Do you ever look at an old person and think “that’s what I have to look forward to?” myself and my spouse, god-willing we reach a combined age of 170, with our skin wrinkled and falling off the meat like baked chicken. At what point do you stop caring about what someone looks like and care more for who they are? Is there ever that point or does sexual appetite die when the skin starts falling off the chicken?

Shallow, I know.

I’ve spent some time with the other group comic nerd in the past few days and after looking up something that he claimed with conviction “I have a degree in that so there’s nothing I don’t know about it.” he was wrong. That conversation started but us talking about working out and I brought up this, to which he said wasn’t even real. Now, having a degree in anything doesn’t make you more than a journeyman of that information. Mastering anything takes honing down a set into a refined version. This is why we have general education, a major, masters degrees and PHDs. We never totally master anything because rules change so frequently, particularly with technology and medicine. But even in art styles the rules change to modern and post modern and grunge and hard-core and modern Street art has different rules than modern writing.

I’ve known for a while that he talks bigger-hypes himself up. Some type of complex that makes him feel the need to be the smartest person in the room. An arrogance for intellect. He’s smart, I don’t want to give that impression. But he rants more about half pieces of information or just claiming things with a conviction that make him seem right. And when you question him on it, he proclaims superior intellect over all his surrounding subjects.

And I thought mommy and daddy didn’t hug me enough as a kid…

He’s a friend, but a small dose type. I’m sure I have ways that I feel the need to express my dominance in situations, but certainly not the point where I need to tell people how smart I am or randomly pick women up (physically) to show a contest of strength. I have complexes, I’m sure. But I don’t need people to think I’m something that I’m not. I’m a smart guy, and I can manage conversations well in most any context and most disciplines. I’m also very strong for my size, but I don’t feel the need to pick people up when they say they could beat me in a physical confrontation. As has been the case when he’s picked women up (physically).

I have no interest in being involved in dick measuring contests. So I usually just turn away when he starts getting riled up.

But seriously, hug your kids.

I’ve basically been in a relationship since I moved to Maryland. I dated a really nice girl who got married this weekend for about eight months. Five months after we parted ways, she was engaged. I really feel like I dodged a bullet. About a month after we parted ways, I started dating a girl that I worked with. And that break-up was the inspiration for me to start putting my thoughts into a blog. Not because I think anyone cares, but more of a self-awareness/satisfaction type thing where I needed somewhere to vent. Given my usual party crowd, there’s not a lot of feeling swapping stories to go around.

Ever since I started telling people about this, I’ve kind of withdrawn myself and been a little less candid with my own thoughts than I ought to be. Fuck that. That’s stupid. I realize now that my audience is more than just myself. But I’m still not writing this because other people are interested. I needed an outlet and this is that.

About two weeks ago I started fooling around with a girl that lives in my building. That’s convenient, right? Also, Thursday night I went out with a crowd of folks that I wandered off from here and there. Among those out that night were the multi-dater and his new one seed. He told me that he, nor she, felt that Tinder-girl and I are a good match. I inquired further. He elaborated, “she’s not as wild as you are.” I take that as a compliment, honestly.

As for the convenient partner… That situation is weird as shit. Also, I’ve heard from several people that the den mother and I are going to end up together. The convenient partner and I are still working on our ground rules as fuck buddies. Over the weekend her and her roommates had a joint birthday endeavor for her roommate and another friend of theirs. There were a lot of females. One in particular I was jazzed up about. So, being told by the convenient partner that we shouldn’t be on each other in public (maybe the name should change to the dirty little secret.) I went pretty hard after this girl who told me that she couldn’t do anything because she didn’t want to cock block her friend. After that night, I got told that I shouldn’t blatantly hit on other people with her around.

So, I’m not allowed to show interest in her (not that I’m interested in dating her.) and I’m not allowed to hit on other people. It’s a situation I’m detaching myself from. Despite the convenience sake of it all, there are a lot of rules. I don’t like rules. It’s dumb. It’s all really dumb. And the absolute last thing I want is to have feelings getting hurt getting involved.

