Sometimes I wish
that the train relationships -
the ones that have a perfect beginning when the doors open
(Oh, I've read XYZ book too),
enjoyable middle
(Yas, let's definitely move to Boulder and start a coffee shop / framily),
and no ending -
didn't have to come to such sharp conclusions.
*DOORS CLOSING*
The only time I feel alone is when I'm dating someone because that's the only time someone is suppose to know me but doesn't know me.
When I'm not dating someone, I am my person. Who, or whomever, I take the form of that night, or take the bed of even later that night, is me.
And wrong or right, it is A Perfect Person because:
there are no expectations,
there are no previous experiences,
there are no examples
of me
acting differently than I was in that night/
in those first few dates. So you can't say nuthin'
Oh, and I don't have to answer bullshit questions like, "Are you bipolar?" Because no one asks that until they've been dating for like six months, or something, probably.
Perfect.
Now, I understand that you think straddling me will get my attention,
but babe you gotta understand,
it's not new thoughts that are distracting me, it's ancient memories.
Someone has tried this move on me before- some girl has literally done this exact same thing where she parks her hips on either side of my pelvis in the school girl hopes of provoking the exact same response from me -
and even during that time before, I was thinking about the time before that, and the girl before that
(when I wasn't paying attention).
When I'm in a relationship I am not my own person. I am a person plus a person who is, and if not should be, a perfect person, as to better compliment the, henceforthknownas, Not A Perfect Person (myself).
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of plans that need to go off without a hitch. Hitches Get Stitches.
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of sometimes contradictory, but very self-important thoughts and beliefs that need to not only be understood, realized, and agreed with, but also complimented, and encouraged. Failure To Do So Get Stitches.
The Note A Perfect Person just needs A Perfect Person to complete them without calling out his incompleteness. Too Much To Ask? Get Stitches.
Just Perfect.
And in the great cycle that is a socio-paths life,
I've now re-written prose that I wrote approximately a decade before,
and maybe even earlier if I had a blog then.
There is no escape from this cage that is my mind, THANK GOD.
i guess i knew before i looked what i would find
i mean....duh.
who wouldn't post that?
it's just another tally really in the large social network of life
get a girlfriend
change your Facebook status
get engaged
change your Facebook picture
break up
delete your account
five months later
return to Facebook like you're some kind of hero
i'm not surprised by your engagement
and i wasn't surprised by your relationship
i WAS surprised that you still loved me
but, to be fair, that was a year ago times two
which just means that i will be REALLY surprised when i find out you still love me now
...or at least that's how the dream goes
whomp whomp whommmm
i don't even know what i'm talking about
i'm a slave to the nostalgia
and comforted in old memories bring up old pain
,apparently
on monday mornings,
while hoga teacher is twisting me in painful positions
asking me to do things
my body can't do
i keep thinking
why can't i do this in other areas of my life
bend against what i've always held to be natural/safe
maybe my unhappiness is spurred from my security
unfortunately, i don't have enough unhappiness on most nights,
to detect an origin
it's in the morning, when X or Y or Z leaves
and i sink back into my bed for a short 5 minutes
in order to restore the routine of my wake up;
alone;
as it should be;
for now
to pay someone:
to run her fingers through my hair-
pulling my head closer to her
so she can
whisper in my ear, "how do you like it?'
pushing me away
caressing my scalp
with such power
passion
tea-treeness.
can you get an STD from a $3-with-haircut shampoo session?
i'm not to the point that i'll do this when unnecessary, but damnit alexis, that was worth the three extra bucks.
"wait..." "...yes?" "...because I like cats?" "welllllllllllluh I mean that's just, like, one reason." "what's another reason?" "..." "..." "you don't like dogs more than cats." "that's the same reason." "technically they're two reasons" "I hate you." "Oh, now that's not very nice to say."
