You may be confused

“It’s nice to finally meet a respectfully, well rounded man” she said. I just smiled, wondering silently how she got that impression.

The Devil pt. 2

Our second year “together” began promisingly enough. For the first few weeks, it appeared as though she was ready and willing to dedicate herself to me. We spent quality time with each other, I met her family, interacted with her high school friends, and, for the first time, was introduced as her boyfriend. I was in heaven. It was not to last.

As the herd from the previous summer slowly crept back into the picture, I was again the odd man out. She began to spend an obnoxious amount of time with individuals I had once counted as my best friends; punctuated by an awkward moment spent between my girlfriend and my former comrade in a bathroom. To this day, the true happenings of that evening remain a mystery.

As I fought to maintain my foothold in her life, the summer came crashing to an end, capped by her departure to a foreign land on my nineteenth birthday.

I would like to say I was able to regain my confidence in her absence – but it would be a lie. From the moment she stepped on that plane, until the time she finally broke my heart beyond the point of repair, I pined for her, eagerly counting down the minutes until I could once again hold her in my arms.

Led by my blind faith, I purchased a ticket to visit her abroad. My only free time was during the Christmas and New Years break of 1998 – I packed my bags, kissed the family goodbye, and disappeared. It was my brother’s last holiday.

While the trip had its ups, I remember it more for the downs. She was moody, indecisive, and generally annoyed by my presence. Regardless, I left very much in love.

After my turbulent visit, I returned to the states as determined as ever to prove my worthiness. I spent hours in the gym in a pathetic attempt to impress her with a muscular transformation. I wrote letter, made phone calls, and drove myself deeper into debt. There was no limit to my love.

My brother passed away within months of my visit. In my time of need, I turned to her for support. She returned that gesture by cheating on me, justifying it by explaining that I had failed to give her the support she needed. I was despondent. Thankfully, but regrettably, my female friend from high school stepped up to save me (http://aloneontheisle.blogspot.com/2007/09/another-in-long-line.html). I swore, right then and there, that I would never let her back into my life. I would, as always, falter.

The Devil Pt. 1

To say I was smitten at first sight would be an understatement. She was everything I thought I wanted – confident, sexy, and experienced. I had no clue at that moment of the destructive effect she would have on my life.

We worked together at a large retail store; she was a receptionist, I was a cart attendant. My friends saw her first, and immediately set out to gain her attention. I should have backed off – they were my best friends. But regardless of the possible ramifications, I could not control myself. For the first time in my life, I saw something I was willing to mortgage my future to obtain. Once she figured this out, I was a goner, and I didn’t even realize it. Over the following months, she masterfully played my friends and I off each other, slowly destroying the relationships we had spent a life time constructing. From this experience, we would never recover, but that is for another time.

Once friendless, I was completely beholden to her. Forced to befriend her clan, I came to rely on her for everything but the air I breathed.

During the first year we were “together”, she hooked up with no less than seven men in front of me; each time blaming me for not being enough of a man to keep her happy. I dutifully responded each and every time by spending more money, time and effort to meet each and every one of her needs and desires. Sinking so low as slink out of her bedroom when other men would come calling. I was ashamed of myself for devolving into a helpless puppy, but believed her with every ounce of my being when she said she was trying to figure things out.

When others would get wise, and cast her aside, I was the one she called to comfort her. This cycle repeated itself at an alarming rate. Shockingly, and to my great surprise, as our first year at college came to an end, and the steady stream of men had dried to a trickle -- either sick of her childish games, or gone for summer -- she informed me that she would let me be her “exclusive” boyfriend until she boarded a plane for a foreign land the following fall. I thought my perseverance had finally paid off. As time would tell, I was horribly wrong.

Fuck them for making you worry like this.

It will work out, you will come out of this on your feet, and you will continue to be a ray of sunlight in our lives.

Good things come to those who wait

I could taste her long before she acknowledged my existence. For months I planned, mapping her nakedness throughout the days. As I injected myself into her existence, I felt her goodness, but sensed her will faltering. She was ignorant of her body’s desires, but I knew, deep in my being, that she wanted nothing more than to have me ravage her. Patience, sexual tension, and years of loneliness were all I needed to push past her moral moat. She is the crown jewel of my life’s conquests – a victory to savor, cherish, and revel in for a lifetime.

The countdown begins

I shrug it off, but underneath, I am deathly afraid that I am going to head off into the mountains, be consumed by the trail and staggering elevation, and fall flat in my pursuit of running splendor – forced instead to slink home with nothing but a bruised ego to show for my efforts. Everyday I push myself to the breaking point, and am continually amazed at just how much my body is able to endure – but remain unconvinced that I can will myself to gut out the nine hours it will take to complete this idiotic test of endurance. Consequently, I train harder, longer, and with more intensity – knowing that if I am unsuccessful, it will not be because I neglected to take the necessary steps, but because I finally found my body’s outer limit. Sixty days and counting.

In my dreams you are alive – a bright eyed, wondrous young man with a world of hope in front of him. I only wish I knew how to make those nights last forever.

This is not a game

I am overly competitive. I know this, and do all I can to keep it under control. However, if challenged, I will do everything humanly possible to prevail, regardless of the ramifications to my victims personal and/or professional life. You know this, having previously acknowledged the crazed look that flashes when my guard is down. As should be obvious, I am trying to hold it together, and protect you; but you keep pushing, poking, prodding, and tempting me to make your life a living hell – I advise you stop.

