I'm yet back to where I started...with Dexter. It's once again time to reinvent myself. My former model was a success at finding love, but not keeping it. So,I must now re-evaluate what was wrong with me that drove "him" away. Emotionally, I am aware of what changes need to occur. The whole 'selfish' thing is being taken care of. Other than that, I suppose my physical statement was not bold or impressive enough. So, that's what I can change.
Another damn diet.
More Work-outs.
More Self Doubt.
I'm so fucked up now. I can't even trust my own judgments that I pass upon myself. It used to be that I was always able to see beyond the bullshit and hype and decide what was truly best for myself. You really did a number on me, kid. I'm stuck where you left me. So many questions remain unanswered. My sex drive is nonexistent. I'm nearly incapable of becoming aroused, emotionally or physically (Not that I'm short of opportunities) I suppose that my body is still tuned to your frequency.
What's left is a scattered and broken individual searching for the cure to some foreign illness that has befallen him.
I have to find a new hobby since you were the last one. What shall occupy my thoughts...what future am I now working towards? The one before you, right? pbbt. That one was always laced with finding you. I don't want another face in the frame in the foyer.
My ramblings sicken me.
Of course you're doing fine. Of course you're moving on. Your friends and family reassuring you that you've made the right choice. No doubt you've begun to regain speed towards brilliance whilst I lag and drag across the road praying for some external force to rid me of the misery that has become my life. Anger is pitiful and ineffective. You're still so beautiful, displaying it for the world. Soon the wolves will come to claim what is now without companionship. You're a prize worthy of a fight, but I fear that you will not accept me as champion. I have already deemed you as the unreachable. The same way that I did before meeting you. You were a blip of peace, a glimps of joy, and swift peak at what dreams felt like in the waking realm. I've moved much past forgiveness and into shame. Why wasn't I IT for you? What man walks the Earth destined to hold your heart for eternity? Where do I fall short in such a manner to rid me of your affection?
Words.
They're all words.
Pretty and soft, but useless in the battle that I'd have to fight to regain the honor of being in your life. Distance will forever be our greatest enemy. Though physical at first, it's hold has grown deeper, striking hard in our hearts dealing a blow more mighty than I could have ever expected.
Should you move on, I will have no choice but to smile and accept the path that has been laid. Know that you are it for me.
The things I'd give to spend one more summer eve with you...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Alter ego madness!
This weekend my fraternity brothers and I all went down to Missouri State to show some love to the newly developed TKE down there. It was a kick ass time. Their guy to girl ratio is so much different than what it is here at Valley so I was never short of people to flirt with. The best part of the night was the pact that was made in the car on the way down to the parties between me, Monty, Painter, Roger and Trenton. We all decided to create personas and hit the party as new people. Monty, Trenton and Roger ended up backing out, stalking around the party as their lame selves. PAINTER AND I, on the other hand, adhered to the plan.
I was Liam, a British foreign exchange soccer player who had just recently been dumped by his gymnast, commie bitch of a girlfriend. Painter was Miguel, a UK born Venezuelan raised immigrant sent to rid American girls from their moral barricades. The two men were well received by all of the women and men at the party, starting conversations and random dance-offs everywhere. Miguel soon honed his sights to a pretty blond in the corner and commenced to verbally manipulating her with the few Spanish phrases that he could muster. Liam charged the crowd with being boring and demanded sacrifices of women and kisses. He was paid. The women melted with the chance to kiss a heart broken GB gentleman. As the night continued Liam drifted outside to further his exploits with his fellow TKE brothers from MO state.
One guy in particular, "Jason" we shall call him, was more than impressed with my persona as his dream in life is to move to England and play football (American Soccer). Liam and him became the best of friends, double taking the hotness that crawled the dance floor and double teaming those individuals with an array of flashy hand gestures and pelvic super thrusts. As the party began it's downward slope, Liam found himself caught in conversation with Jason and was left by the hoard. He ended back at Jason's house. On the other side of campus, Miguel was scoring left and right with the blond from the party and her roommates. Back at their apartment he proceeded to lay some Spanish tube steak on the table and my my were the ladies hungry.
