ex marks the spot

Interesting.

3SmartCubes.com - IQ Test

And people didn't believe it when I told them I once built a three-stage quantum reactor with nothing but matchsticks, six feet of garden hose and a 9-volt battery.

Today was kind of lousy, for reasons I'm unsure I want to get into.

There are only two girls that I have loved in my life and this is about one of them.

Maybe I shouldn't be writing about it considering that she might have this blog bookmarked someplace and there's no telling what would come out of Pandora's box should I decide to dish out the details.

All I can say is that I dreamed of her last night. We were at a movie theatre where she put her arm around me and smiled.

That's it, really. The rest of the details would compromise national security and knock the Earth off it's axis. It's not worth getting into.

And it's a really long story to boot.

But the point of this, is that inexplicably I was reminded of a past love of mine, who I still miss very much but haven't talked to in over a year.

Blond. Athletic. Smart. Funny. Kind. Compassionate. Sexy. Beautiful both inside and out. I had a crush on this girl from the time I first laid eyes on her over fourteen years ago.

I still remember that day vividly. I was standing in a classroom full of people when my eyes travelled over to the door and there she was, looking at me with a radiant smile on her face.

That was all it took.

Yet, she had a boyfriend at the time and I thought "well, that probably won't last, I'll just wait it out." She was nineteen and I expected it to be like any one of those high-school sweetheart romances that fizzle out once they both grow up and realize that there are better people out there.

Yet, my good fortune had the guy eventually marrying this girl within the next year, so I never did get the chance to take her out on a date. Still, we remained friends up until last year when it came crashing down like the twin towers.

That was when she tried initiating a threesome. It was apparently her husband's idea and .. bleh. Let's just say fourteen years of repression broke free and made such a mess that a shamwow would have sprouted legs and hurried out the door had it seen it.

After a few months, things were eventually worked out and I told her half-heartedly that she should stop talking to me out of respect for her husband who was (and possibly still is) pissed off at us keeping in touch.

Sadly, she agreed it was the best idea for both of us. And while we parted ways, I emerged much wiser for having had this experience.

The point of why I am bringing this up now, is that I can't help but think about the women I've met in my life who changed me for the better.

Stacey, Jacklyn, Michelle, Elizabeth, June, Keri, Amanda, Tina, Sadie, Penelope, Uta, Jessica, Andrea, Deanna, Hadeel, Lisa and Lauren.

Each one has given or taught me something that I will always be in debt towards.

Life is a journey, we make mistakes along the way, stumble, fall and then someone comes by to pick us up, to give reassurance, impart a pearl of wisdom or cold-cock us in the face. Still, we learn from these things and we grow into better human beings for it.

Relationships are transitory by nature, we don't always have that guarantee of being together with another person until death do us part. But, in the meantime, we should always try to respect and learn from them. The real difficulty is in accepting a hurtful truth about yourself, or being made aware of a counter-productive point of view that may need to be reconsidered. Should a person be willing to be made a pupil unto life, then there is no telling how far he/she can go if mistakes and shortcomings can be accounted for.

These are the ladies who made me become the man I am today:

Stacey and Jacklyn who first gave me the confidence I needed as an awkward, dorky teenager to start picking up girls.

Michelle who taught me the value of self-reliance and ended up serving as a cautionary tale.

Amanda an Aussie babe from the internet who showed me how well I was able to direct my charms through ones and zeros and made me realize that I might never successfully pull off a long-distance relationship. Even if my plane flights were paid for.

Elizabeth who ended up exposing my capacity to be cruel and selfish. Which I still hate myself for because after Lauren, I now know how it feels to be on the other side of the fence.

June who gave me reassurance and friendship. We only had one date, but it made me realize how incapable I was of cheating when temptation presents itself.

Keri who was my pen pal for a few months and made me feel appreciated and desired.

Sadie who once made me realize the depths of my desperation, naiveté and how horribly charming / intelligent and persuasive I can be. She also put me in the hospital after giving the most horrible blowjob of my life and then blaming me for it, causing a severe depression that I had to deal with for the next two years.

Penelope was someone who proved that I was not a superficial or judgemental person and that I am able to have sex with the morbidly obese. Multiple times. Without making me feel too ashamed about it.

Uta was a roomate of mine who demonstrated how annoying and hypocritical a die-hard feminist can be. I also credit her dog Indy for inspiring me to get a clone of him for myself someday.

Hadeel was a co-worker that I dated who brought me back to reality by instilling humility and toning down my arrogance. Teaching me also, that not every girl I set my sights on is an easy conquest.

Tina who helped me realize the extent of my ability to love another human being and in turn made me believe in the idea of marriage.

Deanna who once reminded me why I don't enjoy having one-night stands and that sex without any emotional attachment or chemistry is only going to cause hurt feelings.

Jessica the lady from eHarmony who made me become conscious of my self-worth and that I was more attractive than I had once thought.

Andrea who taught me the virtue of being honest with my feelings, even if it should hurt others.

Lisa who gave me a shoulder to cry on when I needed one most and reminded me that there are still some good people left in this world.

Lauren.. (sighs) the girl that handed me my first real rejection and provided me with a glimpse of what evil could look like once it dyes its hair red. I'm still processing.

Looking back, there's been a lot of progress since then. I am grateful for being given the privilege of having these people share part of their lives with me. I don't know if I helped make any difference in theirs, but I hope I did.

I appreciate each and every one of these relationships.

To all of you, thank you.

boy gone wild

Two days earlier I stared at my coffee maker with thinly disgused contempt and asked myself:

Why am I putting up with this #*$&#* thing?

Each time I would make coffee, the swivel-lid where the filter basket goes - mysteriously pops open and serenades me with this noisy gurgling as I helplessly watch coffee drip onto the counter.

So I decided I had enough and made my way over to Home Outfitters, where I fell head over heels over this:

The Keurig "Special Edition" single-cup machine of awesomeness.

I had my doubts about these things when I first saw them, the k-cups worked out to about 75 cents a piece but having looked online - I found this site and the price averaged to 63 cents a cup. Not too shabby for someone wanting "chocolate glazed donut" and "cinnamon roll" flavours that you can't find anyplace else.

Also, unlike the new t-discs systems, my baby can brew plain ol' coffee by way of a slick attachment, so basically I can still take it down to 0.0004 cents a cup if I want to get by on the cheap stuff.

So was it worth it? The first thing I've noticed when I turned it on, were the blue lcds that lit up the water reservoir all sexy-like. Then the next thing was how damned fast the coffee ended up brewing. I slipped in a k-cup, hit a button and went to take a whizz. When I came back, gooey hot liquid had already filled my mug. What black magic is this?

The next thing that hit me was the aroma.. wow. THIS is what coffee is like! I did a little jig right there in the kitchen and gulped that shit down like nobody's bizness. Then I had another. And another. And another.

In the first night, I drank.. five cups of coffee and one of tea. I had almost been tempted to place my mouth under the spigot and throw in k-cup after k-cup just to sample all the flavours.

In the morning I ended up having another two and realized, "damn boy-ee, ain't no coffee up in this biznitch". The 12 pack of k-cups were down to four varieties, breakfast tea, two decafs and one Italian "special blend". So I had to make my way down to HomeSense to pick up a fresh batch.

And boy did I do just that. I grabbed four boxes of coffee and walked around with an air of superiority. I gots coffee, bitches! At one point a sales lady asked if I would need a basket to carry all this stuff, to which I replied: "No thank you, I feel more manlier this way."

The Keurig Special Edition. Love it.

Now onto the other stuff I bought.

An acoustic guitar.

650 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets:

A painting for my bedroom wall:

New jeans:

Guhh..

Two buckets of paint:

Uhm, thank you google images.

A papasan chair that I found for $75 on Kijiji WITH ottoman:

Leather jacket:

Yup, that's me.

