is in the middle of some really good stuff, but all of a sudden, I have absolutely no interest. As confusing as this was, I just chalked it up to too much "alone time" and maybe it was time for a break.
It's about 1 P.M. on the 16th, and I'm heading to the store for some chow, and I see a chick walking by. Good looking, early 20s, alone (no boyfriend or c-blocking friends) so, naturally I think about talking to her, when I realize, I'm just not interested. So I press on. I head into the mini-mall thing we have on base and head to the food court, when I see a few pretty young things sitting at a table. potential targets, definitely, but, I just wasn't diggin' it. So I get my food from the cute cashier without so much as a clever joke, and head back to my room. The days events reminded me of the night before, when I was dancing with this extra sexy young lady at the club, we're doing the whole grinding thing, ass to pelvis, and I mean she was well built with a great face, but some how, it didn't stir up a thing. I realized... girls don't interest me anymore.
Now, now dear readers, don't go telling the masses that poor little Sonata's out of the closet. Read on.
It's about 3 P.M. when I see a familiar girl walk past with a guy I never saw before. Behind her walked another girl, who, despite walking a little closer to the couple, didn't seem to be with them, or anyone else for that matter. I watched her walk by with, intrigue, for lack of a better word. Somewhat in her, and somewhat in whether I was completely off game for talking to girls altogether. So I go up to her, introduce myself in that way I do, and walk right into that glass door called "rejection". But neither being interested in her nor having anything better to do, I continued to talk to her. Long, uninteresting story short, about half an hour later, she invited me to come with her to Dallas, and then Houston for some kind of Jamaican/Bahamian- themed club event. I thought about it, and with a few more episodes of the Young Justice cartoon to finish, and an uneaten, refrigerated McDonald's cheeseburger to microwave back to health, not to mention a nap or two to get around to, I already had quite a full plate in front of me, but I decided that I'd already napped, tooned, and munched McD's, but had yet to party with people I had just met from the Bahamas. So I went. We made the two and a half hour trip from here to to Dallas, then the three hour trip from Dallas to Houston. We arrived around 1 A.M.
Now, it's about 4:30 A.M., and the party has officially started. People are on the dance floor, the music is blaring, the bass is literally penetrating my chest cavity, and the freakily dressed women are shaking their barely covered asses. Things were pretty awesome, despite my financially induced sobriety, which then hindered my dancing ability. So I sat where we began, on the outskirts of the dance floor in chairs acquired from somewhere in the back. The two island chicks had wandered off onto the middle of the dance floor, and I just enjoyed the sights. The scantily clad women were interesting, but not impressive. There was even a Mini Minaj. She had an ass the size of 2/3 a basketball, and a waist you could almost wrap your hands around. She also wore a Minaj-style onesie. It was made out of what looked like leggings style wallpaper, and I have no idea how she got it on. There were no clear signs of zippers or buttons. Maybe she painted it on...?
Anyway. I was just watching and enjoying, when I saw.... The MILF. She was amazing. Mature, sexy. Long, straight flowing hair, light brown skin... She was thick, but not even at the level of chubby. Just thick. She was probably about mid- to late thirties. She wore a reasonably tight pair of jeans, some leather boots, and a white button up shirt that hugged her... oh, so right. She and a friend headed over to the seats left unsat in by my new island friends, and sat. My heart raced. I ran through all of my possible pick-up lines that I'd been using for the past two months, and all of them came up lacking. This was no girl. This was a woman. I had to come up with something good. The best thing I could come up with was:
"You ladies look out of place." I would say.
"How/Why?" She would ask.
"Because your clothes actually fit." I would reply.
She would laugh. She would then ask me if I wanted to go to her place so she could show me everything I've been missing. I would say yes. She would rock my world, and I hers. I would propose. She would accept. We would marry and have children. I would die at 70 going 264 mph in a Bugatti Veyron 18.4 Supersport leaving my millions to my young, mid thirties mistress.
She sat next to me, dancing in her seat, touching me occasionally. I prepared my line. Then I thought, what if she takes it the wrong way?
"You ladies look out of place." I would say.
"Fuck you."
I had to try something though. And this was the best line I had for an older woman in a place like this. I took a deep breath...
"You ladies look out of place." I said in her ear.
"What?!" she asked.
"You ladies look out of place." I yelled in her ear.
"What?!" she asked.
"You ladies look out of place." I said even louder in her ear.
