that's right, i owe you a rant....
the following is a much delayed religious observance. but hey, it's technically the first month of spring here, which makes it perfectly logical to line up with feb 15th.... and it's still the 15th, over there....
so, this month i've had an old visitor swing by and say hello.
i've not really heard from him in a long time, although he has always been hanging around. i've known he's been there, but he's always been easy to ignore, as i'm generally having far too much fun blarging about and being me.
some of you reading this might even remember him. a bus trip from nathan to the city and an sca event was the last time i particularly remembering him coming out and saying hello to everyone. he's a bitter twisted bastard and none of you should ever need to meet him
the thing was, it took a bit of work to become the me that *most* of you know. it took a major change.
it took me making a vow to myself that i would not have sex for seven years.
once i made this vow and knew, to my core, that i would stick to it, i was determined to make it. this created the change of which i speak.
i no longer looked at ladies as potential bed partners. there was no point to it. i'd cast aside the desperation to put it in someone and replaced it with the knowledge that nothing was ever going to happen, because a) i was clearly too unattractive to appeal to women, unless they were insane, b) no woman would be crazy enough to think that i'd be worth the effort and c) even if they were crazy enough to want to, well, i had this vow, and i was going to keep that intact for seven years.
so i began to talk to people. not talk to men or women. just people. the sports field of the mating game was replaced with a level field of parkland with swings and monkey bars, where everyone could just have fun playing by themselves or with others.
months after i made this vow, i began to be approached by a young lady who wished to make her interest be known. others have followed since, with various intents and motives. i made it to seven years and grinned widely for managing to avoid the pitfalls that the universe put in my place to test me, some easily, some by the grace of a woman scorned, some by pure chance. mostly by them becoming too bored to wait for me to make it to seven years to hang around (perfectly understandable).
of course, after seven years (even during) i'd become quite picky and stubborn about giving up the next shag. many people commented that i must have the pick of the litter to choose from. duly mortified by such ideals (and the fact that the majority of females in this world still think that i'm a freak, with a distant second for big brother/good friend type), i prepared a long list of requirements that became hard-wired into my brain for me to be willing to lay down for someone.
the list reads as follows:
so, seven became eight, do the math, and i find myself here, on the verge of the 14 year and he's here.
on the second of september, with my mind clear of so many other things that it had to concentrate on, and able to relax, bam. he kicks in the door and starts to make himself at home.
feet up on the coffee table, he leers at me.
"14 years, eh," he says, "and just what has that gotten you? where's it gotten you? where are your gold medals? eh?"
turning up the volume on the tv, so then he can shout over it at me, "c'mon, fat boy, tell me, just where has all this patience and willpower gotten you to, today?"
for the last fourteen days he's been loitering, making me doubt everything that i think, do, and want. how can i be sure that i'm interested in someone, genuinely, or if i'm just interested in them because, hey, if i shag them tonight, i won't make it to fourteen years of born again virginity.
i mean, i never planned on hitting fourteen years, did i? i only meant to make it to seven and then be able to relax enough, in the company of someone else, that i could. it was never meant to go this long. hell, it wasn't even meant to make it to eight.
he wants to usurp me. for the last fourteen days, i've pushed people away from me. bad eating habits to make sure i feel overweight. not getting in contact with people because they wouldn't want to be bothered with me being such a freaking emo putz. not wanting to leave the house, because it means that people can see the freak by the harsh light of day. i've been actively doing things to harm my chances of wanting to be intimate with someone.
for crying out loud, i dropped 8000 dollars cash to buy a car on thursday. same model as the last car, just four years younger, only 83,000 k's on the clock and very good condition. it was a good, sensible choice to make.
i've never hated myself more for making a good, sensible choice, in my life.
tonight, in particular, i've felt him trying to take over. his time is nearly up, as after the fourteenth year starts, the clock will reset for another year and i won't give a shit about getting laid for another three hundred and forty-five days. so, like a bad tenant wanting to outstay his welcome, he's grabbing for anything that he thinks will allow him to stay, demoralising me so i think i can't go on.
i can't trust myself out, tonight. i was fine at the wedding but had too much time to think at the reception. i had enough trouble convincing myself to actually attend the birthday tonight, but i could not bring myself to return to it. he's been sitting in the front room, too often, tonight. he's been at the controls and setting the stereo channels to the stations he likes, in anticipation of staying on a bit longer.