And a fake plant:

(it's in the background)

So that's that. And you know what? I still don't feel good about myself. Because ultimately, material possessions do little to nurse a broken heart. Try putting a band-aid on a gaping chest wound and see how well that works. It doesn't.

But hey, who am I kidding? I'll be the one laying in bed on 650 thread count sheets, looking at my painting, with a fake plant on my left, a guitar on my lap, drinking some exotic flavour of coffee and wondering if I made a mistake in the shade of paint I used on the walls.

It's worth it...

I think.

the weariness of my being

Seized by the vestiges of iron shackles digging into the flesh of his wrists; Adam straightened his back and moved forward.

Towards the abyss, looming before him like a black nightmare.

The smell of sulphur filled the air, it's odoriferous tentacles violating the sanctity of his nostrils. To this, he grimaced, eyes wildly darting about as he gained his bearings.

All he could see were the flames. From every crack in the ground, a wretched heat emanated with a forked tongue of bright red, dancing with gleeful mockery.

Places like this were supposed to exist only in the imagination, or so he thought. Yet, his eyes could not help but shine in bewilderment as he surveyed the blackened land before him.

He could not see to the other side, nor what laid beyond - yet his feet shuffled in a straight line to a destination that he could not have known.

Naked, streaked with the beads of glistening sweat - Adam peered into the darkness, watching and listening for signs of movement. There were none, for he appeared to be utterly alone.

Hours had passed, he could feel the blisters on the soles of his feet swell with painful abandon as he fought back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.

Fear of the unknown, the gravest kind there is.

The ground crackled with each step, it's dry dusty countenance sullied by the unexpected weight pressed upon it. A deep, dark grey flecked with black. Terrifyingly yielding yet surprisingly resilient.

He fought the fear relentlessly, beating down it's snarling fangs with the hope that he still carried within him. A warm flame rooted firmly in the center of his chest.

"My mind is impenetrable. My will is unmoved. My body possessed. I shall not begrudge myself the luxury of self-pity, for my heart is as pure as ever and my resolve is strong."

The whisper of his words fluttered away into the darkness.

Tears soon began to roll down his cheeks, their salty venom sneaking into the corner of his lips, teasing him with their pearly kisses.

Yet he remained unstirred, unafraid as he pressed his way forward. The clanging of leg-irons marking each step of his journey.

"How had it come to this", he wearily announced to the emptiness. "Why am I to be cursed in spite of my faith? Why these tests?"

He no longer strode forward as confidently as he once had. His head now bowed low to the ground and he could only focus on the noise that the chains were making. A slouched spine bearing evidence of his toil.

As the minutes turned into hours, Adam paused and scrutinized what lay immediately ahead of him.

A shadow of a tall skinny monument appeared distantly in the horizon. It could almost had been mistaken for an overactive imagination had he not looked upon it with hard, glazed eyes.

His tongue dry and coated with thick salivia, he adjusted his trajectory and tentatively made his way in the direction of what he was seeing.

Soon, it loomed before him. The thick clouds of dust that encircled the air surrounding this obelisk masked a horror unlike anything he could ever have conceived of.

He did not have to move any closer to know what it was, the sounds described it better than his eyes could have done.

Soon, the dull whispers surged into the air, rapidly articulating and intensifying with every step he took.

They were screaming.

The sounds chilled him to the bone. A tingling coursed over his body like an icy wave from his stomach to his arms and then into his heart.

He fell down onto his knees once he saw what laid before him.

The tower was a soup of limbs, flailing about wildly. He could see faces peering at him with an expression of pure, unsullied hatefulness. Their mouths moved in a strange discord that did not appear to correspond to any language he has ever heard spoken.

What scared him most, were the eyes. Unblinking orbs the size of a human head looking down upon him in silent judgement. To which verdict, he did not know.

The heat from the ground began to pucker the thin flesh on his knees, yet he remained as he had - kneeling transfixed before this monstrous, cacophonous altar.

He fearfully bowed his head in painful deference to the deep penetrating gaze that the mass appeared to direct upon him. He could feel the intensity of it's glare upon his balding scalp threatening to unravel the very fiber of his soul.

The noise continued unabated, yet he had noticed a subtle shifting that gradually formed the shape of English vowels. He could make out the sounds of "O" and "Am" while he clasped his hands together in silent prayer.

In the span of minutes, the words soon began to appear. Randomly and without apparent meaning, yet he understood clearly what was being said. He knew that soon there would be sentences and with that, a conscious entity shall assert itself.

"Slaughter..." "Hail..." "Madness..." "Death" .. The words will still disjointed, yet the speed at which they were spoken began to increase. An unseen intelligence that was both struggling to absorb and express a form of communication unfamiliar to it.

It cycled rapidly through a vast spectrum of sounds that seemed to coalesce into something that much resembled it's physical appearance. Verbs, nouns and adjectives convulsed furiously about as Adam strained to recognize the meaning of what was being said.

Soon, the limbs ceased their thrashing and dangled lifelessly about. The eyes began to blink.

And the noise stopped as suddenly as it had appeared. For a moment, there was only the clarity of welcome silence hanging in the breeze.

"Adam, look up." A gentle voice filled the air.

The man hesitated, he could feel the wetness of his brow seeping into his eyelashes, forming drops that gaily splashed upon the ground.

"Adam..." The voice became firmer. A thick baritone with a slight feminine nuance. The tone was one of concern rather than condemnation. Fatherly, even. Suspiciously devoid of the malevolence it's frightful appearance had inspired.

The man opened his eyes, mere slits at first and later stripped of the fleshy confines of his eyelids.

He could now see a light beyond this monument of depravity; a reddish-brown hue that emanated far into the distance, but grew closer with each passing second.

The flames were gone, the heat had mysteriously vanished into the cracks of the Earth. The air became cooler, purer and the suffocating smell of sulpher gave way to the rich, musky odour of freshly tilled dirt.

The monument continued to observe him in silence - almost as if it had felt that words alone, could not have sufficiently impressed the gravitas of it's thoughts upon the listener.

It was Adam who dared to speak first. As the distant light expanded itself, he could now make out the grains of tree bark along the sides of this creature. The limbs now could be seen as branches, the eyes were knotholes and suddenly he became aware that it had only been a tree blowing in the wind.

Yet the voice was real, or so he thought. His hand rested upon his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart slowing to an easy, relieved rhythm.

"My God.. " His mouth trembled with uncertainty.

The silence enveloped him warmly with the faintest hint of supressed mirth.

"Your God.." The voice now appeared to reach his brain rather than his ears. It had a distinct, hollow quality that was accompanied by a solemn measure of sadness.

It repeated those words once more, yet plaintively, as if it could not understand the meaning of what it spoke.

Adam bowed his head low to the ground, feeling blades of grass brushing against his ears.

"For are you not? Why have you forsaken me?"

Several minutes had gone by.

There was not one whisper more.

Soon, the sun peeked out over a thick belt of fog and Adam began to stand on his feet.

There was a lake nearby, the reflection of dawn playing across cool, still waters. The chirping of birds filling his ears with innocent and joyous melodies.

The voice remained quiet. Yet, he did not have to strain to hear an answer to the question that he had asked.

He first felt it deep within his being. A radiance that seemed to unapologetically spread itself out, flooding his core with an elegant and simple grace. He could feel a blossoming in his heart and a smile crept onto his face once he recognized the sensation that he was beginning to experience.

It was love.

It had never once abandoned him.

dude, you have no quran!

'cause I gots to:

and it reminded me of this:

furiously forlorn

..It's time for me to vent again.

I hate feeling like this, unable to shake thoughts of my ex-girlfriend. They linger like a cloud of fruit flies, swarming every which way - not actually biting, but creating enough of a nuisance that I'm forced to own up to how I'm feeling.

I'm still in love with her.

And.. I can't seem to stop thinking about us. The good, the bad, and the points in-between. I think of how I could have done things differently around her, but I realize at the same time - that the ride we went on didn't leave much room for me to be objective.

