Soundtrack: Nick Cave "I Let Love in"
Alt. Soundtrack: "Gun Street Girl" by Tom Waits
Had to slow my roll for a bit there.
Between the new girl, the stripper, and the trip out of town, and due to continuing fallout from my divorce things unraveled and I had to head underground, find solace in the gym, and hide for a bit socially. I was getting a bit uncontrolled, even for myself.
I relished the newfound freedom and the ease with which I was picking up girls, but as it always does, the luster lost its shine as I saw the numbers behind the matrix.
I'm approaching the tipping the point.
The point where I have to choose the road of eternal bachelor b/c....the kids...and the marriage thing....turns my stomach and makes me immediately roll my eyes these days. Mom jeans and soccer practices and school plays....and coming home to the same person for 40 years in a row....the fights and the expectations and the not being able to leave town directly after work Friday b/c of some plans I didn't make but the wife did with some couple that's cool or whatever but isn't as cool as the potential and possibility I feel when I leave the gym on Saturday, grab lunch, shower, drink coffee, read, then plot my traverse of the night sky underneath uncertain stars.
Feast or famine or some such nothing whatever-ness.
Headed out for my ilk's holiday, St. Patrick's Day. Did some flirsting and such, some cute girl I'd met earlier sucked on my chest on the side street of the main thoroughfare of the stretch of bars.
Some days, especially what I call fairweather holidays, where it's mostly amateurs out polluting the landscape, it's hard to get mojo going unless you want to be the loudest, biggest, most obnoxious guy there is and that's just not the style of/for your humble narrator.
That and honestly....I needed space and time to just relax and not play the game of interest/disinterest, escalation, and closing with the right amount of venue changes and emotional/sexual velocity.
No wonder girls become jaded....when virtually every guy you know tries to initiate this game with you....I'd burn out faster than a meth addict with an unlimited per diem.
I spent a good bit of the day out on St. Patrick's Day, not wishing to cram work and game into my unfocused day of joy unless a good opportunity flitted nearby and presented itself, content to appreciate some newly warm weather, open air, afternoon drinking with some buddies I hadn't seen due to my hermitage.
Traversed the night sky, lost my fucking car, finally found it due to*************, headed home, rested, hit the gym and sweated out the mildly-ish hangover then rested for the week of work. Sat outside, enjoyed the weather again, drank coffee and did some work for my job, a super rarity for this degenerate.
In other news, was out with the new girl I've been seeing and I felt the moment.
You know the moment.
The moment when you see past the honeymoon of it....the moment that you know this will end.
The moment you know the end will come...and as always...it will register as some small ripple in the whirl pool but will mean the equivalent of nothing and you will walk out into the night air, get a drink and start the stalk again, hungry like the wolf or simply look to the unknown with a smile and pleasant warmth of stepping out of the expectations recently endured.
The moment that you remember these things always end.
The moment that you see the writing on the wall.
Something about it, the dynamic, something about you or her tarnishes....something about the paint chips away.
Some wordless emotion tumbles off the shelf inside your illusion.....and you sigh and sip your beer and fake a smile when she catches that far away look in your eye....
I hate this moment. Hate it with a passion. It's the antithesis of what I chase in the potential of a look, of a hair flip, of a slide up to approach by a girl who nervously glances your way sidelong.....it's the death of potential and it crawls inside unmistakably and undeniably.
The sharp birds, they sometimes catch a flicker of the change....but they usually rationalize it away.
In a world of pessimists you keep dating girls that find some way to believe and to hope and to dream.
I see the tired, flabby, dejected, weary faces of most parents and even childless spouses....I remember the moment with my ex.
The moment we sat at the bar where we'd met. Less than 2 years into marriage.....we had nothing to say to one another. We'd go home and probably not have sex. We had nothing to say. I'd get ****, she might or she might take a **** and knock out as well. Nothing to talk about. Work and life and marriage and the ties that bind had choked all the fun out of marriage.
Some will say, "you have to work to make it fun."
Fucking reread that.
"Work to make it fun."
ARE You Fucking Serious?
Work to make it fun?
-
I think back to eating with her in the dining hall of her college one morning after cramming into her upper bunk while her roommate was out of town for the weekend.
I think back to the stripper up *****.
I think back to the Church girl who went to church 3 days a week telling me to treat her like a prisoner.
I think back to the elation of the secret of marriage and the excitement of it initially.
I think back to my first night out after the separation and the relief it brought.
I think back to my wonder as to when I started down this path.....I genuinely wonder from whence it came, from whence it began....
But I push those thoughts away and embrace the here and now, all those faded moments like a worn coat that fits just right....and I press forward daunted yet not with a measured step necessary to continue this one foot in front of the other unceasingly in acceptance without expectation save the possibility and potential.
Good luck and happy hunting.
I'll be in the fray once again soon.
- Yrs. in Christ
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