people have approached, seeing i'm troubled and wanting to hug me, make me feel better. not tonight, no. there are only a few times that i know that it'd be me they're hugging and not him. he doesn't want hugs. he just want's me to suffer and he knows that the best way to do that is to make other people suffer his presence. a false hug given by him is cheating them from a real hug from me. they'd never know, probably, but i would. and i'm the one who would feel guilty about letting them be touched by him, for a long time to come.
there have been many friends, over this last fortnight, who have been fantastic for me to be around. people who have helped distract me from him being there. i want them to know that i've been grateful for them and every word and hug given has been genuine. even uncomfortable admissions at 2am. you are beautiful. i'm constantly aware of the beautiful people that i have surrounding me, in my life and the last thing i want to do is make any of you suffer his presence(except for this post, of course, which is more of an state of the union address than a infliction of him).
and, of course, if i tell anyone that this is what i'm feeling, vis a vie, the whole 14 year thing and they say, "well, you know i could take care of that for you?" great. a sympathy fuck. how wonderfully morale building an experience that will be for me. then it can be just like that first time, all over again. if they can't have proposed something (that i haven't already turned down) without this long winded and morbidly attention seeking whinge to make them pluck up the courage, then i'm just not worth the effort, really.*
and that's the thing he likes to say the most, right now. you're not worth the effort, are you? once you find someone that you can relax around, you start to show the real you, they're going to send you away or throw their lot in with someone else. someone else they can actually love. some one else that is not me and will never be me, because, say it along with me, i'm not worth it.
because, if i was worth the effort, i wouldn't be sitting on 14 years.
14 "you chose this" years.
14 "you don't deserve any sympathy" years.
14 "you should just do it and get it over with" years.
14 "you made your own bed and now you can't fuck in it" years.
ah well. he should be gone by the middle of next week. i'll be less emo then.
i'm looking forward to that.
the fiend
who want's to start the betting pool for making it to 21?
* (suffice to say, that means anyone reading this, who might wish to volunteer to break the count, has just lost the opportunity, by way of me admitting this. could i possibly get more retarded? )
so, this month i've had an old visitor swing by and say hello.
i've not really heard from him in a long time, although he has always been hanging around. i've known he's been there, but he's always been easy to ignore, as i'm generally having far too much fun blarging about and being me.
some of you reading this might even remember him. a bus trip from nathan to the city and an sca event was the last time i particularly remembering him coming out and saying hello to everyone. he's a bitter twisted bastard and none of you should ever need to meet him
the thing was, it took a bit of work to become the me that *most* of you know. it took a major change.
it took me making a vow to myself that i would not have sex for seven years.
once i made this vow and knew, to my core, that i would stick to it, i was determined to make it. this created the change of which i speak.
i no longer looked at ladies as potential bed partners. there was no point to it. i'd cast aside the desperation to put it in someone and replaced it with the knowledge that nothing was ever going to happen, because a) i was clearly too unattractive to appeal to women, unless they were insane, b) no woman would be crazy enough to think that i'd be worth the effort and c) even if they were crazy enough to want to, well, i had this vow, and i was going to keep that intact for seven years.
so i began to talk to people. not talk to men or women. just people. the sports field of the mating game was replaced with a level field of parkland with swings and monkey bars, where everyone could just have fun playing by themselves or with others.
months after i made this vow, i began to be approached by a young lady who wished to make her interest be known. others have followed since, with various intents and motives. i made it to seven years and grinned widely for managing to avoid the pitfalls that the universe put in my place to test me, some easily, some by the grace of a woman scorned, some by pure chance. mostly by them becoming too bored to wait for me to make it to seven years to hang around (perfectly understandable).
of course, after seven years (even during) i'd become quite picky and stubborn about giving up the next shag. many people commented that i must have the pick of the litter to choose from. duly mortified by such ideals (and the fact that the majority of females in this world still think that i'm a freak, with a distant second for big brother/good friend type), i prepared a long list of requirements that became hard-wired into my brain for me to be willing to lay down for someone.
the list reads as follows:
- someone (or a situation) that i can feel comfortable with and who can feel comfortable with me.
so, seven became eight, do the math, and i find myself here, on the verge of the 14 year and he's here.
on the second of september, with my mind clear of so many other things that it had to concentrate on, and able to relax, bam. he kicks in the door and starts to make himself at home.
feet up on the coffee table, he leers at me.