When she initiated the first breakup, there wasn't much I could have done. All I could do was confess my feelings to her and allow the relationship to be inadvertently taken to the next level. And the next level to me, was totally premature at just the one-month mark. So really, she wanted to dump me over ONE evening of not "fitting in" with her friends? That's all the proof she needs of my social prowess? Really? And these were "friends" that she later confessed who were going to move away, or that she will move away from. Who cares if I don't get along with her disposable friends. What did matter is that I got along with her brother and his wife, though she later changed her mind about that as well. I've always been interested in forging meaningful connections with others and not with people who need to put on a show to cover up their pathetic insecurities. Which is what I was expected to blend in with.

It was sick. Perverse, even.

Yet, she wanted to dump me over a test that few people could have passed. And those were the only friends of hers that I have met. Who cares about the rest of them, because I act like this in ALL social situations right? I couldn't even get anything scheduled with MY friends because of the difficulty of getting babysitting. Try coordinating anything spontaneous with a single mom and I guarantee it will fall apart like a wet, cardboard box 95 percent of the time.

I remember prior to this first breakup, I was a happy man to have found her. I was on cloud seventeen, amped up and firing on all cylinders. Finally I met someone who was a lot like me in so many ways, that I immediately realized how important it was not to botch things up by cranking the dial. Yet, the breakup pushed it into second gear without my consent and I was forced into a state of panic and insecurity which became worse over time.

'Tis a slippery slope, that insecurity I say. Because as things progressed, all I could do was hold on to whatever measure of self-control I had left and at the same time - to try and be more accommodating towards her. Because hey, who knew what this crazy chick was going to do next? It seemed like she was always looking for a reason to crucify me. At one point I thought we were going to break up over my snoring. Or that I was being too affectionate, or not enough. Whatever.

Still though, I keep thinking about the last thing I should have texted her with. In an earlier post, I pasted it up along with my reply and now I'm beginning to regret saying what I did. Because it was pathetic in a way.. It was true to how I felt at the time, but it felt like a forced confession as I had to process what she wrote and come up with something that addressed it in an intelligent and honest way.

Sadly, my emotions broke free of their restraints and I lost the opportunity to clearly express myself.

Big fail on that point. Here's the message she last sent me:

Your concern is patronizing and unwarranted. You're the one who can't regulate your emotions, admit responsibility or take no for an answer.

And being passionate is not the same as being irrational and overly sensitive.

There is something about your neediness, sensitivity, and dependency that inspires meanness in me. I don't like it. But you don't back off

I wasn't happy with what I came up with in response to that. Maybe what I should have said was:

You know Lauren, I was not the person you've just described at the beginning of our relationship. Maybe you should be taking responsibility for being inconsiderate and selfish by asking for that first breakup.

Because look at what we had after we got pass that. Canmore, hanging out with Soph, great sex, fun conversations, I thought we complemented each other very well.. There was a lot of good in what we had, yet it was always your warped sense of entitlement that kept you from investing yourself and taking things seriously with us."I want to go out with movie guy!" wahh. Look, NO freaking boyfriend would agree to you going out with a single guy - who had designs on you, to a movie.And definitely not after a breakup weeks earlier. Get real. The fact that you didn't care about what I thought, only proves how self-centered and egotistical you really are.

You have the gall to call ME irrational after how you conducted yourself? Why not own up to your behavior? I mean, it's right there in, "inspired meanness" isn't it? Who's fault was that? Talk about a copout excuse if you're laying blame at my doorstep.

It bothers me to say this but I still love and want to be with you. The only issue I've ever had was your inability to be empathic. It's your Achille's heel and you are too wrapped up in your fantasy world to acknowledge and take responsibility for it.

It's truly ironic that you are a therapist with such a weak grasp of a quality that your profession demands and expects.

Yet, I am unchanged in how I feel towards you except that I feel much sadder these days. Because I don't think you are mature enough to handle any kind of relationship without you wanting to fulfill some impossible standard that you've set for your partner.

So I will wait for you. Once you are able to get a dose of reality and find yourself humbled by it. You might even discover that yes, love IS enough. In fact, it's hard to come by.

Good night Lauren. Be well.

Kind of a long text, I admit. And it still feels like there's more to say. I mean, why is it up to ME to have to prove myself worthy of her? Does this not go both ways? I have overlooked her shortcomings because I recognized the potential of us early on and knew she was capable of being a good person. Yet, she was blinded by her inflated sense of worth ("I'll be making a $175 an hour next year!"). That's not to say that I think she should settle for anything less than she deserves - it only means that she was incapable of being patient enough to fully understand and explore what I did have to offer...

My heart, body, mind and soul. I would never cheat on, lie to or manipulate the person that I love. I'm intelligent, spontaneous, thoughtful, passionate, authentic and true to what I believe in. I would have been a trustworthy and formidable partner who is in fact - ambitious, yet needs to feel a measure of stability in his relationships. I don't want my mind flooded with thoughts of a girlfriend who willingly admits to cheating, is incapable of monogamy, wants to date other guys and enjoys maliciously cutting away at my self-esteem.

Who needs that shit?

I have turned down two marriage proposals in my life. I'm praised for my sensitivity and appreciated for my wit and humor. I've dated into the double-digits and I have made girls cry over my leaving, sending me letters not unlike the one that I am now writing to myself.

Maybe it's karma that's kicking me in the ass, I don't know. Prior to meeting Lauren, I've yet to have been involved in a relationship that excited me to be a part of.

But.. I am cursed for revealing my innermost feelings to this girl who could not comprehend the honest and articulate way that I expressed them. Violating a trust that I thought would have been respected and appreciated - yet, never reciprocated.

She was unable to get up to my level and realize that we could have been something special, had she bothered to try taking things more seriously.

.. I really don't know what else to say, but I do know that I didn't deserve to be judged as harshly as I had been.

I wish I could have taken things in stride and not be so affected by the conflicts we've had. But, that was just an insecurity prompted by the inflicted fear of losing her. I don't think I could have done anything differently other than holding on and not wanting to let go.

I am done with playing games, I've grown up and hated myself for being manipulative in the past, only wanting casual sex and casual relationships.

Payback's a bitch, I suppose.

So, the roller coaster came to a stop and the passengers disembarked, leaving through the turnstiles with memories of their experience together. Yet, only one person emerged feeling like he could have ridden this ride for the rest of his life.

Had he been able to.

.. I would do anything to have her back with me again.

I love her. To me, that is all I would ever want from another person.

I wish she could say the same.

the tea conundrum

Yesterday I dared to be different. I stepped inside of a store called "David's Tea" with a measure of trepidation and equal parts curiosity.

I mean, what the hell is this place? They sell tea? No way! So my cousin and I took tentative steps towards the front counter, where we were greeted by a *sizzle* uber hot cashier who promptly spent the next half hour bringing us all the cans of tea she could carry.

For the pleasure of our flared nostrils, of course.

As we sampled exotica ranging from "Love Potion No.9" to brands eerily named "Secret Weapon", I couldn't help but think:

Do people actually buy this stuff? Granted, some of the teas they had prompted a raised eyebrow or two, but it was when I came across "Forever Nuts" - with actual nuts - that I started to question the legitimacy of such a niche operation.

I mean really, they expect you to BOIL this? Nuts? What's keeping me from buying a bag of peanuts and just doing it myself? Why don't I mix in some lima beans and fistfuls of my pubic hair while I'm at it? The real comedy was to be had in the pricing. A hundred grams of whatever tea works out to about 11 bucks. Sheesh, you've got to be kidding me. There must have been a few dozen oddities, including one containing popcorn and another that smelled suspiciously like a Japanese vagina (not that I would know, of course).

As I pondered and pontificated and unabashedly flirted with the cashier; I couldn't help but ask:

"Do you have anything meat flavoured?"

I love the pause that people often react with, and the deer in headlights look on their faces. My timing was superb, my delivery .. impeccable. She stammered, then laughed once she figured out that I wasn't being serious.