I’m not a jealous person. Much less so when I’m not committed to someone. You’re not mine, I’m not yours. Do what you want. Tinder-girl and I had that conversation a while back. But with the convenient partner, it’s only convenient when it’s 10 pm and either of us are looking for a little play time. Other than that, it’s very inconvenient.

The serial sex artist has been frequenting his time with one gal. Though he’s not isolated his time to her, she’s very much his one seed. Seems he and I have switched roles. Though, I have neither the time, concern, or patience to micro-manage a phone number full of women, I’m still involved in debauchery of my own accord.

The job is a wack attack (that means it sucks). The money isn’t where I thought it would be. Nor as easy. Also, seeing random people that I don’t really interact, it’s very hard to tell them that this a necessary evil and part of a much grander plan. It’s an option as long as I need it to be one. Hopefully after September, the need for the option will have abated.

During my sabbatical, I was stressed about finding something to generate revenue. Now I have revenue generation and I’m stressed out because I hate small talk and having to fake being polite to people. “Sorry dude, your wife is a biggity-bitch”. But instead I have to suck it up and be semi-polite. On my Ps and Qs, as it were. I have the next two days from the job.

Time with Tinder-girl has been scarce. I’m persistent as always, but the time isn’t there. The convenient partner has a lot of rules. I’ve known for a long time what I can do and what I can’t. Perhaps this situation(s) is more problematic that I could initially guess. Maybe I need a reevaluation. Tinder-girl and I get along marvelously well when we’re together, but getting together is rare.

I’m not naive to believe that a perfect instance of serendipity will come my way. I’m not going to meet a dream girl will my schedule is so sporadic. I need to withdraw myself a little more and focus wholly on myself. The convenient partner should be convenient for that. However, of the girls that I am interacting with, nothing seems to be budging in any direction. Positive nor negative with these young lasses. Obviously, it’s not worth diving into if I haven’t already done so.

I’m also totally over the alcohol filled caves of Friday and Saturday night. DJ Panda isn’t cutting it anymore. Give me house parties or leave me be.

“May you find what you’re searching for, and recognize what you need for they are seldom the same.”

I was asked by the den mother to give my perspective on this.

I honestly wouldn’t say anything about it, but I’m a crowd pleaser. There’s two parts to this. The first part is how dating and courting a young lass are dying. Virtues, morals, chivalry, dead. The second thought is how stupid my generation is for bringing things like this about.

We’ve grown up to believe in Disney romances, true love, and a bunch of other stuff that’s basically a fairy tale. Not that love isn’t real, but you’re never going on a magic carpet ride with a princess and a monkey. Likewise, the reality of it is just like Dave Chappelle said. “Chivalry is dead and women killed it.” He claims that women flooded the market with that vajayjay and murdered chivalry because it no longer forces guys to work for anything. Then, the bad boy thing became popular. A guys switched over to wearing white shirts and jeans to bars and clubs. Classic James Dean. Then, you wonder why he cheated on you with your best friend when you went to a bacholette party! Because you wanted the bad boy.

It’s a social dynamic of a lot of things. We’ve created a culture where we all do what we do because it either gets us laid, or because our friends will make fun of us if we don’t. That’s why we congregate in clicks. Hipsters, wiggers, skaters, emo kids… these terms stem from somewhere. Sub cultures of a bigger society. The older generations are very politically correct. Well, the naive ones are.

I’ve mentioned the duality before. Our generation is littered with it. “I want a lady in the streets, but a freak in the bed.” Good luck. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist, but the alcohol filled caves of Friday and Saturday night meeting a lady who’s coming home with you that night, isn’t a lady.

