Friday night was wonderful.
Dinner with friends.
Then we took over the patio at the bar.
Two tables and several people standing.
I drank several pitchers by myself and bought several rounds of shots for those who'd drink with me.
Also, why is it that every girl I have the slightest interest in is taken?
Regardless, I decided to go the honest route.
Told her that I knew she was talking to someone, but I think that she is smart/funny/interesting/cute and I'd like the chance to get to know her better, should the opportunity arise.
She took that very well, with a smile on her face and my hand on the small of her back.
Saturday... was a pain in the ass.
My roommate got a phone call from a friend (a girl that I hooked up with a few times back in '06/'07).
She'd been detained by police while the guy she was with was arrested. In Mississippi. Two hours away.
They'd kept her keys and phone and wallet.
Ended up driving two hours there and two hours back to pick her up, since no one else would.
Let her bathe here in the hot tub, got her some clean clothes.
Then she left with some of the people associated with the guy who was arrested.
Whatever. I live with a policy that "everybody gets one."
If I know you, you're entitled to one free, no questioned asked, assist.
Past that, you have to earn them.
That's her one. That'll be her only one unless she gets her life right.
I do my best to keep my sunny disposition.
Some things are easily disguised.
My brown eyes I hide more than most would ever guess.
It's summer and I'm young and healthy and virile.
I'm filled with carnal desires.
I've done well not to abuse situations to satisfy those urges.
That doesn't meant I don't kick myself after the fact.
I tell myself that this is my pilgrimage.
My journey through the desert, heading towards Mecca.
I fast. I cleanse. I prepare.
There's no better advertising (dating wise) than when your ex-girlfriends tell "brag stories" on you.
Seriously, I think that's one of the only things that can make me blush.
Bought my PT Cruiser yesterday afternoon.
My roommates and myself threw a party for a friend who was moving back to town.
We had a house full of people all night.
I got some unexpected texts from someone I hadn't seen in a while and met them.
That's a situation I can't go into, but oh, how it turned out.
The words "thank you for showing me what a real man is" were spoken to me last night.
(I can't tell you how that screws with my head.)
I was awarded the title "Man of the Year" by my roommate for not doing what it was thought a man would do last night.
I was also told last night that "[you] are a great guy... you just find your way into so many weird situations."
I spent the day reflecting on a lot of things from last night.
Being the good guy gains me no favors.
There are still people who hate me unreasonably and are the reason a lot of last night cannot be discussed.
To the contrary of many people's assumptions I went to bed alone last night.
I refuse to exacerbate situations or cause undue harm to anyone (while it is within my control).
However, I will always be a friend and confidant.
I will always support those who need me.
It's a lonely experience.
I have hopes, though.
They are redheaded hopes.
They are smiling, sincere hopes.
They are hopes kindled by the fact that my memory has never died in some hearts.
They are fanned by the laughter and happiness inspired by my friendship.
I bought a PT Cruiser today.
Silver with silver/black interior.
I like it.
No sure information about moving or jobs at the moment.
I am lonely most nights.
However, I will go on.
I have a lot of life to live.
This has been the worst day in a long while, and it continued to get worse and worse.
The culmination was the phone call where my mother picked a fight which led to a 3 hour screaming match.
At this point, it's to be determined if I'll speak to her again.
I'm in a foul mood, irritated, angry, and have no way of letting this off.
I'm seething.
I'm fit to break.
Dear women,
Fuck you. Go die in a fucking fire.
Sincerely,
Me
So, I was killing time this evening, strumming on my guitar and watching acoustic performances on Youtube.
That's where I found her.
Oh, man. Cute as can be, goofy, and plays the ukulele. Those eyes and that little smile... oh, wow.
She said, "I can't get laid in this town without these pointy fuckin' shoes. My feet are so black and blue, and so are you."
- Say Anything, Woe
There's been a noticeable lack of writing on my end. Life has produced nothing new to document and the churning tempest that is my mind has refused all attempts to map its geography. The swell and crash of emotions against the shore of my ego has beaten down the craggy inlets and raised the threat of coastal flooding. I feel like I am staying afloat with only the most threadbare life jacket and a tenuous lifeline, thrashing and beating against the water in futile, flailing movements against the inevitable.
I find myself in a minority that continues to grow smaller by the day. The eternal third-wheel, always the extra baggage on any outing with friends or family. Years ago my friends and I would have laughed at the idea of more than a few of them being wed, with the majority of bets being placed on myself to fall to the ball-and-chain first. Now, here in the present, I am the only one who is not either married or well on their way to that destination. There's a slight agitation in me for the situation being what it is, though I cannot say that I am not just the least bit jealous.
Three years and two months I've been single. The longest period of time since I was fifteen that I have not had a significant other in my life. A length of time that has seen a number of my friends grow and change and accept and embrace positive changes in their lives. I have seen a number of friends married in that time. I have found myself with more and more time spent alone. Related changes? Perhaps. The fact that the longest period of my own singleness happened to fall when most of my friends found their own significant others has not helped, though really I cannot begrudge anyone or anything save the planetary alignments for this particular fault.
For all that has happened, I have been granted a goodly deal of time to spend with myself, mulling over the particulars of my personality and actions. I've dissected myself time and again looking for answers, checking the cadaver of my past carefully, examining each scar and bruise as if they will reveal some great truth. I've learned... well, to say a great deal would be a lie. I've never been terribly deluded about myself, who I am, or the faults and flaws I exhibit. I am more keenly aware of them than ever, though. They stand out blindingly like snow-white scar tissue on the dermis of my being.
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"There is simply a part of me that is broken, and to quote Kay Lee from Firefly, 'Sometimes a thing's broke can't be fixed.'
I understand this, and do my best to move through my days without using that part of me. Surely, a thing can be broken to the point where it is ruined but that says nothing of replacing it. I work through each day building a new machine inside me, structured from emotional cogs and memory bolts. There is supreme wonder and amazement in the human spirit, and I am a mechanic making innovations in mine."
-Will Reaves
12.17.07
I wrote this elsewhere, nearly half a year ago. I'd forgotten about it until for some unknown reason I happened upon it tonight. 6 months past and it still rings true in my ears, heart, and mind. Truth be told, I rarely go back and read what I have written in journals. Occasionally, I will dive back into the past and retrace my steps. My own writings feel foreign to my most times, as if I am reading someone else's words. Especially if it is something moving or poignant. It surprises me that such words might have come from me. In most cases it just serves to make me feel in adequate for not living up to what I could be.