Welcome to the demolition derby I call my love life.
Well, what I thought was a relationship was a thirty day pity/sympathy fuck.
I’m just back from a camping trip that included a night of sipping bourbon (American whiskey, actually), listening to maudlin music on headphones, and weeping, huddled under a cloak in the forest. A flask of whiskey and perspective.
It’s not normal to laugh and cry at the same time.
(Yes, the medieval french had a name for it, chantepluer sp?)
But I’ve been doing it a lot. Laughing at myself, weeping for grief/loss/blame, etc.
Since I’ve learned to laugh at myself, I’ve had no end of amusement.
I’m a little OC, and I have MPs, but these aren’t disorders if they don’t interfere with my life. I make them work for me. I always know where my car keys are.
I also talk too much, and it’s too much about myself.
I’m working on it.
Also this 'I’m ready, you’ll do, let’s go." attitude I seem to have towards love.
ETA: I’m an odd little man with a complicated life, and a rich interior world where they know me.
I’m turning 40 this month, dealing with an alienated 7 year old daughter, trying to save a condo in Glendale while severely unemployed in California, just had a heavy bust up.
I also stabbed my hand with a glass, while washing dishes, just before the camping trip.
Yeah, I deserved a full on happy birtday pity party.
Petition signatures. The ultimate ‘warm body’ job. Sheesh.
That part was fantastic, another bright side is knowing that that’s not enough to keep a relationship going. Well, not for me, YMMV. (I suppose I could be her Incubus, visit her in the night, make her feel worshipped, disappear with the dawn.)
Oh, there’s more, wanna hear more?
There was a lady I was flirting with at this last camping trip. I needed to flirt more than I wanting any real possibility. Everything I want, and the last thing I need. Anyrate, half my mind is saying ‘Dude, half your age is bordering on creepy old man material.’ and the other side is saying ‘Well, so long as you follow the campsite rule, and leave them better than you found them, it’s all good.’
SLK, I’m sorry for your troubles. In honor of your birthday I’ll refrain from anything that smacks of advice for now and just say I hope it gets better for you really soon. I hope your daughter comes around and I hope her mother gets her head on straight as it relates to you and daughter. Sometimes you just gotta cry before you can move on. Best of luck from here on in.
Thank you for that. I appreciate it. It could be much worse, actually. It is. The landlord is wanting to rent out the whole house, so he gave all us room renters 30 days notice.
I know a lady who’ll let me pitch a tent in her backyard. It’s all good.
“It’s all good, and it’s all in fun.
Now get in the pit and try to love someone.”
–K.R.
I’m considering a tatoo for my left bicep. An old school ‘13’ with either ‘Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know’ or a poison oak leaf with a “I’m poison, stay away.” Or a combination of all those ideas. Just by way of fair warning to the ladies of earth.
Hang in there buddy, the right woman will show up.
We met at the last SoCal dopefest, and for sure I did not get any, this guy is too strange for words, vibe from you.
Oh, for sure, but you saw a well in control public face. I’ve got this missing brain matter / acid casualty thing going on. I think I’m an elf, etc. I have a rich interior world where they know me. As anyone gets more intimately known to me, I share more of that real me.
I didn’t send me to SoCal dopefest, I sent a cardboard cutout that came back and told me about it.