Sadly, the cashier didn't jump the counter and start tearing clothes off to get at my awesomeness. But that didn't keep me from vividly imagining a much different scenario in where I asked how much she makes per hour, and then offering to match it.

I mean, maybe she'd be good at making me tea in the mornings.. in the nude, mind you. It's worth the 8 bucks an hour I figure, plus I can probably make her do dishes and water the "plants" afterwards.

Note how quotation marks can instantly turn a word into an awesome sexual innuendo. Funny how that works.

Anyways, after much hemming and hawing, I promised to "think" about which one to get and my cousin and I bolted. I briefly considered buying a generic bag of tea from the nearby dollar store just so I could walk by with barely contained excitement:

"Hey! I found the one I was looking for! Finally!"

But it would've been way hard keeping a straight face.

David's Tea.. for all your loose-leaf needs. Try some today.

And if you would like to learn how to make iced tea, you NEED to watch this.

It's a treat for you.. drink it!

Last night I sat down to watch The Road, featuring Robert Duvall, Guy Pearce and Viggo Mortenson's buttocks (two scenes! WITH cellulite!) in a special "For the love of fuck, PLEASE give us an oscar for this!" performance.

It is the story of a young child being helped along as he makes his difficult way through puberty against the backdrop of southern rural America, in the early 1960s... Uhm, wait. Actually, no it isn't.

This film is based on the Cormac McCarthy book of the same name, a tale set in a post-nuclear (?) future in which the driving theme is about a father's love for his child and the loss of humanity. It was recommended to me last year by a friend and promptly devoured in the space of three days. As I was tearing into it, I was both impressed at the economical and bleak style of writing yet there were a few elements that I found irritating.

For one thing, the dialogue in the book is horrendous. I'm certain that a pair of neanderthals clapping rocks together would have offered more insight and exposition than the characters in the novel did.

Another issue I had, was the ending. It wasn't what I expected. It was open-ended, and ultimately a disappointment. Why? Because the damned kid appeared ungrateful for the sacrifices his father had made for him.

The ending that McCarthy wrote, (spoilerz!) made an implication that the child was to be the saviour of mankind, he carried the "fire" within his heart. Yet as the book came to an end - he treats his father's death with the equivalent of a shoulder shrug. This was in conflict with the way the narrative unfolded in which the boy was given every possible luxury and treated like the pubescent second coming of Christ.

Come on. You don't just say "oh well, dad's dead" and then latch onto this other family who happens to be wandering by afterwards. It made me lose all empathy for this kid, which I suppose may have been lazy writing. (oh noes, my publishing deadline is nearing!)

(/spoiler) So I didn't come into this film with any high expectations other than wanting to see a reasonable faithfulness towards the source material. Surprisingly, the director made it work out fairly well. The colour palette effectively conveyed a gloomy, post-nuclear fallout vibe and the score by Nick Cave of all people - was subtle and whimsical, very much appropriate.

Yet, where the film fails, is in the deviations it makes. There are at least a half a dozen flashbacks involving Viggio's wife (as played by Charlize Theron) and while it is always a joy (in most men's pants) to see Charlize prance about, it doesn't work for this film.

The idea of the novel (which didn't have any of these flashbacks, or as many), is to draw the reader into a bleak, unforgiving post-apocalyptic world. However, the director decided to break up any perceived monotony by throwing in these brightly-shot vignettes to offset the doom and gloominess.

Big mistake.

The thing is, we are SUPPOSED to experience discomfort which is what I thought the novel excelled at doing. The cinematic flashbacks, in a way, diminished the intensity of hopelessness which is prevalent throughout and kills the tone. Except for that one flashback where Viggio ravages his wife's naughty bits at the opera (that scene can stay).

But, the film version of The Road - as well crafted, shot, acted etc, just doesn't hit the mark. But it didn't fall apart at the seams either. It's a cinematic experience where you can blow off a couple of hours and be entertained. What more would you want from a rental anyways, right? So it delivered on that front.

Yet as a legacy that shall endure, or even as a contender of any kind of award (other than cinematography), The Road ain't all that. There are some scenes worth watching that I continue to be impressed by, the coke can ("it's a treat for you") and the part where they leave a robber naked in the road to die, as he whimpers with strands of snot dripping off his face. It's a powerfully emotional moment and it left quite an impression. Yet, those type of scenes are few and far in-between.

I suppose much of the blame falls on McCarthy as well. I don't think I remember reading about irradiated mutants aimlessly wandering around carrying giant clubs with nails poking out of them raping anything that moved. I feel that the story could have been tweaked out a bit more and given a little extra oomph.

So that's that. My out of 11 ranking (just 'cause I'm boss like that), would put the Road at a..

Hmm.. Let's say, 7.45 / 11. Making it a bit better than average, yet without approaching the "omg I want to watch it again!" level.

Also, the asscheeks killed part of the score. I'm sorry, but when you got a guy romping about in the nude and the kid keeps his clothes on (to the detriment of pedobears the world over) - it just smacks of shoehorning in a gratuitous spectacle. I'm looking at you, Eastern Promises. *shakes fist*

In other news. I still love Lauren and I'm back to being a cynical asshole.

As you were.

closure - it's whats for dinner

Finally. I finally got what I wanted from my relationship.

Closure. The knowing why and how it came to an end.

A few days ago, I was at Walmart holding in my hand a case of bottled water when I happened to noticed the Halloween costumes all up on racks nearby. I've always enjoyed checking out the latest advancement in costume technology and sadly, there wasn't much other than latex Avatar masks that bucked the trend of vampires, werewolves and a kit containing everything one needs in order to impersonate Michael Jackson. Yeah, the single glove with glitter was included, the prosthetic nose sadly, was not.

Yet, it was when my watchful gaze travelled towards the children costumes did I notice one in particular that caught my attention.

It was this:

AUGHHghh. How disgustingly cute is that? There was no way I could possibly resist purchasing this item, despite the fact that I am single and have no children of my own. Sad to say.

Yet, my ex-girlfriend's child came to mind. Her name is Sophia, a precocious two years old with an unhealthy Elmo fetish. She is exactly the person an Indonesian seamstress earned six cents and contributed sixteen minutes of her life towards.

I knew Soph would enjoy wearing it :)

But.. as any reader of this blog would know, I have broken up with the ex and such a gesture may be interpreted as an excuse to worm my way back into a relationship.

This was so not the case for me. I bought it because I knew Soph would like it and as a result, the thought alone was all I needed to be content with.

Yet, it was problematic of me to decide whether or not I should lay this costume at the front door and leave, or maybe I would be able to knock and give this gift in person.

A few days passed, to last night and I bit the bullet.

I texted Lauren saying that I missed her.

Ugh. It's true. It's probably not what I should have said, but in my heart it was something that needed to be expressed. How do I know this? Because for most of my day I had been fighting off a headache that immediately resolved itself after I had sent this message.

The only explanation I can come up with, is that my repressed emotions were physically causing me pain.

So, with that text sent, we chatted off and on over the course of the day. I wasn't sure what I was doing other than enjoying talking to her and getting up to speed with how her life has been lately. The next day however, I dropped the bomb and told Lauren of the costume I had for Soph. She expressed a concern that I was crossing the "ex boundary" and that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea.

I explained myself as best as I could. That I was doing this out of my own free will, that there was no ulterior motive or strings attached to this deal. I just wanted her child to be happy, which despite my not being directly involved in her life - made me feel a little happier as well.

It was a tough decision for me to do, but I had already purchased this outfit and I wasn't going to throw it away. So I drove up to Lauren's house and left it at the door, as she suggested I do. It didn't feel all that great to be honest, not being able to come inside and see the smile on her child's face as I handed it over. But hey.. I still felt a measure of joy from having done this. I don't regret it.

Over the next few hours, words were exchanged through text and finally the tipping point presented itself and these were what followed:

What else do you want from me, David? I can't imagine that our continued correspondence is a good thing. Its just dragging it on and on.