Back at Jasons, I was berated with a plethora of question about Liams hometown and soccer, of which I completely bullshitted. After about 2 hours of conversation, I was stuck in the alto ego that I soon realized was becoming cooler than my actual self. Liam was a God to this kid. My phone was dead and I was unfamiliar with the town so aborting the situation was out of the question. I'd have to fight through the night until I could meet back up with my brothers. Jason is a cute guy, black hair, blue eyes and an okay body, why I'd never noticed before this time is unknown to me...ah, yes, the 12 beers and countless shots could be a factor in my inability to distinguish prince from ghoul. I had become bored with past history and more interested in how far Liam could push this kid. I steered the conversation to sex. American sex vs. English sex. I made the comment that bi-sexuality isn't as uncommon and frowned upon in British men as it is to American Men. Liam confesssed the he had engaged in gay sex once with a good bloke of his and it was good sex and a good time with a friend. Jason was a little nervous to tread further, but did anyway. Liam asked him if he had ever kissed another guy before to which Jason quickly said "no". Liam smiles and asks "would you like to?" Jason smiles and flashes red. "I don't know, man." "Oh, it's all good man, I understand that it's just weird to American dudes to show affection." Jason smiles again, takes a look around, get's up and locks his door. A single kiss. He pulls back and laughs. I lean in, grabbing the back of his head and kiss him again. He introduces a little tongue. The kiss is over.
Liam. Is. A. God.
I head back up stairs to sleep after a few more moments of conversing with "Jason". I slip out in the early morning, meeting back up with Painter a.k.a. "Miguel". We swap crazy ass stories and decide to bury Liam and Miguel for good.
Ahhhh, life.
I was Liam, a British foreign exchange soccer player who had just recently been dumped by his gymnast, commie bitch of a girlfriend. Painter was Miguel, a UK born Venezuelan raised immigrant sent to rid American girls from their moral barricades. The two men were well received by all of the women and men at the party, starting conversations and random dance-offs everywhere. Miguel soon honed his sights to a pretty blond in the corner and commenced to verbally manipulating her with the few Spanish phrases that he could muster. Liam charged the crowd with being boring and demanded sacrifices of women and kisses. He was paid. The women melted with the chance to kiss a heart broken GB gentleman. As the night continued Liam drifted outside to further his exploits with his fellow TKE brothers from MO state.
One guy in particular, "Jason" we shall call him, was more than impressed with my persona as his dream in life is to move to England and play football (American Soccer). Liam and him became the best of friends, double taking the hotness that crawled the dance floor and double teaming those individuals with an array of flashy hand gestures and pelvic super thrusts. As the party began it's downward slope, Liam found himself caught in conversation with Jason and was left by the hoard. He ended back at Jason's house. On the other side of campus, Miguel was scoring left and right with the blond from the party and her roommates. Back at their apartment he proceeded to lay some Spanish tube steak on the table and my my were the ladies hungry.
Back at Jasons, I was berated with a plethora of question about Liams hometown and soccer, of which I completely bullshitted. After about 2 hours of conversation, I was stuck in the alto ego that I soon realized was becoming cooler than my actual self. Liam was a God to this kid. My phone was dead and I was unfamiliar with the town so aborting the situation was out of the question. I'd have to fight through the night until I could meet back up with my brothers. Jason is a cute guy, black hair, blue eyes and an okay body, why I'd never noticed before this time is unknown to me...ah, yes, the 12 beers and countless shots could be a factor in my inability to distinguish prince from ghoul. I had become bored with past history and more interested in how far Liam could push this kid. I steered the conversation to sex. American sex vs. English sex. I made the comment that bi-sexuality isn't as uncommon and frowned upon in British men as it is to American Men. Liam confesssed the he had engaged in gay sex once with a good bloke of his and it was good sex and a good time with a friend. Jason was a little nervous to tread further, but did anyway. Liam asked him if he had ever kissed another guy before to which Jason quickly said "no". Liam smiles and asks "would you like to?" Jason smiles and flashes red. "I don't know, man." "Oh, it's all good man, I understand that it's just weird to American dudes to show affection." Jason smiles again, takes a look around, get's up and locks his door. A single kiss. He pulls back and laughs. I lean in, grabbing the back of his head and kiss him again. He introduces a little tongue. The kiss is over.
Liam. Is. A. God.
I head back up stairs to sleep after a few more moments of conversing with "Jason". I slip out in the early morning, meeting back up with Painter a.k.a. "Miguel". We swap crazy ass stories and decide to bury Liam and Miguel for good.
Ahhhh, life.
Wrestlemania
Last night was Wrestlemania XXVI and it was everything that I wanted it to be. All of my friends poured into my dorm room where we ordered the event on my gorgeous 25.5 inch computer. A lot of us made bad ass puff paint Wrestlemania Tees, of which some now will be burned since they made some very bold accusations as to the outcome of the main event with The Taker wand HBK. The matches were strong and suspenseful and running over with wall-to-wall action. The Undertaker vs. The Heart Break Kid, Shawn Michaels was AMAZING! The Undertaker, of course, went 18-0 defeating HBK, ending his carreer. It was a beautiful right after the match ended where Shawn stood in the middle of the ring to give a final farewell to his adoring public. He will most definitely be missed. Good People, enjoying America's coolest pastime.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
New York
My City of Blinding lights. I yearn to conquer your concrete jungle. To become one of your victims, completely submitting myself to your whims of activism, fashion, and love.