Just another day at the office

The thought of tortuously removing the grin from his contemptible face with a series of strategically placed paper cuts has helped me get through the day – I may have a problem.

Self-Promotion Part II

Another shameless self-promotion: http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/2008/02/simple-pleasures.html.

Forgive and forget?

I spent so many years being the forgotten one that I am having a hard time adjusting to the fact that family is now actively seeking out my company, advice and support. I excel at sitting on the outside, silently criticizing those around me. The recent barrage of phone calls, emails and social gatherings is making it hard for me to maintain that position. The problem is, I don’t know how to be a good, supportive, and loving family member. I was written off at such a young age, that I never learned to "play well with others", and show the love and kindness that so many now need. For every phone call or email I receive, I can think of ten of mine that went unanswered. They may have forgotten, or maybe never understood, the destruction their distanced caused me, but I, realizing the power I now hold, am finding it hard to forgive.

Is it necessary?

Today you expressed a desire to change, shift the way you view your surroundings, and while I agreed with you at the time, I am now having second thoughts. It is true, you are not the most positive person I have ever met, but you are, to a friend, one of the most sincere people I know, even if that means expressing yourself through tireless bitch sessions, and strategically placed barbs. Good or bad, we know where we stand with you. Each and every one of us loves you, the you that complains, gets angry, and thinks the world is conspiring against her. Without your cloudy personality, I am afraid you would loss your identity. Now I may be wrong, so change if that is what you desire, but please, I beg you, do not do it because someone on a mountain selfishly told you to be more positive.

Almost forgotten

I no longer anticipate your touch, words of encouragement, or blazing smile. In fact, your infectiously positive personality barely registers in my increasingly dreary days. Except for my waking hours, and occasionally during dreams, I don’t even think about you anymore. Watching you walk away was easier than you thought, and to think, you were going to “teach me a lesson”. If you want to know how damn simple this all has been, give me a call to talk about it, any time, night or day, please. . . .

I am a lucky man

While this day was spent apart, I want you to know that I long for nothing more than to spend an evening in your arms, and to return the undying love you have given me throughout the years. You make me proud of myself, for no matter what else I fuck up in my life, I will always know I did one thing right, and that was bringing your into my everyday. Happy Valentines day my love, I miss you.

Work and nothing but

For years I have blamed my jobs, bosses and surroundings for the incredible number of hours I worked. Regardless of how it started, it always ended with me angrily walking away from each position, promising that I would never let “that” happen again. In search of a final fix, I was lured to this island with promises of a nine-to-six workday; but, as I find myself leaving the office progressively later each evening, I am starting to think that it is not the employers or locales that are to blame, but the employee.

There is a great project going on called the six-word memoir (http://www.smithmag.net/sixwords/). If you haven't already, and you have a minute, visit the site and submit something. Speaking for myself, attempting to sum up ones life in six words is an incredible, and eye opening, experience. With that, I will leave you with mine:

Loved more than I ever deserved

Hello?

It appears that my absence no longer commands the same sense of longing that it once did. Instead, I have become a roadblock in the busyness of the everyday. This is a drastic shift. When I first left, there were a lot of sweet gestures, greedy to talk phone calls, and loving emails. Now, without my occasional attention grabbing outbursts, I fade into insignificancy, left to hang my heart on a few meaningless, end-of-the-night phone calls. I need something to save me here. I live a life of nothingness. Wake-up, eat, work, run, repeat – do you think that this is fun? I know you are busy, but I am tired, sober and lonely and I may be asking a lot, but please. . . .

Just another Sunday on the island

While running an "organized" road race yesterday, a spectator pointed at me, slashed his finger across his throat and angrily yelled at me in a language I don’t understand. I was propositioned twice. Another man was shot to death while his wife stood nearby. I thought the run would be a good chance to get out and see the island. I am starting to think there are some things in life better left unseen and unexplored.

It is what it is and that is fine by me

As I scoured the internet for yet another quick fix to my ever increasing sense of incompleteness, I realized that for as long as I can remember, I have been obsessed with thoughts of the unknown, unattainable, and flat out unreasonable. My constant pursuit of change has caused me to flee states, walk away from high paying jobs, switch residences at an alarming rate and disappear from the lives of loved ones. However, until today, I chalked it up to my youthful pursuit of happiness. The problem is, I am no longer young, nor am I seeking happiness as much as planning my next great escape. Truth be told, I am afraid – afraid to wake up thirty years from now and realize that this is all my life has to offer.

Up to this point, I have fought a gallant fight to stay one step ahead of permanence – figuring that if I vanished before it took hold, I would bypass the inevitable realization that I settled. So in an effort to understand this irrational aversion to the known, I spent the evening pondering my life’s decisions, and asking whether the life I have before me is one I am willing to stay with for the long haul. And the answer is, to my great surprise, I am. Now it does not encompass all my unattainable aspirations, but then again, neither have any of the other lives I recreated for myself after yet another attempt at perfection. The bottom line is, for the first time in my life, I do not think I would be able to forgive myself if I were to run from this life – as hard as it is at times – only to realize thirty years from now that my obsession with the other had led me down a path to nothing.

Honesty . . .

It was a suggestion, a passing thought really, "you should talk to someone about that" -- nothing more. Now, after heeding her advice, I realize the gravity of my mistake -- the look on his face is riddled with fear and confusion -- I thought psychiatrists had heard it all -- I was wrong.