==============
i was worried that i had forgotten this feeling,
so i guess in a way i'm grateful that it happened.
the problem is that i know without a shadow of a doubt
what IT is. there's no second guessing, which sucks.
IT is everything i've ever wanted
IT is amazingly powerful
IT is literally gut-wrenching
IT is graceful
IT is really funny
IT is terribly terribly depressing
IT is kinda cute
IT can be debilitating
IT is my dreams
IT brings me to tears
IT both softens and hardens my heart
IT is the accumulation of my life
IT has the potential to be the greatest thing i could have ever done
IT is ART (like real, creative, produced art)
and since IT cannot be mine, i only pray that i forget about it quickly
currently wonder if i actually really wrote the post before this one.
while i burn holes into the back of every blonde haired girl at church
and friend every cute brunette suggested to me on facebook
and talk to every asian waitress in dallas.
oh, you want to be married?
odd, because i'd say that opposite by your actions.
"i think you're selfish."
"i agree", but you have a dirty mouth and that's not very becoming of a lady.
it's funny to see you make that look in that facebook video-
because it's the same look you use to make me in other videos long ago.
also, tell your effing boyfriend to quite checking me out on linkedin.
please excuse me, everyone, for not calling to break up with her after the second date.
it was my bad for calling her back after the first.
to be a man
be a man
be a man
be a man
be a fucking man
if that's not your goal, then what is?
In the beginning of the third act, the main character decides that it might be worth having a girlfriend. Interestingly enough this realization does not come to the main character after a long monologue reflecting on his loneliness, or even an upbeat dance number filled with his best friends teasing him for being without a lady on New Year's Eve, rather Nate decides one morning after his annual Christmas party that he should probably consider dating someone with a good memory so she can recount to him the funny things that happen while he is drunk. The reviewer questions the legitimacy of this decision, and notes that it's just another artistic decision by the playwright that could make this show too unrealistic to be enjoyable...by anyone.
every day i am taken aback by our culture's repressed sexual economy.
it's definitely a free market, folks
"i've been fooled by a pretty face in a facebook profile before"
is everyone's greatest fear that one day someone will look them in the eye and say, "how did i ever love you?"
...yeah, me neither, pweefs.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
UPDATE: forgot to apologize to the girl i randomly facebook chatted and talking about marriage with. also the girl who i told for 5 months that i didn't want a relationship and then last night made a joke about how no girl would ever want to date me.
dear girl i went to happy hour with last night, will you excuse me while i ask out a girl on a date for tonight.
dear girl i asked out on a date for tonight, will you excuse me while i bunburry with my friend to KC so i can see another girl who i've promised me heart to?
dear girl i've promised my heart to in KC, will you excuse me for living in Dallas?
dear girl at work i had a sex dream about and then had to be in a one on one meeting with the next morning. that was awksome!
My life is summed up in my cellular device:
i care a cracked screen, slow as shit, iPhone 3G;
2 years old, barely runs.
But somehow I still find a way to hold it above people.
People with Blackberrys, Androids,
effing "feature phones".
In reality, what is it that I'm holding out for?
Why am I not Beyonce'ing that shit?
"lemme lemme upgrade ya!"
What do I think is worth hanging on to?
And why do I think it's still better than what you have?
Why am I convinced that I have it figured out.
I don't. I don't. Lord knows I doesn't don't do not.
If someone tells you you're the best at your job, doesn't that mean it's time to find a new job?
If someone tells you they love you, what does that mean?
Find a new lover that's slightly better?
Oops.
Why the fuck would anyone love me when they could love the thought of dating James Franco?!
(let's pretend like they haven't seen his part in Pineapple Express)
BUT SERIOUSLY.