Our generation is creating this mess from being spoon fed the unintelligible banter from Stephanie Meyers and whomever wrote Fifty Shade of Grey. I recently had a young lass tell me that my vocabulary is very good because I used the word ‘privy’ in a sentence… It’s a five letter word, Sugar Britches, I’m not creating algorithms to reinvent computer languages. We eat up Real World, Survivor, and all kinds of other stupid shows that we find ourselves engrossed into a weekly basis. We shy away from written text, and I won’t say classically well written because I don’t like a lot of the classically great artists.

Andy Warhol sucks.

I get shit from people sometimes because I read comics. Well Joss Whedon has a stint on Astonishing X-Men that’s really spectacular! You may know him from Firefly and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He also did the Avengers movie. It’s a great piece of work.

We need to moving towards something with a lot more value. Not something that involves people dating naked on television. We are the generation of entrepreneurs and the next big thing. Sadly that only really applies the dreaded 1% of my generation. The ones half of my friends bitched about a few years ago. Heaven forbid you should keep what you’ve earned. Even worse, you paid for them. Steve Jobs never donated to charity and everyone has an Iphone.

Moving for, Millenials, lets make smarter moves. Dig deeper in our research. Take less things at face value and look more at the big picture. Expand your horizons.

Don’t ask for it, go out and win it. Do that and you’ll be rewarded.

This weekend was pretty boring. I started my restaurant job that will be referred to as ‘the job’. I spent a lot of the end of last week eating free food and hearing about other people’s sex lives. Basically a normal week, except there was free food. Friday I left the job and went to a going away bonfire for the girl who is a terrible kisser. I drank some sangria (gross) and cider beers (double gross). I left around one and she tried really hard to put the moves on me.

I weaseled out of that and came home. I hung out with some buildings folks.

Saturday, I worked thirteen hours at the job. Then, I went out with the usual suspects. The other comic nerd of the group seemed to have a chip on his shoulder that led him to be loud and obnoxious. I don’t really know what sparked any of it. I showed up late and had a 40 ounce of King Cobra.

I met a ballerina over the weekend who was very hurt and angry over ending a relationship in the middle of last week and used several unflattering phrases to describe her distaste with her situation. Her boyfriend of several years bailed because he wasn’t ready to put a ring on it. I don’t know the details of everything, but I think it was sort of “we missed our slutty experimental years because we were dating.” So he bailed. I was super nice to her.

I did not enjoy going out Saturday. I was bored with it from start to finish. I came back and fell asleep talking to my neighbor. No funny business though! I was a good kid all weekend! I did also spend Sunday with Tinder-girl. She’s still quality.

The usual debauchery has abated. I’m bored with the antics. I’m bored with the atmosphere. I usually get the debauchery with the usual suspects but now that the appetite is sated through the job, I can see myself deviating from the normal. Also, the hogwash with Popz will likely change a lot of my desire to drink.

My dad has an affect on me that motivates the hell out of me because he’s such a waste of space. It scares me to my bones that I could end up like that one day.

I’m starting to get the wheels in motion for an art show in August and to work on a side project with the den mother. I’ve got my hands full for a maximum amount of work in a minimum amount of time. The job is a necessary evil to ensuring that I stay here.

“While I breathe, I hope.”
South Carolina Motto

 

Boys grow up thinking their dad is the greatest man on earth. He’s strong, fast, damn near unstoppable. I grew up the same. I believed my dad was the epitome of man. When I was a pup my dad was better than Spider-man and Wolverine and Captain America to me. My parents got divorced when I was in first grade or kindergarten, I don’t really remember.

I spent weekends with Popz and the week with Momz (they are in my phone under those names). My dad was the fun one. He was goofy and pretty carefree. My dad is a jack-of-all-trades. These are things we both have in common. When I got to be about twelve my dad told me, “I’ve spent every weekend for the past few years watching you and your sister. I’d like to have some time to myself now.” I didn’t think anything of it until I was about seventeen or so and realized my dad ditched out on being a parent because he wanted to date a married woman.

Fuck that.