"How?!" she asked.
(Oh thank God...)
"Because your clothes actually fit..." I yelled to her.
She laughed, touching my thigh for a moment.
No sexual proposal. On to plan B. What was plan B?
I then tried starting some kind of small talk, asking some kind of question once every 5 minutes. She always answered enthusiastically, but I was just...
At some point, midst my silence and her dancing in her seat, she was invited by one of her friends to the dance floor, but before she left, she got up and told me to hold her seat. She reached over and grabbed me by the arm, and the thigh, and slid me into her seat. She then went to dance. Some girl came over to ask me for one of the seats I had my ass cheek on, to which I relinquished reluctantly and the girl ran off. I would reserve the remaining chair for my future dominatrix. The MILF then returned from dancing and asked me what happened to the other chair, I told her I gave it up, but the last one was for her, I could stand, at which, I stood. She then took my arm, tossed me back in the chair, and said...
"You gotta hold that for me."
... and turned around, and proceeded to dance. Right there. In front of me, her ass at eye level. I tried not to stare, but... damn. And then... Yeah. my already ridiculously tight jeans managed to shrink even more.
I needed to seal this deal. This was it. She was the thing that I had been missing. A sexy, mature, goddess...
"We'll be back."
...her friend said in my ear, as she grabbed my angel by her arm and went off towards the bathroom. I sighed and looked around, hoping no one saw me in my trance. I rubbed my chin, less to mess with my facial, hair and more to check for drool. I took one more deep breath, and decided,
When they come back, I will ask for her number. I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't.
They never came back...
Friday, February 15, 2013
Maturity...
We all have to grow up some time. At least that's what they say. Which is true, for the most part. But growing up and maturing are two different things. As a kid, you generally have to put up with a lot of things, and have a natural affinity for other things, otherwise considered childish. Running around, playing "tag" and watching cartoons, and playing with action figures or dolls, and all other sorts of make believe. Your mind is so active in absorbing and processing information, that you never want to slow down, physically or mentally. You want to know everything, you want to be everywhere but where you are. You never want to stop moving. But what is it that takes the most toll on you? What part of "growing up" is it that causes you to slow down, put down the toys, turn off the cartoons, stop chasing the girl to make her "it" and start chasing her because you think she's "it"? Is it simply growing up that causes it? Is it all just physical; hormones raging, mind everywhere around you instead of everywhere but around you? Or is it maturity?
"What is maturity, if not growing up?" you might ask. To which I'll tell you the Simple Sonata definition: Maturity- (noun) the act of getting tired of shit.
Sure, we all have to grow up some time. But we don't all mature in the same way. Personally, I just spent the past two days watching cartoons. Some people feel that at my age, I should be well past my cartoon watching years. But honestly, I haven't matured out of it yet. I have, however, matured out of a lot of social situations that I used to put myself in. A long time ago, I would put myself through hell for the chance that I might get laid. Or so that I would find someone and not be alone forever (I had a big fear of that, when I was younger, for some reason, as if it was normal to meet your soul mate at 9...). Once I matured past that, and I wiped the non-sex having veil from my eyes, I realized that having sex wasn't worth putting myself through mental torture for an off chance. About 90% of the time, all I did was end up putting the next guy in the hot seat for the prize and I'd end up virginal and confused, with another handful of wasted napkins and potential children out of wedlock. I realized that women, being the estrogen-spewing sea dragons that they are, could smell the desperation on me like sharks smell blood. And women do not like, or respect, the smell of desperation. And they definitely do not have sex with the guy who smells like he showers in it.
"What is maturity, if not growing up?" you might ask. To which I'll tell you the Simple Sonata definition: Maturity- (noun) the act of getting tired of shit.
Sure, we all have to grow up some time. But we don't all mature in the same way. Personally, I just spent the past two days watching cartoons. Some people feel that at my age, I should be well past my cartoon watching years. But honestly, I haven't matured out of it yet. I have, however, matured out of a lot of social situations that I used to put myself in. A long time ago, I would put myself through hell for the chance that I might get laid. Or so that I would find someone and not be alone forever (I had a big fear of that, when I was younger, for some reason, as if it was normal to meet your soul mate at 9...). Once I matured past that, and I wiped the non-sex having veil from my eyes, I realized that having sex wasn't worth putting myself through mental torture for an off chance. About 90% of the time, all I did was end up putting the next guy in the hot seat for the prize and I'd end up virginal and confused, with another handful of wasted napkins and potential children out of wedlock. I realized that women, being the estrogen-spewing sea dragons that they are, could smell the desperation on me like sharks smell blood. And women do not like, or respect, the smell of desperation. And they definitely do not have sex with the guy who smells like he showers in it.