I just can't understand you Lauren. I really can't. You've been all over the place in our relationship and I am genuinely concerned about your behavior.

Your concern is patronizing and unwarranted. You're the one who can't regulate your emotions, admit responsibility or take no for an answer.

And being passionate is not the same as being irrational and overly sensitive.

There is something about your neediness, sensitivity, and dependency that inspires meanness in me. I don't like it. But you don't back off.

Thanks for finally opening up about how you feel. I could argue with you all night about what you said but the fact is...

I still love you. And you have yet to know what that word even means. Maybe someday you will.

Good night Lauren.

And thank you for a lesson that I needed to learn.

No, it wasn't easy for me to take, but I needed to hear those words. The thing with Lauren is that she always had a hard time articulating how she felt. This was an aspect of our relationship that greatly contributed to it's failure as it was often up to me to try and understand what was going through her mind at any given time.

Even direct questions were often met with a blank stare or given an answer that offered little insight into the feelings she kept to herself.

Yes, I admit and take responsibility for my actions. I was needy, insecure and dependent. I know that. I accept it and I am a better person now for being able to pinpoint what I did wrong.

What must be understood is that I did not enter the relationship as the kind of person Lauren described. This was the result of her attempted breakup and I began to feel more insecure and desperate for anything that I could plant both feet in. There was never any sense of commitment given by her to me. Only the barest illusion of it.

She is a tragedy that has yet to fully appreciate what love really is and what it involves. This sort of truth is usually revealed when one has suffered or experienced rejection, things that are alien to her comprehension as she had always been the first to leave a relationship.

There is nothing sadder than a person who is incapable of understanding and expressing love for another human being. Or for themselves. People often mimic what they feel "love" should be, and quite often, it becomes more mechanical then genuine. Like a bad pantomime.

This is something that I and Lauren both need to work on as we go our separate ways. I had surrendered my individuality to this person and was disrespected for having done so. That was my biggest mistake and I have no choice but to pay for it.

Hers, was not knowing what love really is and the things that it involves doing. You do not say "I love you" and then hurt the person you are with for no reason other than to serve an insecurity within yourself that demands malicious and cruel behaviour.

I should add that she has been sexually abused as a child. Maybe her manipulative behaviour is operating from a sense of helplessness and a desire to control others.

I don't know. I might never know why she acted this way if she can't even explain it herself.

I wasn't proud of what I did today. Part of me did operate out of self-interest rather than altruism. That is not to say I didn't care, or used the gift as an excuse to connect, but that is direction that I unexpectedly went towards.

So.. with a heavy heart, I must accept responsibility for compromising the truth that I carry within. The lesson being, to never succumb to another person's whims at the expense of your values and needs. Love should be giving, understanding, respectful and caring. It is supposed to bring out the best side of another human being, not the worst.

It was a tough lesson and I am still learning it. It is not easy for me to admit at the moment, but I am fortunate to have had this experience to grow and evolve from.

And.. I think I can start to move on now. Though I haven't had all of my questions answered, I think the most important one was knowing if Lauren meant what she said when I asked if she loved me.

"Yes, I believe so."

It appeared to be a hesitant and unsure answer.

I still love her though, but in a different way now.

And I will suffer the pain of it. For however long it lasts.

God help me.

I am such a loser.

wistfully withering wantonly

There was a man, living in a house, alone, sad and weary on a quiet, unassuming Sunday afternoon.

He was reclining in a chair shaped like a bowl, resting upon a wooden base. It was much like the feeling of being encased in the womb, yet with a startling degree of comfort and a lack of a umbilical cord attached to his bellybutton.

It was upon this throne, that the man mused. Contemplated, even. The vastness of the space he found himself within. A bedroom, large in size with a walk in closet and a bathroom, fumes of paint tinted the air he breathed as he sat upon this chair, typing on his laptop with quiet intensity.

Listening to the sounds outside of his home, the man could discern cars in the distance, growling softly as they made their way to whichever the destination may be. The sound would swell at first and gently fade into the wind until it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

Winter was coming. As he sat in his chair, the back of his head rested near an open-window to which cold, icy fingers reached inside to brush lightly against his neck. This was his feared nemesis, the bane of his existence, an enemy that is silently marching towards his door in proportionally greater strength with each passing day.

Summer has faded into the nothingness from whence it came. There would no longer be joy in stepping outside to appreciate the tree in his front yard, as it regretfully shedded the leaves that clung to it's branches. It, as well as others, wither into skeletons during this season. Sticks reaching for the sky in protest, the garments that it had been garbed within, laying scattered among it's feet, curled up and decaying.

Yet, the man resigned himself to his fate. It was the natural order of things after all. And it would be difficult to appreciate summers without the contrast of winter. For as he was well aware, it is the pain that makes pleasure all that much more meaningful.

And he was in pain. His head throbbed, whether it be from the fumes in the room he was in, or caused by the cigar he had smoked a short while ago. His stomach gently growled, the suppression of hunger was something he had grown used to.

For he was unable to find much joy in food. It seemed to him that he has tasted all that life had to offer and he could not find any contentment or surprises that he could lavish his taste buds with.

Music, also, sparkled much less brightly than it once had for him. His ears seemed to strip a melody of it's magic, leaving only a husk in it's place that shuffled reluctantly into his heart.

An emptiness enveloped him, as he sat in his moon chair, clinging to the illusion of the warm embrace that it offered. Yet, his soul knew that it was not being comforted, or given what it needed.

He sighed, letting a soft gust of air escape his lips. There was not much that could cheer him up at this point. He knew the hurt that held a fierce grip upon his soul, it's claws digging ever that much deeper whenever he should ruminate upon it.

The one thing that he feared most, was losing his ability to love again. To feel and connect with the passion he once had. For he had been such a man, kind, gentle and in love with life, yet, as he sat alone, his heart grew heavier with each passing moment.

His thoughts cried out in silent agony, as if they were beggers in ragged clothing with empty hats reaching towards him. He could not bear the sight of them. Tears threatened to fill his eyes as he forced himself to look away, feeling shame as he did so.

The man sat in his bedroom with bare feet rubbing lightly on the carpet. Hair, wet from a shower that he didn't really need but took anyways, anything that would help distract him often became solicited and welcome diversions.

Anything to keep from feeling this pain.

The man sat. Typing on his laptop.

Not knowing what he should do next.

the hardest part of being in love..

.. is letting go.


I still have knots in my stomach.

Quizzes like these makes me smile. I had a strong urge to braid my hair after taking it.

It's Genuine Love!

The genuine love bug has most likely bitten! You have the mature ability to see your guy in the true light of day, without putting him up on some pedestal of perfection. Unconditional caring is essential to any strong bond, and will be a stable basis for weathering any emotional storms between you. Real romantic love will usually endure, and even deepen, when the going gets tough. Good luck, lucky girl!

Lucky girl, indeed. :P

the bitter morning after pill

I really don't enjoy dating. It's not so much as worrying about making a good first impression, but it's the whole random factor of not knowing what type of person you will end up meeting. There are people who consider this part of dating to be the most exciting, but not me. I consider the most interesting part of a relationship is the moment when two people open themselves up emotionally and sexually. And the initial meeting can only offer a small glimpse of potential.

So, last night was coffee with Lisa. She's 36, single and had just left a nine-year relationship. Prior to meeting her, she seemed sweet, smart, sassy and in touch with her emotions. While we didn't have a whole lot of emails or text messages exchanged, we did favour quality over quantity and her perspective on my breakup was invaluable and very appreciated. So, it felt like I was in debt to this person and that I owed her for the help she had given me.

In the two hours we spent there, I was on. Ribald. Suave. Funny. Smart. Flirtatious. Yet, as I stared into her dark, brown eyes I couldn't help but wish they were ..

(sighs) .. Lauren's color.

No. I'm still not over it.