My dad always talked about women and always drank a lot. He has no ambition for anything, and from what I can gather never has. The world beat him down to the point that the only things he ever found solace in were booze and vagina. He’s a large part as to why I think the way I do. Treating people like that isn’t good. My dad was one of the best role models I’ve ever had because he showed me what not to do because he did it that way right in front of me.

My dad and I don’t see eye-to-eye on anything. But he is my father. We are Champeys.

My dad was admitted to the hospital last week for heart stuff. My first thought was “thanks for shitty genetics, Popz.” Since then I’ve been struggling with family. The idea of it more-so that the reality of it. I’m not a family oriented person. Mainly because I really don’t have anything to talk about. My family can rattle of Gamecock knowledge and information about their favorite NFL team, but at soon as the conversation goes outside of their niche sport/team it dies. Honestly, I can only talk about Dillon Thompson for so long before I have to tell them that he sucks as much as Connor Shaw did. To which I get turned on because I’m not bias. My family is really hard to talk to about anything. Limited scope, limited perspective, hardcore and ingrained perspectives. Not a lot of folks who’ve peaked outside their tiny little box.

My dad is no different. Before my grandmother passed away in January, I hadn’t talked to my old man in four years. And why should I? I’ve tried and tried to make an effort that gets pushed under the rug like an empty vodka bottle. I guess I shouldn’t expect much of a man who didn’t really give a shit about minding his children as they grew up.

Now, I’m not sure what my reaction should be. “For Family, For Honor.” Do I need to be there? It would be the bigger person type move. Honestly, talking to my dad puts me in this huge rut where I’m afraid that I’ll end up like him. So, it’s probably best that I don’t.

I don’t really know what type of writing this is supposed to be, but the way this blog started was for me to just get some ideas down and out of my system. Especially when I was struggling to figure out what to do after a break-up. I never deal with emotional stuff well and I always pull myself away from people so I don’t have to burden them with anything.

I’m sure I come off arrogant in this. That’s fine. I don’t really agree with a lot of my family. But you can’t pick your family, your lineage, and all that jazz. You can pick how you treat even the worst of people. My dad isn’t the worst, but he’s everything that I never want to be.

I know I’ll talk to him soon. I really want him to wake up and make more effort with things.

I’ve made tons of mistakes in my life. This won’t be another one. Even if I don’t want help, I need to be there hands out ready to pick an old man up.

[Insert inspiration one-liner]

I spoke this weekend in a lot of detail with a good friend of mine that I went to high school and lived with in college. She and I go way back and she’s an avid reader of this blog which entails my personal debauchery. She’s requested a nickname, like the serial sex artist or the multi-dater, which she claims make my friends sound like anti-heroes to the night life. She will be referred to as “the den mother”. She has a very maternal presence and usually nags me more than my actual mother.

So the den mother and I are talking about dating and life and all that hogwash. She’s telling me that these guys she’s been with are intimidated by her because she presents herself like a lady but is wild in bed according to proclamations of her sexual endeavors. She’s actually marveled that I’ve never gotten a blowjob that was just a bj. She’s told me about guys who worry too much, get sexual anxiety, and all kinds of things like that. This is where I told her that I’ve stopped in the middle of sex because the girl I was having coitus with wasn’t enjoying herself. Which the den mother also marveled at and I made some joke about related to getting myself off in a quarter of the time and having more time to get other things done rather than wasting someone’s time. Sex is mutual and if you aren’t in it yourself don’t bother being in it for me. Obviously, I’m not selfish in bed. I’m in it for all parties!

The den mother and I transitioned into conversations about ideal mates. To which I’m starting to realize, as I’ve gotten older, takes on a less physical description and more about aligning personalities. As is with her. Neither of us could really say a physical description that was specific. I think fit and blue/green eyes is about as physical as I’d get. Sorry brown-eyed girls. The majority of her’s was vague as well until it got into the discussion about personality types. She loves how passionate I am about things and has dated a few guys who don’t really have hobbies or seemingly anything that gets them riled up and hates that. I love the world around me and I’m usually constantly raring to go about anything.