"14 years, eh," he says, "and just what has that gotten you? where's it gotten you? where are your gold medals? eh?"
turning up the volume on the tv, so then he can shout over it at me, "c'mon, fat boy, tell me, just where has all this patience and willpower gotten you to, today?"
for the last fourteen days he's been loitering, making me doubt everything that i think, do, and want. how can i be sure that i'm interested in someone, genuinely, or if i'm just interested in them because, hey, if i shag them tonight, i won't make it to fourteen years of born again virginity.
i mean, i never planned on hitting fourteen years, did i? i only meant to make it to seven and then be able to relax enough, in the company of someone else, that i could. it was never meant to go this long. hell, it wasn't even meant to make it to eight.
he wants to usurp me. for the last fourteen days, i've pushed people away from me. bad eating habits to make sure i feel overweight. not getting in contact with people because they wouldn't want to be bothered with me being such a freaking emo putz. not wanting to leave the house, because it means that people can see the freak by the harsh light of day. i've been actively doing things to harm my chances of wanting to be intimate with someone.
for crying out loud, i dropped 8000 dollars cash to buy a car on thursday. same model as the last car, just four years younger, only 83,000 k's on the clock and very good condition. it was a good, sensible choice to make.
i've never hated myself more for making a good, sensible choice, in my life.
tonight, in particular, i've felt him trying to take over. his time is nearly up, as after the fourteenth year starts, the clock will reset for another year and i won't give a shit about getting laid for another three hundred and forty-five days. so, like a bad tenant wanting to outstay his welcome, he's grabbing for anything that he thinks will allow him to stay, demoralising me so i think i can't go on.
i can't trust myself out, tonight. i was fine at the wedding but had too much time to think at the reception. i had enough trouble convincing myself to actually attend the birthday tonight, but i could not bring myself to return to it. he's been sitting in the front room, too often, tonight. he's been at the controls and setting the stereo channels to the stations he likes, in anticipation of staying on a bit longer.
people have approached, seeing i'm troubled and wanting to hug me, make me feel better. not tonight, no. there are only a few times that i know that it'd be me they're hugging and not him. he doesn't want hugs. he just want's me to suffer and he knows that the best way to do that is to make other people suffer his presence. a false hug given by him is cheating them from a real hug from me. they'd never know, probably, but i would. and i'm the one who would feel guilty about letting them be touched by him, for a long time to come.
there have been many friends, over this last fortnight, who have been fantastic for me to be around. people who have helped distract me from him being there. i want them to know that i've been grateful for them and every word and hug given has been genuine. even uncomfortable admissions at 2am. you are beautiful. i'm constantly aware of the beautiful people that i have surrounding me, in my life and the last thing i want to do is make any of you suffer his presence(except for this post, of course, which is more of an state of the union address than a infliction of him).
and, of course, if i tell anyone that this is what i'm feeling, vis a vie, the whole 14 year thing and they say, "well, you know i could take care of that for you?" great. a sympathy fuck. how wonderfully morale building an experience that will be for me. then it can be just like that first time, all over again. if they can't have proposed something (that i haven't already turned down) without this long winded and morbidly attention seeking whinge to make them pluck up the courage, then i'm just not worth the effort, really.*
and that's the thing he likes to say the most, right now. you're not worth the effort, are you? once you find someone that you can relax around, you start to show the real you, they're going to send you away or throw their lot in with someone else. someone else they can actually love. some one else that is not me and will never be me, because, say it along with me, i'm not worth it.
because, if i was worth the effort, i wouldn't be sitting on 14 years.
14 "you chose this" years.
14 "you don't deserve any sympathy" years.
14 "you should just do it and get it over with" years.
14 "you made your own bed and now you can't fuck in it" years.
ah well. he should be gone by the middle of next week. i'll be less emo then.
i'm looking forward to that.
the fiend
who want's to start the betting pool for making it to 21?
* (suffice to say, that means anyone reading this, who might wish to volunteer to break the count, has just lost the opportunity, by way of me admitting this. could i possibly get more retarded? )