You would think that the cure for a broken heart is to be with someone new, and I'm sorry to say that it didn't help very much.

While we shared two hours of non-stop conversation and later made plans for the weekend, I felt sad afterwards. This wasn't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, not even close. Though she shared a lot of the same views I do, there was just something "off" about the meeting that I couldn't put my finger on.

It felt to me, as if my body showed up but my heart stayed at home. When we discussed sex, there was a stirring of emotion that had me leaning forward like a giant perv, but there wasn't anything else I was interested in. She works two jobs, is busy with home renovations / friends and with the small amount of free time that she does have, it's not spent on any artistic or intellectual pursuit like music, movies or books. She openly confessed that she doesn't have a hobby, a favourite band or is all that interested in doing anything creative.

.. This sucks. While it was fun to hang out with her and be reminded that I hadn't lost sight of the man I've always been, I still felt disappointed in her not living up to the online persona that she created.

There's something to be said for chemistry, there really is. If it's not there, it's not worth pursuing. But, in this case, I am interested in seeing where it might go. Maybe things will change over time and I will begin to see her in a different light, but I can only be cautiously optimistic about that.

So.. that was the date. It went well. It was two hours. And we made plans for a movie on the weekend. Big whoop. The only thing that I'm somewhat intrigued by is how sexually generous she made herself out to be. Not in the "omg what a whore" kind of way, but in the "I love giving BJs and don't ask for anything in return" way. After having been involved with someone who wasn't very affectionate, this was a welcome change of pace for me.

After we exchanged our goodbyes, I found myself making the long drive back home from the West End. As I passed 156 street, I realized that ..

(sighs)

.. Lauren lives on 149th.

I figured I would drive by. For what reason, I don't know. I just wanted to see her place again and maybe feel a bit better for having done so.

As I sat in the car down the block looking at the light on her front porch, something welled up inside of me.

It was like... I had butterflies in my stomach, but a more deeper and balanced sensation.

So I got out of the car, thinking I would knock on her door, ask for a hug and then leave. I walked up, knocked and it took me all of six seconds as I was waiting, to realize that I am a complete, fucking idiot for doing this.

I turned around and left, glancing at the window to notice a silhouette of her head framed against the computer monitor. Whether she was deliberately ignoring answering the door, or oblivious to it - I forced myself to walk back to the car and drive home.

I hated myself for that. But I'm glad I didn't knock a second time, I think that says something about me that I should be proud of. At least I came to understand that I have some measure of self-control in this situation and that I can .. (dammit) try ..to go on with my life. That I was able to step outside of my feelings and look at what I was doing, knocking on the door of an ex-girlfriend who is unwilling to love and accept me for who I am.

.. I can't be with someone like that. But why.. why does it still hurt so fucking much? Why is it that I'm fighting back tears as I write this and why can't I stop thinking about her?

.. I hate not knowing the difference between love and obsession.

I hate it.

FML.

pride and prune juice

So I'm taking this entry to expose the sinister underpinnings of what my brainz has been up to lately.

I'm talking about "the book" of course. An imposing tome bound in human skin that shall become the legacy that I will leave behind.

The thing is, I hate discussing the book. As I was looking over past entries on my blog, I came across one that laid out how I felt about being motivated enough to put a book together. I started thinking, well, that was three years ago almost wasn't it? What have I done since then? And it hit me.

A hell of a lot more than I had hoped for.

It's interesting how it works. I have been consumed by many ideas for a book or screenplay during my lifetime, yet there was always that moment when I'm forty pages in and thinking, "geez, I like this other idea better." And then whatever I've done flies away like a deflating balloon. Pfbhthtjrkghghtutututtttt! It even makes that sound as it exits my consciousness.

It doesn't help that all of my previous ideas have been given enthusiastic green-lights by people who have read them, there was just nothing that inspired me enough to keep pushing forward with it.

Until last year that is. When I came across an idea so audacious that my enthusiasm has yet to wane over it. While I can't possibly describe what it is in detail, it is the most original thing I have ever thought of.

What really hit me, when going over that one post from two years ago, was the amount of pages I have came up with.

over TWO HUNDRED. Two hundred and nineteen to be exact, and that is not including the 136 pages I have of "supplemental" material that I still need to work on.

So I think I've found it. I've discovered what my legacy shall end up being, and it will be this book.

The fun part about writing to me, is how when I go about my daily routine, something just "pops" into my noggin and I scramble to get it written down before it flutters away.

Take for example a quote like this:

"Culture is the reflection of humanity's spirit."

It's short, sure, but it's true and to the point. It's what I consider to be a lead-in, where one sentence can inspire a diatribe or monologue that can be segued into. It can be fleshed out, dissected, examined, fried with bacon and then surreptitiously consumed (YUM). At the very least, it can inspire a few extra pages worth of material that I can shoehorn into the main body of my manuscript.

I'm really proud of what I have accomplished with this, and how it feels when I put together a paragraph that sings it's way off the page and renews my faith in the process.

The thing is, it's not an easy task to write a few hundred pages of fiction. Non-fiction, sure, I mean you can always find references and people to quote. There's a formal structure that is fairly simple to follow when it comes to putting together a "how to" or anything that is rooted in exploration of an existing or new idea.

But fiction? There is always the risk that your imagination will run out of steam at some point and you would have to start taking ideas from other sources.

I'm glad that isn't the case with what I'm doing. Not at this point, anyways.

Two hundred pages. When I look at my binder struggling to contain what I have written this past year, I can't help but feel both intimidated and proud of what I have done.

This isn't a subject I'm comfortable discussing, but who cares? As far as my friends know, this blog died years ago and I'm shocked whenever I see a visitor listed on my site meter, so.. at least this all appears to be quite anonymous. Though I do wonder why I'm posting it online when I should maybe consider doing an offline journal.

But hey, I love this blog and there's a sentimental attachment that I still have towards it.

So, this is me brushing off the cobwebs of trying to write informally again. I miss the times when every day was an adventure and I think blogging was really something that I needed to be doing more often. Because, it becomes inspirational in it's own way. "What should I blog about today?" is a thought that can reoccur over the course of my daily routine, and thusly encourages a more objective and interested perspective in the things that go on around me.

Let's hope I can get back to doing this seriously again, because I love it. I miss it. And I should never have abandoned it.

(*kisses monitor*)

Four more hours until I get to go out on a date! Maybe I'll even brag write about it!

the river of deceit flows down

Getting up out of bed today had me thinking almost immediately about what I wrote last night.

Lauren. Lauren. Lauren.

I admit it. I’m obsessed, or I at least have a hard time letting go of her. The second part rings truer than the first because I can’t bring myself to think that there is anyone else out there that I’d rather be with (excluding Patricia Arquette, Beyonce and Catwoman).

It really fucking sucks to have this kind of thing on my mind from morning to night. I’m finding ways to keep distracted but the free moments almost inevitably lead to a recollection of the good and bad of my past relationship.

The visual of her face framed by clouds as we had sex in her backyard.
The time she attacked me and made love on the couch.
The way holding her hand felt so right as we watched a movie together.
The way she tucked her feet into my lap as we sat opposite each other on the patio.

The time we spent in Canmore listening to the radio in bed and the god awesome steak we shared together.

The fights. The hypocrisy. Having her daughter hug my leg. Random memories that float from outside of my peripheral awareness and dance about for immediate attention.

Then, the sudden urge to look at pictures of us together on my phone. The occasional teary eye.

Whenever I think my obsession has to do with wanting to change her mind or feeling like I will never find anyone else like her out there; I’m reminded of something my friend Jerry said.

“10-08-30 4:15 PM: I think you may realize that Lauren as a whole may be pretty unique and it will be difficult to find someone quite like her. But her good attributes, the things you liked about her won't be. If you focus on finding someone like Lauren then it will be a long and difficult process...”

That is so true.