I made the statement to her that we usually present ourselves as to what we’re attracted to. She initially disagreed so I elaborated. We don’t present ourselves to a 100% as to what we’re attracted to if we did we’d all be dating the same sex. I’m fit, tattooed, creative, smart, very funny (tooting my own horn), and passionate. I like tattoos on women unless it’s patchy and white-trashy like Amy Winehouse. I like a sense of humor and someone who can keep up with my physically and mentally. Being able to run and play tennis together is as important to me as having a good conversation. Being knowledgeable of the world around you helps with conversations. The den mother was starting to see where I was getting at with my initial statement. Equal and opposites is another phrase I use. Someone who pushes you in all of the right ways but also gets you to do some things you wouldn’t normally do. For example, I think it’s cute when women drink wine or if your go-to is a cocktail. I’m a beer guy. I’ll drink wine or cocktails here and there but the majority of my debauchery comes with 12 ounce.

The den mother and I continued this conversation to discuss things like how you prioritize certain things. The example that came up was sex. She’d said she’d been thinking about sex almost constantly Saturday. So my obstreperous, asshole, nature kept making sexual innuendos to create a self-imposed agony to her. She was saying how disappointed she was with the guy who got performance anxiety and talked about how much of a “freak” she is. I talked about how I’d rather have someone who is athletic over sexual adventure. Not that I want someone who isn’t sexually adventurous, but I’m more adventurous than any of the girls I’ve dated and I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m probably going to be more adventurous than whoever I date next (if anyone).

She eventually came around to my understanding that it’s about 60-65% of things that align with you and the way you present yourself and 35-40% different things. Equal and opposite. Give and take. But I suppose this adds an extra element to that when you begin to express the importance of certain attributes and prioritize them. For example, I don’t care if someone I’m dating is creative. But there’s a good chance I’m going to stop and admire typefaces or good design along the way. Also, you will be dragged to an art museum or two. Which is just a super cute date, honestly. I cook pretty well, so it doesn’t bother if someone I’m seeing doesn’t cook well. Just leave it me!

Where the den mother is a pretty passionate person herself, she likewise needs someone who gets excited about things as well. I’m not sure how that priority ranks against sexually adventurous but I know it’s something she cares about in a mate. Likewise, creative and smart are things she values. She’s musically inclined and likes someone who is also involved in some time of art or creative outlet. Personally, I just like a girl to have some hobbies. I don’t care if you’re a gym rat, runner, painter, writer, just do something that gets your blood pumping.

As much as I’m involved in sports and how much I watch sports, I think it’s adorable when girls don’t know anything about sports. I know that’s weird, but it’s true.

The den mother told me about a guy she met in the gym who is Jesus-ripped and the first few times they hung out she second guessed herself because he’s in the like the 99th percentile of physical fitness. This was the beginning of her counter argument. Not that she isn’t athletic, this guy is just an extremely fit person. So she second guessed why he would want to hang out with her when they first started hanging out. Perhaps, he just prioritized fitness in others less than he prioritized it for himself. After all, when you a level like that, it’s kind of hard to find anyone to keep up.

Also, genetics can screw you up big time with fitness. An old friend of mine ran a marathon twice a week and ran about ten miles a day and he still “overweight”. He was vegetarian at the time as well. But the effort for the gym/fitness is what made the difference. I’m pretty little. I’m 6’0 and weigh about 160-165. I’ll never be super ripped because my metabolism and body type. My point in this portion is that the effort for certain prioritized qualities sometimes means more than the actual quality.

It’s a real testament that we (as people) value and differ in certain things. My initial argument stems more from our hobbies and likenesses and we typically find mates in that. If you play soccer 6 days a week, it’s pretty likely you’ll date someone who plays soccer a lot. If you spend a lot of time in the comic shop, it’s pretty likely you’ll find attraction with someone in the comic shop. We find attraction on different levels and I’ve been just as attracted to a moderately attractive girl who can hold a good conversation as I’ve been a beautiful girl in the gym. Another case where absolutes are few and far between.