Desperato
de
Sonata
That's what my cologne would be called. And the tagline would be "Guaranteed to keep you STD free."
Needless to say, the second I just fucking quit, that's when things started looking up. I just got tired of the shit. Chasing pussy is like chasing your tail; you end up unsatisfied and tired, but then one day, you sit your happy ass down, and find the shit tickling you on the nose. Obviously, this encourages you to either get back on the chase, or do what the smart dog does, and chill the fuck out and enjoy your small victory.
So I matured out of chasing women pointlessly, and now chase women who provide points.
But not all maturity comes from bad experience. One day you wake up and suddenly, things you used to do just leave a bad taste in your mouth. Sometimes literally. Maybe you smoked weed every day, and one day, it just wasn't fun. Or maybe you looked in the mirror, and were just tired of what you saw, so you decided to go out and gain some weight. Who knows?
My main point is, growing up happens. You just gotta know when to look out for maturity coming down the tracks to get your young ass to the next station in life. Don't be afraid of it. We all do it. You get tired of your old friends and their bullshit, or your broke ass family, or your cheating ass ex-boyfriend, or you just get tired of chasing the same bullshit women, and need to start looking for the next big thing. You just get tired of shit. Welcome to adulthood.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Sock Diaries: 2/12/2013
I was just lying here in bed, and a question popped into my head that genuinely refused to allow me to sleep without getting to the bottom of it...
"Why don't I find women genuinely appealing anymore?"
Now I know what you're probably thinking, but cut that shit out. What I actually mean by that question is: Why is it that I can find women sexy, but none of the women I've encountered have actually caught my attention and made me want her more than any of the others?
I ran the question through my mind over and over again and analyzed it from different angles. My initial response was that I don't want a relationship. Women are awesome, and I can run into the most perfect woman ever, and still not want to be in a relationship with her at this point. But I also thought to myself, that's a load of bullshit in a basket. I'm heading to Honduras. Central America. Where the women there are programmed to be perfect housewives, and genetically engineered to make you give them that position, like it or not. They're the women than unwilling men fall in love with. And I thought to myself, what if all of that king-like treatment appeals to my softer side, and I find myself trapped in love with one of these women, and I'm on my way out of the country, with no way to keep her, but to marry her and bring her with me?
How could I avoid that? If I was truly in love, could I tell myself "No, I'm not ready"? Could I tell her?
But I thought again, it would have to be much more than just some back rubs and catering. In order for me to fall in love again, this woman would have to be special. Very special...
So I had to figure out what it was that one woman could have over every other woman I've encountered and either had sex with or was potentially going to have sex with. And I realized what that one thing was.
An intellectual connection.
I can have a physical and emotional connection with tons of women, but until I have that intellectual connection... they'll all just fade into the background. It's been so long since I've heard a girl/woman say something so profound that it made me sit and think. Or something so clever I couldn't do anything but smile. No, I'm swimming in a sea of shallow conversations (I see the oxymoron there...) and pointless banter. I see the appeal of the ditzy girl, and yes, it's cute that some girls say silly things... a lot. And some girls think themselves to be smart, and use their "superior" intellect to play silly mind games, but they're not really on the same level, for one, they're immature, and two, they're only slightly smarter than the ditzy ones, but not even worth trying to hold a decent conversation with.
It's going to be a long time before I find that one. I don't really mind. Too much fun to be had to get hung up on my new found concept of a dream girl... isn't there?
"Why don't I find women genuinely appealing anymore?"
Now I know what you're probably thinking, but cut that shit out. What I actually mean by that question is: Why is it that I can find women sexy, but none of the women I've encountered have actually caught my attention and made me want her more than any of the others?
I ran the question through my mind over and over again and analyzed it from different angles. My initial response was that I don't want a relationship. Women are awesome, and I can run into the most perfect woman ever, and still not want to be in a relationship with her at this point. But I also thought to myself, that's a load of bullshit in a basket. I'm heading to Honduras. Central America. Where the women there are programmed to be perfect housewives, and genetically engineered to make you give them that position, like it or not. They're the women than unwilling men fall in love with. And I thought to myself, what if all of that king-like treatment appeals to my softer side, and I find myself trapped in love with one of these women, and I'm on my way out of the country, with no way to keep her, but to marry her and bring her with me?