God.... good lord baby jesus?
should i just fall into the trap of that awkward girl at church because it's what you want me to do?
didn't i see you at that dallas restaurant? pull up in the passenger side of the mercedes-benz coupe with the SMU bumper sticker?
didn't we exchange glances and pleasant smiles as i walked by you to my table?
didn't i catch you looking over at date when she got up to go to the rest room?
didn't you sub-consciously lightly rub your 2 carat diamond ring?
didn't i see you nonchalantly smile my way, again, when you were getting up to leave?
didn't i watch you turn back, one more time, to look at our table before walking out the door? wanted one more peep before stepping into the mercedez-benz coupe with the SMU bumper sticker?
are you jealous?
are you longing for the days before the days you're in?
are you wondering if you cashed your chips in too soon?
are you wishing you hadn't cashed your chips in so soon?
are you wanting to trade the coupe, the .0111111111 year old child, the showtime sunday nights--
for something else?
is it my 8 o'clock shadow?
is it my messed up hair?
is it my lack of ring on the left hand, and the white teeth underneath the slight grin?
what is it that makes you think i'm better than your bland, cookie cutter, dark haired, fishing shirt, top-sider, banker?
maybe you think i'm a musician-
or maybe you think i'm an artist.
or maybe you are just so incredibly bored with your life that you're reaching out for any and all fantasies that could liven up your daily day dreaming.
(am i the fodder for the starving dreams of suburban housewives?
[surely i'm not muscular enough])
it is probably true that it's something in the water that makes people in TX marry so young.
either that or it's just all the hot blondes that need to be making memories when they're still blonde and not platinum.
but still it's got to be painful.
there's no growing up.
there's high school, one date party, and then marriage.
in the office early when september grabs my heart
*grab*
*yank*
*pull*
doubled over on my desk,
clutching my chest
OAHEJJKSDADnkjnjksdfnjksdfweLKJ
!!!!
!!!
!!
!
september sinks its claws into me and starts pulling
pulling me closer to october
and eventually november
damnit...november
and the avett brothers pain my heart
and iron and wine is like a cigarette burn on freshly healed skin
does not feel good
nostalgia
nostalgia
In an effort to prove wrong the multiple women who have come in my life optimistic for relationship, and then exited quickly, proclaiming, "There's no hope for you!"; I've decided to have a child.
A child would be the perfect vehicle for displaying my high level of responsibility, value of human life and emotion, and my -quote-unquote- "feelings" (which I do have, thank you!).
Therefore, any willing hosts should apply by leaving a comment after this post.
Thank you.
Please only serious inquiries. I hold full discretion to refuse services of applicants I deem not suitable. By volunteering for this opportunity, you are obligated to accept my sperm by act of my choosing. I am also in no way liable for your health, feelings, or desire for relationship during the terms of our agreement. Actually, there will be no relationship, and should you, at any time, happen to be in close proximity with me, my child, and a potential romantic interest, you are to act like we don't know each other. In fact, it might be best if we don't know each other. Offer not valid in New Mexico.
It's really difficult to lose someone from your life. To go to bed and say your prayers, and know that one of those people is no longer on earth. No longer walking around their house, doing chores and stuff. It's really difficult to keep living your life in Dallas when you think about what if someone else I love could maybe one day soon not be walking around their house doing chores and stuff? some could say it could be very difficult. but i guess that's what separates the people that excel at life and the people that fail at life. of course, if failing at life means more time with those i love, then consider me a loser. a big old loser.
Now so older stuff I've been meaning to post. Older but not wiser. Probably just as weird and self-conscious though!!!
=================================
This is my idea for my Match.com profile
I would like to be in a relationship. A really serious one. I am fantastic with commitment. Just A plus plus plus. Basically, I don't even care who the girl is, I care more about the relationship! So if you wanna get married, step right up! No experience necessary. You don't have to do anything! Except like be perfect, actually. I mean, come to think of it, I would prefer to just date my soul mate and not waste my time on these dates. Also I don't want to talk to you about how much money I make. Or tell you about my dad's job. I'd rather talk about dreams. And music. And maybe my ex-girlfriend. Yes, must be open to talking about mothers and ex-girlfriends. Mainly mothers though.