Another friend of mine from South Carolina texted me Friday and said that her boyfriend told her that he would still love her if she were fat.

My response was, “I would/will not ever say that anyone. I’m pretty fucking shallow.”

I quit my job at the end of May. I spent a little over a month trying to find a hole to crawl into that I’d get two years into a quit. I’m ambitious. I knew that they were all stepping stones. None of the jobs that I’m qualified for are jobs that I want in the next twenty years. Thus, I’m in a transition.

I had an interview on Friday for a restaurant server job. One of the questions he asked me about why I wanted to get back into the restaurant game came out as pure bullshit in the moment. It was about the continuity of working in a restaurant. The cohesion. I honestly miss that because in the last job I had, there was no cohesion and no matter what I did or whom I told I couldn’t get any flow going.

Bringing things together and having them gel is hard. I’d more often than not, rather just doing everything on my own. I get all of the credit or I take all of the fall. But I understand that working in a 200+ people company I can’t do it all on my own. So I had to incorporate a little project management once the job got in my hands. Where else does it need to go? How long will they take? How much time is left before this is due?

I took the job because I need money, but I need something simpler and more flexible. I’m pursuit of a larger game right now and in order to do that, I had to shell off the formality of a romantic job title and take some time to generate fast income. I needed a bigger and better plan. My sabbatical sufficed in giving me that. This move is going to require a lot of work so it’s good that my logical mind is resurfacing.

I’ve been reading this book recently. I’ve had it in my library for ages and just haven’t really touched it. I’m a quarter of the way through it and a lot of it deals with the process, design brief, rules, grids, etcetera. One of the biggest things that my professor told me in college is that I needed to settle down a refine my design and drop a lot of other things. I was never able to do that. Which is why I’m not stellar at anything. I don’t want to give up comics, the gym, soccer, running, writing, and other things to help me focus on one specific thing. One of the lines in the book is “Do Other Stuff”. That’s vague enough, but I got it! It’s really coming back to me. A lot of the tips and skills and ideas about getting these things right is coming back to me.

I’m excited to see where this leads me. This new path is going be incredibly difficult.

But I’m motivated.

I’m raring to go!

It was brought up to me this weekend that I’m a little less innocent in person than I seem on the internet. Honestly, I hope that’s not the case. I think we all have a way we describe ourselves and my adjectives are ‘whimsical, obstreperous, savage, energetic, passionate’ I’m sure there’s more but that’s the basic jist of it. I’ve very much romanticized life and I don’t think being a dreamer is a fallible trait. And I am striving for something bigger than myself.

With that being said, I’m a bit of a loose cannon. I am high energy and kind of wild. I have a tendency to randomly leave the group, read comics on my phone in bars, and wander off to go home. I dance my ass off when I get a chance. And I drink too much. I don’t usually flirt with rando-broads while out and about. But, obviously I’ve hooked up with more than just three girls that I’ve dated for any length of time. Take the term “hook-up” however you want to in this context.

None of this means that I’m not trying to be bigger and better tomorrow than I am today. For me that’s the goal. Obviously, in dating there are a few variables. People acting falsely to manipulate a situation, alcohol, and peer pressure. It boils down to a lot of variables and absolutes are pretty few and far between. I’m not embarrassed by any of what I’ve done in my life. I’m very happy with myself and who I am. Honestly, how many people can say that? The mistakes I’ve made have led me to the be a person that I am happy with; the sum of all my parts, both good and bad.

With all that being said, I drink, I go out, I’ve hooked up with a handful of nice young ladies. I’ve not talked to some of them afterwards. I’m twenty-seven. I’m a romantic. But being on the receiving end of romance is something you have to earn. Wasting a lot of time and effort on someone who isn’t worth it or someone who isn’t going to appreciate it is dumb. I’ve spoken before about the efforts of a give and take. Some people just take, take, take, and those aren’t worth putting for the full extent of my efforts. I’m polite and always hold doors, pick things up, and generally help out where I’m a capable. But, I’m not perfect. Nor do I want to be. That’s a lot of pressure.

