The Important Unimportance of Sex...

Unimportance isn't a word. Whatever.
So lately I've played the "Other Guy" to a few relationships for a few girls. It was just fun. Everything was so visceral and animalistic that I got to do and express things in the bedroom that I never had a chance to before, or that I hadn't in a long time. It was all about sex and it was phenomenal. At first.
Then, reality set in. I got a text from one of them that said,
"He knows. We can't communicate anymore. I'm sorry."
...
And that was that. Suddenly reality struck me and I felt horrible. I hid behind the notion of, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. We're just two consenting adults having fun... blah blah blah." And then I got that text and it became real. I was destroying a relationship for no real reason at all. And for the third time, I was left there, alone, while she chose him. The one she had a real connection with, and I was as disconnected as I could be. It was an easy decision. It was just sex. She would cry tears for him, and plead his forgiveness, but to me it was just... "We can't communicate anymore."
That easy. They all chose their respective "him" over me in the end, and here I am, just realizing that essentially, I have/had nothing. It's done. He knows.
It sucks. I know I don't have much room to complain. I knew what I was doing was wrong and don't really deserve to be on the winning end of any situation. I didn't offer much needed emotional support in a time of need. I didn't offer an escape and a moment of safety in an abusive relationship. I was no hero. I was just a guy who it looked appealing to hook up with in a moment of weakness. Essentially, I was nothing. And it sucks. It hurts to realize that you were nothing compared to someone else. So I'm done. I'm done interfering in relationships. I'm done offering an escape to something/someone that doesn't warrant escape. I'm going to build my own house to live in. And hope to high heaven I don't get what I deserve.

Sock Diaries... 4/8/2015

I feel like I'm getting lost in a sea of LED lights and fast messaging. Social de-evolution, driven by electronic devices and so-called "social media" services, are slowly driving me out. I crave real, human connection. I would say something like... "People don't connect anymore..." but that would be a lie. People connect all the time. Just less and less often. It's funny because my first love lived in my life solely through electronic devices. They were marvels that had delivered to me the girl of my dreams. Now, I don't look at them with a longing, thinking of what they can do, but of what they can't. I feel like I've forgotten, or maybe I've never known... what it's like to have someone to be a part of, in person. the warmth of reliability. To wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night... connected.
I had a fleeting taste of it, and it was... sweet. But now, instead of that connection gotten by a genuine smile or a look of confusion or discovery at an original idea, it's blind, expressionless thumbs-ups of approval. I've never seen a person genuinely interested in a topic that they gave a thumbs up to after seeing or hearing for the first time even in person. It meant "I acknowledge the existence of whatever this is." Nothing more. But that's what people thrive off of now.
And now that I've felt and seen what it's like to exist in love only through electricity, and lost my taste for it, either I'm too far ahead, or too far behind everyone else. I'm on the outside looking in, but I'm not bitter. I'm not resentful that everyone else doesn't think like I do, and I'm not wallowing in the forever unsatisfying pool of nostalgia, always fruitlessly reminding everyone of days gone by and how great things used to be. I'm envious of others' ability to be happy with something that I can't.
A train has passed, and I'm not sure if I was supposed to be on it, or if everyone else was supposed to get off...