It is here that the roots of my future will be planted. Firm beneath the hot watts and wet street sides I will take home.
Here I shall fight my way into the working class, earning proper citizenship.
It is in your cold and perfumed stained breath that I will relax and feel at ease. I will set my youth aflame in the fires of your nightlife, meeting individual after individual. I will learn from your children and give you lessons of passions as well.
Here I am, I can give you anything. Here I stand, I can't turn away. Here I am, don't want to cause you pain. Here I stand, learning on my own again.
Jake.
I was, admittedly, a little opposed to posting anything about our break-up, but after some time (app. 2 days) to think, I've decided to let this post be the last mention of you.
You have a lot of nerve. I'm so confused yet impressed at your ability to victimize yourself in this ordeal.
We had a rough week, arguing quite a bit and becoming annoyed with one another. I agree that the week lifted a veil that lust had draped and what was left was two very raw individuals. I was unimpressed with my actions and a little take back by the actuality that replaced the individual I had been sleeping with. But regardless of the changes, I was still in love. I still meant those words, I still saw you in my future, you were still the man standing at the end of the tunnel. I was changing for you, becoming a man worthy of your attention and affection.
Dexter, by nature, is a fighter. When it comes to things that I want or need, I'm relentlessly aggressive in order to assure permanence. I have a limitless abundance of optimism, focusing on what is possible rather than what is.
Jacob, by nature, is not. You were not happy. You were not willing to take in my world, you were not willing to fight for the relationship despite it's downfalls and revelations. You were not optimistic, you were a dramatic fallacy of love. You spoke the words, but gave them in hollow. You were not a man. You were a boy, bent on the fireworks of my heart. Well, you have them. I've burst into a brilliant display of sadness, self-doubt and regret.
You are a valuable lesson. I thank you. But do not be mistaken, fuck you. I will never look upon you again with anything more than distaste and bitterness.
The good of our relationship outweighed our negatives 6 to 1. I did the research, I wrote it out.
You were unwilling.
You were tired.
You are a coward.
You are a thief.
You do, however, deserve someone like you. So here's to a man that will look past your passive personality, you're pointless arguments, you're negative outlook on everything. Here's to the man that will be able to tame your mood swings, shape your ego. Congrats to the champion that I failed to be.
I am at fault, of course.
I don't own a car to visit you. Is that where my contributions should have lay? Is that all that was required to make this relationship "two-sided"? Throw more at me than miles and gas. I measured your loved in the way you looked at me, the way you squeezed my had, the way that your breathing settled when you laid your head on my chest...
No matter...
I can't wait until you're just a bad memory and a good lesson learned.
You have a lot of nerve. I'm so confused yet impressed at your ability to victimize yourself in this ordeal.
We had a rough week, arguing quite a bit and becoming annoyed with one another. I agree that the week lifted a veil that lust had draped and what was left was two very raw individuals. I was unimpressed with my actions and a little take back by the actuality that replaced the individual I had been sleeping with. But regardless of the changes, I was still in love. I still meant those words, I still saw you in my future, you were still the man standing at the end of the tunnel. I was changing for you, becoming a man worthy of your attention and affection.
Dexter, by nature, is a fighter. When it comes to things that I want or need, I'm relentlessly aggressive in order to assure permanence. I have a limitless abundance of optimism, focusing on what is possible rather than what is.
Jacob, by nature, is not. You were not happy. You were not willing to take in my world, you were not willing to fight for the relationship despite it's downfalls and revelations. You were not optimistic, you were a dramatic fallacy of love. You spoke the words, but gave them in hollow. You were not a man. You were a boy, bent on the fireworks of my heart. Well, you have them. I've burst into a brilliant display of sadness, self-doubt and regret.
You are a valuable lesson. I thank you. But do not be mistaken, fuck you. I will never look upon you again with anything more than distaste and bitterness.
The good of our relationship outweighed our negatives 6 to 1. I did the research, I wrote it out.
You were unwilling.
You were tired.
You are a coward.
You are a thief.
You do, however, deserve someone like you. So here's to a man that will look past your passive personality, you're pointless arguments, you're negative outlook on everything. Here's to the man that will be able to tame your mood swings, shape your ego. Congrats to the champion that I failed to be.
I am at fault, of course.
I don't own a car to visit you. Is that where my contributions should have lay? Is that all that was required to make this relationship "two-sided"? Throw more at me than miles and gas. I measured your loved in the way you looked at me, the way you squeezed my had, the way that your breathing settled when you laid your head on my chest...
No matter...
I can't wait until you're just a bad memory and a good lesson learned.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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