Recently, I realized that I’m starting to switch back to a more independent and logical mindset. This is going to kill your romantic perception of me. When I’m dating someone, it usually takes me two-three months to get some sort of emotional invest and start working toward us. After two-three months of being single, the opposite happens. I become emotionally detached from things and generally stop caring about most things. It makes me work harder, have more projects, and increases my personal level of diligence. I’m not longer hindered by the concept of emotional nostalgia. It sounds terrible, but it’s a subconscious thing. Lack of sex and certain intimacy lead to some type of emotional falter where I subconsciously shell up because I don’t have a reason to show emotional investment.

I can’t really explain it, but I’m moving towards that. I’m moving towards a more rational, logical mindset and on that’s less invested in giving myself to someone but rather giving myself to my work. Certainly more selfish and less motivated by “something bigger than myself.” I think this also creates a lot of my “boyish” nature. I’m not motivated by sex. Shocking I know. It creates that innocence because I don’t have hidden motive in conversations with people. Sex becomes sex. Which my perspective of is already kind of mutual. I’ve had sex with lasses who didn’t enjoy themselves and just stopped because sex is mutual. I can handle my business in a quarter of the time and spend the rest of the time working on something productive. So if you’re not going to enjoy yourself with me, lets not waste each other’s time. I’m sure there’s some idiot out there who would love to treat you like a cum-dumpster.

Love it or hate it, that’s what you get. This is who I am. Take it or leave it.

I’m not there yet, but I feel it coming on. And here’s the really terrible part… I’m really excited to sit back and work on projects. Lord knows there’s enough shit on my To-Do List to keep me occupied for a life time.

I’m about two months, probably a little more, past my second break-up I discovered this article. It hit me like that sound from 127 hours when James Franco plucks his nerves. Except way less violent. After both relationships I cried, even after I believed I didn’t have any tears left to shed. I made the same mistakes, in a variety of ways. Of all the notes that she mentions number three is hardest. I’m totally down to go to my significant other’s sporting events, performances, etc, because I love when someone does those things for me. Also, exponentially more important to have someone after I finish playing soccer to kiss in declaration of “This Is Mine!”

I don’t date someone because I need you to be mine. I date someone because I want to you to be proud to be with me as I am with you. I want to be yours. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made mistakes with this along the way. I didn’t have my first real girlfriend until I was old enough to buy alcohol. I have a pretty sheltered lineage of dating. The intrinsic soul search of finding someone who picks up on your quips on forces past them is truly uncanny. I love when rather than fighting; sometimes my lady-friend will be bigger than me, tell me to shut my mouth and cuddle with me. Because no matter how riled up I am, I just want things to smooth out. Although, my last courtship taught me to just apologize and avoid fights. I could go on and on about quip versus quip, but I don’t want to tell all of my secrets.

Four, don’t lose yourself. That’s obvious. Five, most things related to an ex are a negative. They are an ex for a reason. Take your time as six? Is that a joke? In my late twenties, I assume everyone has options. There’s absolutely no chance that I’m dropping rings or “L-bombs” in less than four months. Seven, get hurt, set them ramparts back up. But know who is worth opening the gate for. You can use that for a vagina metaphor too. Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Recently, my female roommate told me about her quarrel with typically dating only one person and the guy she was/is sleeping with didn’t show any signs of dating her. Amidst other guys asking her out; I advised her to take them up. If one option is going no where, pursue other avenues. She’s doing that now which is creating jealously with the “fuck buddy”. Good for her. The first guy treated it like a game, hid his motive. In his stupid face.

Ambiguity with your words breeds uncertainty with people. It creates a revolving door. I’ve mentioned this before that everything has become a game and we feel like we have to manipulate situations to get what we want. Obviously there’s a spot where you can’t just outright walk up to someone and say “hey, I like the way that dress is contouring to your body. Would you like to have sex?” Again, I’m probably being naive and that probably does work. Growing up in the south, I’d be appalled to hear that. But I guess I’m just old fashioned when it comes to women.