It’s funny, but I keep reminding myself of the negative qualities this girl has. And I can think of many. Sure, she wasn’t perfect, but she was a lot like me. We were both flawed. And had my upbringing been a little different, I suspect my life would have followed the same trajectory as hers. I would’ve gone for a Ph.D in psych as well. I love helping people, I enjoy trying to understand and work through their problems. It's something I’m very passionate about and would have done had my destiny thought otherwise. And had I been with a more supportive family who wouldn't have pushed me away from psychology/writing, there's no telling what I could have accomplished by now.

The chemistry.. the rapport.. I just can’t get over how there was rarely a dull or awkward moment with this person.

But really, is she the one I am meant for?

How can a girlfriend look me square in the eye and cheerfully announce, "I'm going to visit my ex while in Toronto!" days after we had a fight about seeing ex's? Is she that clueless? Inconsiderate? Or was I privy to the reflection of the depth of cruelty she is capable of expressing?

What kind of person is she? How can she go from "You're the only man for me" to "I think we should see other people." Or, "I love you." - said with a straight face, and weeks later: "I'm holding out for someone more compatible."

How can someone change their mind like this at the drop of a hat? Is this the kind of person I would want to be with? Someone who has admitted to cheating in the past and claiming monogamy "is such a struggle" for her?

How? I am really trying hard to understand how she arrived at all this. I know she's heartless, cruel, emotionally-immature and stubborn as hell, but..

I can't stop thinking about her. It hurts knowing how casually she curb-stomped our relationship.

I spend all day thinking about her. I'm trying to distract myself but my thoughts keep gravitating towards someone who seems incapable of being a decent, caring human being.

Why that is, I’m really not sure. I just know that the heart wants what the heart wants and allowing myself to feel the pain of seperation is just another step in the grieving process.

Or maybe I hate giving up. Or maybe I want something I can't have.

Maybe it really is love. Though I question why after all that she has done, that I’m still feeling this way. Conflicted. Confused. Unable to move on.

And why a new girl in my life is unable to fill the void that was left behind.

I don’t know.

I’m going to home depot and buy paint for my bedroom. It’s time to put the focus back on my life where it belongs. Yeah, on home improvement. I can only laugh at how trivial it is in comparison to what it feels being without someone to hug and kiss.

(sighs) .. It’s another day.

I’ll get by.

oh, snap

Wow. Seeing my blog again for the first time in a year has stirred a mess of emotions, both good and bad.

I’ve neglected my baby :’(

I didn’t mean to lose sight of the importance of journalling, but there were several good reasons for me to do so. I had wanted to put focus on other areas of my life, chief among them trying to accomplish what I wanted most.

To be loved.

.. It’s pathetic isn’t it? People usually desire trivial things. Money, fame, prestige, respect, admiration, a good-hearted towel-whip on the buttocks. But I wanted something deeper, something more meaningful and visceral in the way that poets would describe as the nakedness of the soul. I wanted to feel like I could give myself up to someone who was willing to drop the pretences, the cynicism that comes with living in such a shitty, materialistic and “me”-centric world. Someone I could be myself around and not have to apologize or feel insecure about.

I wanted to be loved.. and I found someone, who for the first time in my life seemed to have *almost* all of the criteria that I have come to admire in the relationships I’ve been. She was smart, funny, pretty, independent, strong-willed, fun in bed, was able to wax philosophically as well as being able to discuss psychology which is a fascination of mine... but she was also petty, insensitive, selfish, superficial, ambitious to the point of being oblivious and took my feelings for granted.

Yet I loved her like I’ve never loved anyone else before.

It’s a sad fucking cliche to hear these stories of unrequited love or the ones where the perfect couple gets torn apart due to some unforeseen calamity and the guy/girl falls apart at the seams. You see it all the time in movies, books, songs and in the question in the back of everyone’s mind is:

“Can that shit even exist?”

And I’m .. pained to say that .. it does and it does not. Things like “The Notebook” can happen. But it is so rare to find that perfect person whom you wish to share your entire life with. Especially when you misinterpret their motives and what level of commitment they are willing to give.

I made a mistake in thinking that I did find the right girl. That Lauren was everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m a broken, bitter person now for the things I have been through in the past three months.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe the kind of love I am searching for doesn’t exist. Maybe I need to be content with a woman who prefer me to be an asshole rather than a genuine, honest human being. Because face it, 80% of relationships is a power-struggle. You give, you take, they give, they take. It’s just the way it works and quite often, being upfront about your feelings is like emptying the bullets out of your rifle in the middle of a war. BE VERY FUCKING CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE DOING. Because there is nothing more dangerous in this world, than to trust someone so completely that you’ve willingly disclosed your vulnerabilities without asking for anything in return.

Well, that’s not quite true. I asked her, or should I say, ASSUMED that she would reciprocate in kind. That had I been honest and proved myself trustworthy, that I would receive the same treatment. Treat others as you wish to be treated. Someone has to make the first move, right?

Was that ever a mistake. Not only did I find myself being thought of as being unworthy of respect and told I wasn’t “smart” enough to be with her; I also had to endure the trauma of having an axe taken to the concept of love that I have been nurturing all my life. This person shook my beliefs to the core and all I can feel right now is pure contempt for allowing me to be able to trust and confide in someone who wasn’t willing or capable of expressing their feelings in an equally honest and straightforward way.

I’m so ashamed of myself for the way it turned out.

But let’s get back to the beginning.

Lauren and I had met online through a dating site, we texted back and forth, emailed and eventually spoke on the phone. I suggested we meet up for a movie and thought nothing of it.

I wasn’t particularly excited about this date. Or this person, though she was a bit more interesting than the other women I’ve conversed online with. I mean, this girl could hold her own in a conversation without resorting to LOLs and one-line responses. That was impressive enough for me to warrant a date, but I would never have seen the trainwreck coming had things not unfolded as they did.

I think the pivotal moment for me was sitting opposite Lauren, looking into her eyes and thinking “my god, she’s beautiful”. But, before someone can assume it was only appearance or lust that clinched it for me, I can say that while this wasn’t quite love at first sight, it felt very promising. It seemed real. The connection was simply there.

She was overweight and a single-mom, but to me, those aspects were easy to overlook. Only the superficial and shallow would hold such things against someone, presumably forfeiting who the person is in favour of some delusional fantasy that they’ve constructed for themselves.

The night unfolded painlessly, I had fun, Kick-ass was a great way to waste a few hours and we exchanged an awkward hug/kiss in the car before I went home.

Hell, I really could not have seen it coming.

I think it was around date number three where it started to infect me. The potential for us became much more obvious. Because by this point, we had exchanged constant text messages feeling each other out, she implied she was a monogamous person and interested in pursuing a long term relationship. Questions were asked about if I was able to re-locate to another city in the event she changed jobs, how many children I wanted, what shape my finances were in.. I bought it all hook, line and sinker thinking it meant she was smitten with me.

And this is the price I am paying for being so naive.

Because while we shared the most incredible chemistry I have ever experienced with another person in the first few weeks - it all came crashing down after I had failed her “friends” test. You know the one. Where you meet her friends and she watches to see how well you get along with them.

The day after this happened, I got a phone call from her suggesting that we should break up.

My mind was blown. BREAK UP?! After this incredible sex, chemistry, communication, etc? None of that matters because I couldn’t get along with your friends?

Let me draw out the situation. Lauren’s “friends” are head-in-the-sand, disrespectful, egotistical and unpleasant people to be around. From the moment I walked through the door of their apartment, I was not given any introductions, had my hand shaken or welcomed inside. That doesn't mean it was all about "me", it only pointed out the level of courtesy they were capable of giving.

A subsequent BBQ party involving those two and three others ended up proving me right, as they collectively sucked up oxygen rendering most everyone else mute. I felt embarrassed for the three other people there who were forced to listen to an egotistical maniac describe how her mother picks up empty bottles on the side of roads. Who cares? That's not a party, it's a stage with one person hogging the spotlight at everyone else's expense.