Call me!
Now this poem sums up my thoughts about being young and single in the workplace and having to work with slightly older (25-30?), married, attractive, and flirtatious professional females. I like to think that it illustrates the point that although secretaries complain that they're treated like a piece of meat- young men in the workplace can sometimes feel like giggalos.
We met at a bar,
of course a bar,
but for work, right?;
still a bar.
You had straight teeth.
Your hair was blonde,
color of Kryptonite,
so I told myself it was suppose to be brown.
I think it would probably look better brown.
Have you thought of that?
Of dying your hair brown?
I mean,
you do have big brown eyes.
Regardless of your hair,
I did appreciate the conversation,
the jokes,
the flirtatious elbow touches,
the dreams of us running away together.
The thought that maybe you could put me under some spell that would allow me to forget my current curse. Until one day I show up at your door and I find you with your bags packed and you're saying some crazy stuff like "I'm leaving for Chicago, I told you three months a go I was moving and what the hell nate do you never listen when I talk to you?!!"
and I'm all like, "SAYYYYYYY WHAT?"
However....
I did not appreciate the ring on your finger.
That evil piece of carbon,
clinging so tightly to your left hand ring finger,
wrapped by the devil's hands himself,
so tight that as you grow fatter (probably from eating all those M&Ms that they gave us to snack on during the brain storm session. Don't act like I didn't see you eat all those!) it will squeeze all the blood to the top of the digit
until the very tip of your finger is a bright red cherry tomato about to pop all over my shirt and OH MY GOD, YOU'RE BLEEDING ON MY SHIRT! THIS IS FROM BROOKS BROTHERS AND IT WAS NOT ON SALE! AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO WASH THIS WITH- COLD WATER? X, SOMEBODY GET ME AN ICE CUBE! UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
(see also: my heart)
So you're married.
So what.
We can network.
We can talk about social media.
Great.
Awesome.
I'm going to go stick my head in the sink and water-board myself.
Oh you're going to email me your info?
FAN-TASTIC!
This is my idea for a poem about still possibly being in love with an ex girlfriend who is in love with someone else, but you both still want to be friends because you both still really care for the other one but it's just awkward and confusing and messy, and phone calls never really end right for either party, and you don't know what to do because like I already said there's a chance that there are still feelings there, but I mean, I don't know it could just be remains of nothing and I don't want it to stop us from being friends, right?
Is this what it's come to? A huge tribunal council where I must apologize to any girl I ever hit on, led on, or made fall in love with me?? This kind of task could only be accomplished by the most narcissistic of aspiring writers. of narcissistic aspiring writers with only 30minutes before they leave for work but with some unexpected desire to actually write something again. anything again.
so i apologize, for writing you that note in seventh grade. and i'm sorry to your parents for having to deal with you after. but i think we're even because i think you're married.
and i'm sorry for telling you i'd still talk to you when i moved to oklahoma, but c'mon.
i'm sorry for making you fall in love with me in hafer park. and in fort worth, texas. and college station, and houston, and kansas city, and maybe new york? but not dallas. and i'm sorry for a lot of things but mainly for the fact that i let you get in the relationship you're in now. and i'm not sorry for saying that.
i'm sorry for causing you to believe that i wanted anything more than a distraction from apologizing.
i'm sorry for whatever i told you at The Moon that night. honestly, i can't for the life of me remember what i said.
i'm sorry for that night i made you fall in love with me in austin. you were a good dancer, but why did you text me the next day? (x2)
i'm sorry for making you fall in love with me when i visited (charleston / chicago).
all apologies for making you fall in love with me in my cubical. this one is not going to be fun to deal with i can already tell.
most importantly, i'm sorry to YOU for believing that this life is better than pursuing You first before finding her. I've started atleast. I mean, it's been a good 3 months, right? Slow, lonely, sad, but good?