Sock Diaries... 2/16/2015

Where am I, at this point? Ugh. I never know. I'm trying to get my head on straight for work, and girls off of my mind. It's not so easy when you spend most of your waking life thinking about them. But it's definitely not what I need right now. I blame social media. For two reasons, really. First, it's such easy access to only the best parts of other people's lives. The polished, perfectly lit, sepia-toned, smiles-only part. And you feel left out. The second reason is... I can't really blame myself, can I? Of course I can but I don't want to.
I'm not sad, or depressed. Or anything much. But lost. Shit... where do I go next? I apologize for not presenting you with the depraved drama that the Sock Diaries are usually so good about containing, but everything that's happened to me lately has seemed so inconsequential. There was someone in my life that I cared about, who is no longer there, but I can't bring myself to believe that I care all that much. My life has always been easier and more drama-free without them, so honestly, them being there and the fun and satisfaction that I get from their presence was always shadowed by arguments and frustration, and a lowered self-esteem and overall self-worth. With them gone, those high highs and low lows are gone, but being back on level ground isn't as bad as I made it seem before. I got some girls' numbers that all eventually went nowhere. It doesn't bother me, we didn't really hit it off, they were likely just strained relationships waiting to be shoddily and hastily built and ready to fall apart. Not what I'm looking for. The only downside is probably the lack of anyone at all to be there with me. Friend or otherwise. It's all social media conversations and phone calls. I go out alone, eat alone, drink alone, laugh alone. It's something that I knew very well a long time ago, but a condition I dreamed to escape. The loneliness isn't what bothers me. It's that I don't know what one does with solitude. What do I do? Where am I, at this point?

Perfectly adequate... or you could just shoot me in the mouth...

I was once called "pretty good" by a girl I was with. You know... with. As much as I enjoy constructive criticism, all I could actually hear was something along the lines of "You have a small penis, your wife is going to leave you for a french porn star, your children are going to hate you and you'll probably die alone."
I don't know if it's engrained in me as a man, or if it's something that society tells me that I always need to be the best, or if that's just my own personal... hubris. What I do know is, when a man is supposed to be yours and yours alone, you let him know that he's the greatest thing since the wheel. For some reason, almost no man can accept being anything but the G.O.A.T. in your vagina.

In case you want to get him a gift he would actually wear 

to those formal events....

When I think back to the relationships in which I felt the happiest, I remember that it was because the girl or woman I was with made me feel like I was all she needed in the world. Like her list of necessities went as such:

1. Me
2. Oxygen
3. Water
4. Food
5. Me

And it felt amazing. I felt strong, important, and relevant. Now I'm not saying that any or all relationships should be like this, by far. I'm not even saying that my own relationship should be like that. As I go through this jungle of dating with my bulldozer, I realize at every turn that I have no idea what I want. But I know what most men need at least sometimes. It's that feeling of being powerful. Of being the king of his own castle, because we're not all rock-stars who live and breathe by our own schedule. The world is constantly beating us down and reminding us of how low we really are on the totem pole, despite raising us to believe that we should never not be on top. For the relationship "Alphas" the woman (or partners) of the world are our queens, and we hope to be the Kings, if not everyday, for one day once in a while. We want to be the best. Better than anyone else who's ever stepped up to the plate. It's an ego thing. No shit. And many men may grow out of it. But it never hurts to put the effort forward to give your man that throne. Because sometimes, it's either that, or you could just shoot us in the mouth.

Entitled...

If I asked you a simple question, how honest could you be with yourself? Are you ready for that question? Alright.

What do you deserve?

That's it. There are no more clues or hints to it. 

What do you deserve? 

Your friends will say you deserve the best. You don't deserve the bad things that happen to you. You deserve good things to happen to you because you're a good person. And that can be true, but wouldn't your enemies object pretty hard to that?
I don't know if you deserve "better" than what you're getting, but I know that you deserve what you work for. A lot of people automatically think that when someone does something bad to them, like cheating on them, or eating all of the bag fries, that they deserve the exact opposite of that, if they've done nothing wrong. And sure, a lot of you deserve a bag fry or two, but what have you done to get them all. You may not deserve to be cheated on, but what have you done to prove you're worth being exclusive to?
The worst kind of person is the person who believes that just existing is enough to warrant the best from other people. I have yet to encounter a woman who was cute enough in the face, or sexy enough in the body, or rich enough in the bank account for it to no longer matter how they treated other people. This situation has always been in the back of my mind when it came to dating. The balance of power from men to women is always so far off, and not being at least a 7 on the 0-10 rating scale makes it even worse. In most developed countries, dating goes as such:
Man likes woman, man asks woman out on date.
Woman likes man. Woman signals man to ask her out on date in every way except words.
Man and woman go out on date.
Man provides transportation
Man is funny
Man is entertaining
Man picks fun place to go
Man pays for meal-               GO - NO GO
Man seeks to split check       GO - NO GO

At the end of these exasperating dates, one of a few things happens. Either they hit it off so well, and the man was so charming that they go back to a set location and....