It was such a horrible experience. Ever had someone blab at you without pause, not caring what you think or wanting anything more than an excuse to put their fat egos on display? This was that, but with THREE people involved. Non-stop chatter, just this sickening exhibition of verbal masturbation in which I was phased out of existence upon arrival.

And I failed the test because I wasn’t able to throw mindless random crap in response to what seemed like a flurry of non-sequiturs and ego stroking. There was little attempt on anyone’s part to become more involved or thoughtful about the topics being discussed. I have never seen three people so insecure with themselves that they formed a perfect synergy of psychic vampirism.

I mean, get this. You have the receptive audience (Lauren), you have the Queen (Tammy) and a dutiful servant (her husband Mike) all bouncing off the walls clamouring to fulfill such petty needs that I was starting to disassociate myself to keep from feeling ill.

I don’t claim to be this incredible psychologist who can pick apart situations with ease and reflect on it’s composition and the motivations involved, but I’m not an idiot either. I could see very clearly what each person was getting.

Tammy - An arena in which she can demonstrate her awesomeness
Lauren - The squire or handmaiden to this great, charming person
Mike - A cheering section in fear of losing his relevancy

And me, the only guy in the room that would have liked to spend just two minutes on a topic without having it derailed in favour of something more gratifying to the egos involved.

But, I realized afterwards, that it wasn’t a test that could be passed. There is no living being on this planet (aside from the Elephant Man and maybe Stephen Hawking) who could have taken attention away from the ego tripping and steer it towards the realm of normal conversation between people who respected and were interested in learning about each other.

So, by holding my tongue, I failed this “test” and that was when momentum shifted. It went from amazing relationship to the threat of no relationship and because I didn’t want to let go of this incredible thing we had going - I sucked it up and gave my best anti-breakup speech. I was honest, expressive, stifled back tears which I eventually failed at - but remained humble, and I’m still proud of how I conducted myself during that moment.

And it worked. We were back on. One month under the belt, two more to go.

.. This is a really long story.

Points of contention began to emerge from here on out. One issue in particular was the idea of being able to “hang out” with male “friends, irregardless of their martial status and without my being invited.

The idea was that I had to “trust” her. This was just a few weeks after the first breakup attempt and I was still smarting from it.

No fucking way was I going to put up with that. I threatened to leave if she wouldn’t compromise, I was already going along with it until driving home my emotions got the best of me and I texted saying that I loved her. I felt like I had nothing to lose or gain in saying that and it was something I was happy with keeping to myself until the right moment came along.

What a big fucking mistake. We got back together, but now she knew how I felt and didn’t feel obligated to say that she loved me back. At least not right away.

That was month two. The downward spiral commenced. I withdrew, became guarded, lost sight of my other commitments and friends. The relationship soon turned into a project, an idea for me to work on, to improve and to salvage.

In short, it became work. And work fucking sucks when one person is sitting on their ass calling all the shots while you sweat and break your back trying to keep everything together and making the best of the situation.

Another thorn in my side was her being a single mom. Yes, BAGGAGE. I hadn’t gone into the relationship thinking that it was an important thing to be wary of, but I was gullible and ended up fooling myself.

Because I was already good with kids, I figured that would be the only issue I would have to deal with. Not so, as babysitting was a bitch to come by and 90% of the time we spent together could only be at her place. There wasn’t any room for my usual spontaneity, or opening ourselves up to more experiences and situations where we could better understand and learn about each other.

90% of the time was at her place, and I started wondering why am I even here? For sex? Companionship? Conversation? She had never really explained why she enjoyed my company.

I think I was just a way to pass time.

Then.. down the line, she admitted she loved me. But it turned out to be a red herring because you don’t treat people you love, the way she treated me. When you say words like that, you are supposed to mean them. You don’t send a wimpy half-assed declaration in the form of a text message bereft of emotion and sincerity. You don’t start saying shit like “being selfish has always worked for me, why change?”, or “monogamy is such a struggle.”

you know what? I am sick of writing about all this. I am actually feeling nauseous reliving these moments. “I want to be the girlfriend you need and deserve.” right, I believe it. She was a lonely person that dangled carrots in my face. She lied, she was hypocritical, made harsh judgements, assumptions, availed herself of effort in making things work and was a cruel, manipulative and confused human being. In the final stages, I was a puppet being dangled about to do her bidding.

The worst part was being given hope. “I want to be the girlfriend you need and deserve”. And not actually bothering to, y’know, DO something about it. Make an effort. Anything. Just don’t expect me to cater to your whims while you sit back with a smug expression on your face knowing that I’m eating out of the palm of your hand.

Never again.

I learned something very important from all of this.

And that is to be true to yourself. ALWAYS. Always put your needs ahead of anyone else’s because its YOU that matters the most. It’s YOU that has to live with your decisions, your successes, your calamities and fallacies and whatever. They go with you from the cradle to the grave.

We all die alone.

Love is a mutual thing. There should not be any dependency involved. It should not be teased about or taken lightly. It should be giving, forgiving, caring, honest, trusting, appreciating, encouraging... It’s should be about bringing out the best in each other and overlooking their weak points. But at the very least, love is an effort. It is not effortless, no matter how you slice it. This applies to love-struck teenagers as well as the couple celebrating fifty years of marriage and toasting colostomy bags together. Love is about making compromises and being sympathetic to the needs and feelings of your partner. It is not about one person being waited on hand and foot.

I just hate what she turned me into. Putting me on the defensive, getting me frustrated, not being able to be who I am and calling all the shots. Excuses pulled out of thin air that contradicts things that were said earlier on. “I love yous” said with a straight face and holding empty promises. No desire to change or accommodate my needs or to prove herself worthy of my attention.

There was trouble the moment I started asking, “what about my needs?”

“YOUR needs?” .... Point taken.

I had enough of giving.

It was bullshit. It was betrayal. Hypocrisy on a scale that I am deeply repulsed and still frightened by.

The worst part was hearing her reasons for why we aren’t right for each other.

“You aren’t smart enough for me”
“You aren’t ambitious enough for me”
“You aren’t sociable enough for me”

It was always about her. Her needs. Her wants. None of mine. It was irrelevant that none of her issues applied because she was too lazy to discover the side of myself that would have proven her wrong. Leaps of logic. Fantastic conclusions and the hypocritical mention of, “I don’t make assumptions.” early on in our relationship paired up with these ridiculous statements.

I was somewhat tempted to show her my bank statement, my book, my proof that everything she said was unfounded, luckily I resisted.

I’ll never fall into this trap again. Not until I am SURE. Absolutely certain that the girl I am with, is one that is willing to deliver the level of honesty and openness I crave. Someone who has proven herself trustworthy.

That she will not treat me as a source of amusement, or as a wallet, or judge me by criteria that carries little relevance in what I consider a successful relationship to be rooted upon.

That she will not come in all wide-eyed and excited, telling me what I want to hear only to recant later on.

It is the oldest trick in the book. Spot their weaknesses and snare them by any means necessary. I should not have given myself up to her the way I did. At least not so soon, but it felt like I didn’t a choice once she pushed for that first breakup.

I failed myself.

.. And yet I still fucking love her.

I think about her everyday.

It’s not so much the person she is that I’m in love with, but rather, the person she could have been. The couple we could have been. The promise. The potential.

“I don’t think you are smart enough for me”

Unbelievable.

I should have answered, “Good. Because you’re not skinny enough for me. Your stretch marks are gross and I don't find your rolls of fat attractive in the least.” But I refused to step down to her level of retardation. Pointing out the holes in her reasoning was a waste of time. I should not have to hold someone’s hand and explain how no one is perfect, that it is our flaws which make us endearing. And that yes, love IS enough. Some people honestly cannot separate the things they need from what they want.

Whatever, life goes on. I can rebuild myself. I’m still willing to trust and love someone without feeling guarded and reserved about it.

I know I’m a good person.

I deserve to be loved.

(cue violins)

Someday I will.