Another alcohol-fueled post...
January 5, eh? Been a while, hasn't it? Either quite a bit has happened since then, or else, very little different has happened. Depends on your point of view. Your angle. I'm kind of slanted in my PoV, considering I'm me. The one experiencing all of this. So of course it's a neverending swirling maelstrom of events, whether dramatic or mundane.
So here's my version for you, my dear readers, condensed and sweetened for easy purchase and longer shelf life: Since my breakup with Jen, I've spent a hellish month and a half working in Florida at a job that, upon return home, has left me feeling like I've died a little inside.
And within that timeframe I've gained and subsequently (and pretty much par-for-the-course-ly) been dumped by a woman. This time it was different. I came home from Florida jaded. I know what you all are thinking: "Wow, Andy went to Florida during January and February... he must have spent his time sipping mojitos on a pristine beach amongst micro bikini clad caramel-colored supermodels."
Such was not the case. In fact, that could not have been any further from the actual reality of the godforsaken situation. I'd spent a month and a half at a shit hole motel living alongside the mangey infested underbelly of humanity, the vast majority of the time having been spent dodging panhandlers and $20 crackwhores. I seriously could have fucked any number of women for a mere Jackson apiece. Just so they could afford to buy crack.
Glamorous.
So what all this adds up to is this: given both past experience (and failed romantic endeavours), and also recent events which have left me jaded to the point of losing hope for humanity, any new girl in my life is up for some serious vetting before I go plunging head-first into a committed relationship, as was my usual modus operandi.
In other words, like a well adjusted and fully functioning adult, I took my time with this latest woman, rather than flipping out on her like some horny teenager. I didn't push her into anything. I let the profound connection and "click" that we shared bloom at its own natural pace. And she dumped me via email days after I took my dear sweet time in asking her to be my girlfriend.
I can't win.
---
So here I am, your friend and humble narrator, back at SQUARE FUCKING ONE, 33 years and at least ONE THIRD into my alarmingly short time on this planet, convinced now of the thorough naiveté that the hope that I sooner or later fall in love isn't a TOTALLY UNREASONABLE REQUEST.
I'm never going to be a dad. Never going to be a father. Natural selection knows who is fit, and who isn't fit, to be a parent. While every braindead beady-eyed abusive drooling stupid baby-shaking punching screaming child-beating silverback gorilla neanderthal DUMBFUCK seems to have no less than five or six kids, Mother Nature somehow has deemed me unworthy for such endeavours. Idiocracy, anyone?
Charles Darwin can suck my cock.
So here's my version for you, my dear readers, condensed and sweetened for easy purchase and longer shelf life: Since my breakup with Jen, I've spent a hellish month and a half working in Florida at a job that, upon return home, has left me feeling like I've died a little inside.
And within that timeframe I've gained and subsequently (and pretty much par-for-the-course-ly) been dumped by a woman. This time it was different. I came home from Florida jaded. I know what you all are thinking: "Wow, Andy went to Florida during January and February... he must have spent his time sipping mojitos on a pristine beach amongst micro bikini clad caramel-colored supermodels."
Such was not the case. In fact, that could not have been any further from the actual reality of the godforsaken situation. I'd spent a month and a half at a shit hole motel living alongside the mangey infested underbelly of humanity, the vast majority of the time having been spent dodging panhandlers and $20 crackwhores. I seriously could have fucked any number of women for a mere Jackson apiece. Just so they could afford to buy crack.
Glamorous.
So what all this adds up to is this: given both past experience (and failed romantic endeavours), and also recent events which have left me jaded to the point of losing hope for humanity, any new girl in my life is up for some serious vetting before I go plunging head-first into a committed relationship, as was my usual modus operandi.
In other words, like a well adjusted and fully functioning adult, I took my time with this latest woman, rather than flipping out on her like some horny teenager. I didn't push her into anything. I let the profound connection and "click" that we shared bloom at its own natural pace. And she dumped me via email days after I took my dear sweet time in asking her to be my girlfriend.
I can't win.
---
So here I am, your friend and humble narrator, back at SQUARE FUCKING ONE, 33 years and at least ONE THIRD into my alarmingly short time on this planet, convinced now of the thorough naiveté that the hope that I sooner or later fall in love isn't a TOTALLY UNREASONABLE REQUEST.
I'm never going to be a dad. Never going to be a father. Natural selection knows who is fit, and who isn't fit, to be a parent. While every braindead beady-eyed abusive drooling stupid baby-shaking punching screaming child-beating silverback gorilla neanderthal DUMBFUCK seems to have no less than five or six kids, Mother Nature somehow has deemed me unworthy for such endeavours. Idiocracy, anyone?
Charles Darwin can suck my cock.
posted by Grover at 3/17/2012 01:10:00 AM
1 Comments:
Grover, hang in there. You're still young, you're only 33 and you have a lot of life yet to go.
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