Or he did well, but not well enough...

Or he didn't do well and... well, nothing. This situation may vary, but the majority of the time, that's what you get. This is how it works for average looking guys. Of course, if you look like Chris Evans, the world might look a little different for you. I've always been bothered by this offset because I've always known what it was that I had to offer the world. I'm a writer, I'm an artist, I'm a poet. I'm funny, I'm interesting, I'm open-minded. And I had to lay this ALL out on the table for women to deem worthy and unworthy, only to find out later, that she's this boring, closed-minded idiot, and I've just wasted time and money on yet another dead end.
"But it's a buyers market," they would tell me, "and you have to play by their rules." This infuriated me. But it was true. These guys were delivering for free while I sat in the restaurant hoping for someone to come outside in this snow storm. I know that I have a lot to offer, and that life's unfair when you're less than rich and just under beautiful. But all we can hope for is that one day, we meet that special someone who is ready to work for everything that you think that they deserve.

Sock Diaries...: 1/11/2015

I have absolutely no idea why sad people drink. Every time I drink when I'm in a bad mood, everything is worse. I can't focus for more than 30 seconds on one thing at a time. It's like a long version of Flowers for Algernon. If you haven't read that short story, you should. It's amazing. Anyway, in case you haven't gathered from the first couple of seconds, I feel like poop right now. Not exactly as poetic as my last entry, but whatever. Throughout my entire life, women have been at least 85% of my thought process. I used to think that figuring out the mystery to having someone to call my own would fill in all of the emptiness and fix all of my problems. But now that it's not so complicated, and I see that it won't fix anything, I feel myself at a loss for what I'm supposed to be looking for now. I got the closure I thought I needed. I got the attention and the affection, and somehow I wasn't happy. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. I just know that there's this girl...
Maybe I need to go home for a while. Maybe I should stop publishing all of my personal thoughts to the internet for anyone to read.

Sock Diaries...: 1/3/2015

He looked into her eyes, and wanted to give her everything that she had ever wanted. He wanted to make sure that no tear ever reached her chin, and that her brow never furrowed. When she felt lonely, he wanted to be there to hold her. To kiss her hair, to be her hero. Because he was a man. It was his duty. To be the one who comforts, who protects, who saves. But the deeper reality of his desires for her were that when he felt weak, he would be held.

The small boy dreamed of never needing to be held, like he needs now. He needs someone to tell him that everything is going to be alright. He needs someone to tell him that he's smart, and handsome, and loved. There were so many nights when that small boy looked up at the starry sky through teary eyes and wondered if anything he ever did would be enough. Enough to be remembered, enough to be loved... enough to not feel so small. Enough for all those pretty girls to rue the day they called him ugly, enough for all those strong boys to wish they were like him, and not the other way around.
"Look what I drew!" He said, proudly. "Look at this poem I wrote!" he beamed.
"Not right now," they replied. And so he took his work to everyone else. He showed anyone who would look, and spoke to anyone who would listen. "You're so talented, so creative, so intelligent," they told him. And he wasn't alone. When he was with them, he was never alone. Until he went home.
"I want to help people," he said.
"How?" they would ask.
"I don't know. Any way I can." he would reply. He knew they wouldn't take him seriously if he told him the truth. He would be a superhero. A real life superhero. And he would stop the bad guys who made people feel... small. No one should ever feel so... weak. So small...
And he would be remembered. People would love him. They would never let him feel alone. He would never feel small. He would never feel weak. Never forgotten.
He would be big and strong. He would look into her eyes, and give her everything she had ever wanted. Because he would be a man. He would be a hero.