How could I avoid that? If I was truly in love, could I tell myself "No, I'm not ready"? Could I tell her?
But I thought again, it would have to be much more than just some back rubs and catering. In order for me to fall in love again, this woman would have to be special. Very special...
So I had to figure out what it was that one woman could have over every other woman I've encountered and either had sex with or was potentially going to have sex with. And I realized what that one thing was.
An intellectual connection.
I can have a physical and emotional connection with tons of women, but until I have that intellectual connection... they'll all just fade into the background. It's been so long since I've heard a girl/woman say something so profound that it made me sit and think. Or something so clever I couldn't do anything but smile. No, I'm swimming in a sea of shallow conversations (I see the oxymoron there...) and pointless banter. I see the appeal of the ditzy girl, and yes, it's cute that some girls say silly things... a lot. And some girls think themselves to be smart, and use their "superior" intellect to play silly mind games, but they're not really on the same level, for one, they're immature, and two, they're only slightly smarter than the ditzy ones, but not even worth trying to hold a decent conversation with.
It's going to be a long time before I find that one. I don't really mind. Too much fun to be had to get hung up on my new found concept of a dream girl... isn't there?
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Sock Diaries: 2/10/2013
Okay, so I owe you guys an update. I guess it's been about three weeks since my last update. So let's see...
Celebrated the Ravens winning the Superbowl while I was in Baltimore; amazing coincidence.
The girl I was spending the most time with while I was home "broke up" with me. Of course it wasn't really a break-up since we weren't together, but she did say the words "I don't want to see you anymore." This came after her realization that we weren't actually on the path to blossoming into anything serious, and that I was only going to be in town for two weeks after I met her. And that I was also talking to other women. She found out the last part through my blog, which she found through Facebook. And thus, Facebook has officially cost me... sex.
I was stood up by three different women on my last day in town, my two exes, and a girl who had been bluffing me out for a week. The last one there was the biggest disappointment of them all. (She was half Cuban and half Chinese- WHAT?!) I actually did see both of those exes earlier in the day for a little, about 45 minutes for one, and about an hour and a half for the other. The one who has been flirting nonstop with one of my friends spent her entire time there doing just that, and then when it was time for her to go, she mentioned something about me not saying much to her, as if I hadn't been there the entire time to watch what she was doing. I mean, it was my last day, and I was the one who invited her over. And then she acts like nothing happened, like I was acting weird... hm. and the other one, I think I finally got the point across that recent exes have no reason to hang out unless they were actual friends to begin with. I hold no animosity towards either of them. The flirty one, I didn't really care, except how she treated the situation afterwards. And the recent one, I know she just wanted to spend time with me and enjoy my company and yadda yadda. But sitting together in silence and sharing little cutesy inside jokes, and being boyfriend and girlfriend, and fucking... that's what our relationship consisted of, and at no time was it anything different. Now, whenever we're around each other in person, none of that can be there anymore, so what's the point? I mean I can develop a new dynamic with flirty ex because we've been away from each other for so long, but with recent ex, we haven't gone thirty days without at least an awkward conversation. But in reality, I think I've had a bit of a change of heart. It doesn't hurt to be around her, or see her with her new boyfriend anymore. I'm fine with it. And she seems like she can handle seeing me and seeing me with other women. And she's kind of fun to have around, honestly. I can see a new dynamic developing in the future but this trip wasn't the one.
Anyway. During the entire time I was at home, I managed to only have sex with one girl. I was hoping my end story from my "crazy" trip home would sound a little less romantic, but it's the truth. I pissed off a few women, got annoyed, worked out, and got probably an accumulated dozen different numbers. Just one lay, though, so, congrats, girl I had sex with. You were my one and only. I'm back in Texas, waiting on my ticket to get to my new station in Honduras, and spending every penny of my taxes before they arrive. I'd love to find a one more American girl before I go, but my most lucrative night in Texas happened while my phone still resided in Maryland, and therefore, of the six or seven new numbers I got in that one night, I ended up with one the next day, luckily. Still doesn't mean much seeing as how the girl stays about 50 miles away and I have no car. And she leaves next week and I leave this one.