Maybe most things in general I’m pretty old fashioned about.

Some of the marks we bear aren’t things we can be forgiven for. The agony of defeat. They serve to remind us of our own mortality; our fallible nature. We never let some tasks totally leave us. A scar on our very soul. A reminding impression that you aren’t good enough. After talking a lot with serial sex artist and a little with multi-dater and a chick at the pool who lives in my building, I realize that most people have been cheated on.

Also, I found out that getting a blow job without it being part of foreplay or a mutual benefit is real too. But not first-handed.

It’s probably still a myth and I’m just being lied to.

I think this whole weekend just enforced that I’m really bad at dating. I’m terrible at reading mannerisms, don’t like to feel like I’m pressuring someone, and just don’t have any real clue when I’m supposed to do something until I’m comfortable around them and can read them pretty easily. It’s not like there’s a go-to guide for social situations. Either you have it as a gift, or you don’t. My gift comes from booze.

I’ve gotten several recommendations to try various dating social networking sites. OkCupid, Match, Hinge, Tinder, they’re becoming staples for our fast paced easy-come easy-go lifestyle. Statistically, you’re most likely to meet your significant other in school. A bunch of closely-aged people with similar life paths, ambitions, and drive all stuck in one place. It’s a place of great odds for dating or finding a mate. Unfortunately, with all of those options readily available, there’s a lot of temptation. I think this leads to a lot of scarring for a lot of us coming out of school; and henceforth jaded spirits and cynicism. Then, we go into the work place where we are captured for 40 hours a week. Add in some extra curricular work and fill the weekends with alcohol filled dark caves; our desire to go find someone dies pretty quickly unless you meet someone at work or in your kickball league. Meeting someone in a bar is pretty easy, but that usually turns into someone being a little more drunk than the should be. Effecting memory and disposition is something that mind-altering substances are good at. So we have a tendency to make more regrettable decisions. This isn’t set in stone either, but someone who is actually a 5 in the light of day may be an 8 in the alcohol filled caves of Friday and Saturday night.

We’ve digitized our lives. It’s weird and gross, but we’ll end up living a reality where Her is real.

I’m also starting to realize that there’s a level of uncertainty with people. I started to say women, but then I thought about how stupid it is to have conversations with guys. Guys refuse to express any emotion because it’s not “manly”. I read this over the morning. I immediately thought to myself how disrespectful some of these things are. Obviously, I don’t know the length of time which you’re allowed to basically tell someone that you want to fuck them; hell I don’t know the length of time before you’re supposed to kiss someone let alone talk dirty.

I, fortunately, have great self-awareness and I know who I am and I know what I want out of life and I know the type of person that I’d like to be with. Although, my sabbatical hasn’t been a great testament to that. It’s weird thinking that you want someone who is charming, romantic, strong, yet able to cry, kind of bad boy, etc. Too many fantasizes encompassed into one entity. I’m not saying to settle. I’m saying to pick your absolutes and stick to those. I’m really playful and jovial, I couldn’t imagine dating someone who is very stern and controlling. But, I still like a woman who can stand on her own two feet is very strong willed. I get that there’s a duality to it, but being a big kid together in a toy store is a lot of fun! Likewise, I’m not the sort of person to get too close too quick. I respect people’s space and probably won’t violate your bubble unless I’m invited into it. Women typically want a guy who is more take charge. My reaction is… “Oh well.”

Do you like who you are? If not, then change it. Do you know what you want? Find someone who will help push you to those goals. You’ll love yourself for reaching your goals and that person will love you more for the happiness that the success brings you. It’s a give and take. Leave your scars where they are, they make you who you are. Find people however you can (bars, social media, kickball leagues) I just think having a digital conversation isn’t as pleasant as interacting with someone.

I just need to learn to violate bubbles.

 

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