So that's what's been happening to me. On to what's going on in my head....
Well I've noticed that since the dental operation, I've been... brazen. I've gotten a lot more confidence, but I feel like at this point I might be a little too crass. I say offensive things that I wouldn't have dreamed of saying before, and that hold no humorous value. It's a side of me that I've seen myself showing more and more of, but a side that I don't like. I'm not too worried about this, because I'm still conscious enough to be aware that there's something wrong, so there's still time to fix it. Fret not, my fans. I won't let myself become an asshole-douchbag that easily. The good news is that I do have a lot more information and learn-how to teach in future, non-Sock Diaries posts. So there's something to look forward to. But I will not be making that post until I reach the magic number: 10. What that means, you will soon find out.
Celebrated the Ravens winning the Superbowl while I was in Baltimore; amazing coincidence.
The girl I was spending the most time with while I was home "broke up" with me. Of course it wasn't really a break-up since we weren't together, but she did say the words "I don't want to see you anymore." This came after her realization that we weren't actually on the path to blossoming into anything serious, and that I was only going to be in town for two weeks after I met her. And that I was also talking to other women. She found out the last part through my blog, which she found through Facebook. And thus, Facebook has officially cost me... sex.
I was stood up by three different women on my last day in town, my two exes, and a girl who had been bluffing me out for a week. The last one there was the biggest disappointment of them all. (She was half Cuban and half Chinese- WHAT?!) I actually did see both of those exes earlier in the day for a little, about 45 minutes for one, and about an hour and a half for the other. The one who has been flirting nonstop with one of my friends spent her entire time there doing just that, and then when it was time for her to go, she mentioned something about me not saying much to her, as if I hadn't been there the entire time to watch what she was doing. I mean, it was my last day, and I was the one who invited her over. And then she acts like nothing happened, like I was acting weird... hm. and the other one, I think I finally got the point across that recent exes have no reason to hang out unless they were actual friends to begin with. I hold no animosity towards either of them. The flirty one, I didn't really care, except how she treated the situation afterwards. And the recent one, I know she just wanted to spend time with me and enjoy my company and yadda yadda. But sitting together in silence and sharing little cutesy inside jokes, and being boyfriend and girlfriend, and fucking... that's what our relationship consisted of, and at no time was it anything different. Now, whenever we're around each other in person, none of that can be there anymore, so what's the point? I mean I can develop a new dynamic with flirty ex because we've been away from each other for so long, but with recent ex, we haven't gone thirty days without at least an awkward conversation. But in reality, I think I've had a bit of a change of heart. It doesn't hurt to be around her, or see her with her new boyfriend anymore. I'm fine with it. And she seems like she can handle seeing me and seeing me with other women. And she's kind of fun to have around, honestly. I can see a new dynamic developing in the future but this trip wasn't the one.
Anyway. During the entire time I was at home, I managed to only have sex with one girl. I was hoping my end story from my "crazy" trip home would sound a little less romantic, but it's the truth. I pissed off a few women, got annoyed, worked out, and got probably an accumulated dozen different numbers. Just one lay, though, so, congrats, girl I had sex with. You were my one and only. I'm back in Texas, waiting on my ticket to get to my new station in Honduras, and spending every penny of my taxes before they arrive. I'd love to find a one more American girl before I go, but my most lucrative night in Texas happened while my phone still resided in Maryland, and therefore, of the six or seven new numbers I got in that one night, I ended up with one the next day, luckily. Still doesn't mean much seeing as how the girl stays about 50 miles away and I have no car. And she leaves next week and I leave this one.
So that's what's been happening to me. On to what's going on in my head....
Well I've noticed that since the dental operation, I've been... brazen. I've gotten a lot more confidence, but I feel like at this point I might be a little too crass. I say offensive things that I wouldn't have dreamed of saying before, and that hold no humorous value. It's a side of me that I've seen myself showing more and more of, but a side that I don't like. I'm not too worried about this, because I'm still conscious enough to be aware that there's something wrong, so there's still time to fix it. Fret not, my fans. I won't let myself become an asshole-douchbag that easily. The good news is that I do have a lot more information and learn-how to teach in future, non-Sock Diaries posts. So there's something to look forward to. But I will not be making that post until I reach the magic number: 10. What that means, you will soon find out.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Dog Pissing and Training Wheeling...
I propose that two terms be entered into the Bro Code. Dog Pissing and Training Wheeling. Here are the definitions:
Dog Pissing is where, while you're out somewhere, or maybe even in, you have a girlfriend or a female friend or associate that under normal circumstances, poses no interest in PDA (public displays of affection) but the second that a woman approaches that they find to be a mild threat, you lose every bit of your personal space, and are suddenly walking like you're in England in the 1600s. She's got her arm wrapped around yours while caressing your triceps, holding onto you like a small child in the mall. Or she's just bumping up against you like one of her legs is shorter than the other and she's using you like a bumper. Maybe you're stationary and sitting, and there's a slight potential of a girl to be looking, suddenly you're the funniest guy ever and every time she lays her hand on your arm, she leaves it there just a second too long for you not to notice but just long enough for you to feel like every woman in the area knows that she's just pissed her scent all over you, and so now you're stuck wasting all your jokes on the chick who drops "I see you like a brother" in front of you, her friends, and the rest of the world, as if she can't imagine that you would have any kind of pride or dignity after she's cock-blocked you and played with your head more times than you've played matches of Call of Duty.
Training Wheeling is where you're with a friend, and a woman joins you, and your friend and her hit it off, and you're stuck there sipping your drink and staring off awkwardly everywhere but at them until your friend notices and says something to temporarily include you in the conversation like:
"It was the craziest night of my life! HARHARHAR! Oh, Sonata was there! Wasn't it crazy, man?"
And you say something along the lines of
"Yeah it was wild..."
and proceed to make googly eyes at the things on the menu that you would never order, like salad, or water, or the peanut butter and Ranch burger with bacon and cream cheese... But wait... it does have bacon on it-
"You know what I'm talking about right, bro?"
"Yeah, man, it was just like that."
The reason it's called training wheeling is because you're basically forced or suckered into being a third wheel by someone else's hand, but you either have nowhere to go or no way out, or are subconsciously being used to help get the girl.
I move that training wheeling be deemed a bro code misdemeanor, chargeable by favors and I.O.U.s.
Ladies and Gentleman, Dog Pissing and Training Wheeling are no laughing matter, and should be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. Unless the retaliation results in a cockblock, which will then cause the retaliation to be postponed to such a time so as cock will not be blocked.
Dog Pissing is where, while you're out somewhere, or maybe even in, you have a girlfriend or a female friend or associate that under normal circumstances, poses no interest in PDA (public displays of affection) but the second that a woman approaches that they find to be a mild threat, you lose every bit of your personal space, and are suddenly walking like you're in England in the 1600s. She's got her arm wrapped around yours while caressing your triceps, holding onto you like a small child in the mall. Or she's just bumping up against you like one of her legs is shorter than the other and she's using you like a bumper. Maybe you're stationary and sitting, and there's a slight potential of a girl to be looking, suddenly you're the funniest guy ever and every time she lays her hand on your arm, she leaves it there just a second too long for you not to notice but just long enough for you to feel like every woman in the area knows that she's just pissed her scent all over you, and so now you're stuck wasting all your jokes on the chick who drops "I see you like a brother" in front of you, her friends, and the rest of the world, as if she can't imagine that you would have any kind of pride or dignity after she's cock-blocked you and played with your head more times than you've played matches of Call of Duty.
Training Wheeling is where you're with a friend, and a woman joins you, and your friend and her hit it off, and you're stuck there sipping your drink and staring off awkwardly everywhere but at them until your friend notices and says something to temporarily include you in the conversation like:
"It was the craziest night of my life! HARHARHAR! Oh, Sonata was there! Wasn't it crazy, man?"
And you say something along the lines of
"Yeah it was wild..."
and proceed to make googly eyes at the things on the menu that you would never order, like salad, or water, or the peanut butter and Ranch burger with bacon and cream cheese... But wait... it does have bacon on it-
"You know what I'm talking about right, bro?"
"Yeah, man, it was just like that."
The reason it's called training wheeling is because you're basically forced or suckered into being a third wheel by someone else's hand, but you either have nowhere to go or no way out, or are subconsciously being used to help get the girl.
I move that training wheeling be deemed a bro code misdemeanor, chargeable by favors and I.O.U.s.
Ladies and Gentleman, Dog Pissing and Training Wheeling are no laughing matter, and should be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. Unless the retaliation results in a cockblock, which will then cause the retaliation to be postponed to such a time so as cock will not be blocked.
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