The Fly Attends Confession
As some of you will remember, I spent some time with my friend, mentor, and surrogate big brother, Father Time. We discussed my post from a couple of days ago, the one that discussed my questionable level of physical attraction, and Father Time was convinced that I should post something to this effect:
I can't honestly say that Father Time's appraisal of the situation is spot on. I was not fishing for positive reinforcement. I blog what I feel like blogging, and that particular post came about not as an attempt to secure positive reinforcement, but because I was genuinely frustrated and angry with a particular situation that I'm facing right now. The last four months have been the most miserable four months of my life. They have been characterized by unemployment, unreasonable failure with the women I should have been able to trust the most, boredom, and frustration with life. Aside from my occasional afternoon spent comparing notes with Father Time, or the very occasional pint and pizza with M@, my main outlet is my blog. I don't like being the kind of blogger who wears his heart on his sleeve; I'd much rather be blogging about news and military strategies.
You play the hand you're dealt.
Father Time's right about one thing: I seem to have more to learn about women than I thought I did. I realize that, at their core, words are just words, but I had always figured that words coupled with deeds, on both sides of the fence, actually meant something. I thought that trust, honesty, and mutual emotional investment over a long period of time helped to create a bond that could endure pressure. I'm not that naive anymore, and while I retain the hope of reconciliation, I'm turning more cynical with each passing day.
If I've stepped on any toes in the process, I apologize. I appreciate the fact that many of you have chosen to carry me through thick and thin, through the good times and the bad; that's not lost on me. I may come off as closed-minded and slow to admit when I'm wrong; part of that is because I'm so rarely wrong, part of it is that my blog is my turf (and I'm eager to defend it), and part of it is that my personality necessitates that anyone attempting to sway me must do so very gingerly. Some are better than others at that last part.
I'm a fighter, and I have no choice but to believe that my life will, eventually, improve. For now, my life is characterized by more failures than successes, and I'm essentially powerless to change that. I feel expendable, inadequate, and impotent in every way but sexually. Only a six-legged, winged superhero of my superior intellect, tenacity, and emotional strength could survive such dire straits as I have found myslf in during these past four, miserable months.
So, enough about me. What have you got to confess? Mo-Licious, this should take you a while, so maybe you should start typing now.
Friends:
Today at Father Time's house, I drank Obsidian Stout - (a poor imitation of Guinness and at room temperature no less!) followed by confession. Father Time is an ordained minister in the Church of What's Happening Now. I confessed to him that the posting entitled _Special Announcement_ was a thinly disguised attempt at drawing positive reinforcement from my blogger friends. For this despicable action, I sincerely apologize, and am as contrite, ashamed, and humiliated as my personality permits.
My punishment is to attend Father Time's special remedial sessions for men in their 20's who don't have a clue about women. Hopefully, in a few months, I will have changed my ways and finally be the outstanding and highly desirable man God intended me to be. Worst case, I will be an alcoholic addicted to Guinness.
This post, though intended to be an apology of sorts, will _not_ refuse comments containing praise for my good intentions. Friends, I have seen the light!
Maybe.
I can't honestly say that Father Time's appraisal of the situation is spot on. I was not fishing for positive reinforcement. I blog what I feel like blogging, and that particular post came about not as an attempt to secure positive reinforcement, but because I was genuinely frustrated and angry with a particular situation that I'm facing right now. The last four months have been the most miserable four months of my life. They have been characterized by unemployment, unreasonable failure with the women I should have been able to trust the most, boredom, and frustration with life. Aside from my occasional afternoon spent comparing notes with Father Time, or the very occasional pint and pizza with M@, my main outlet is my blog. I don't like being the kind of blogger who wears his heart on his sleeve; I'd much rather be blogging about news and military strategies.
You play the hand you're dealt.
Father Time's right about one thing: I seem to have more to learn about women than I thought I did. I realize that, at their core, words are just words, but I had always figured that words coupled with deeds, on both sides of the fence, actually meant something. I thought that trust, honesty, and mutual emotional investment over a long period of time helped to create a bond that could endure pressure. I'm not that naive anymore, and while I retain the hope of reconciliation, I'm turning more cynical with each passing day.
If I've stepped on any toes in the process, I apologize. I appreciate the fact that many of you have chosen to carry me through thick and thin, through the good times and the bad; that's not lost on me. I may come off as closed-minded and slow to admit when I'm wrong; part of that is because I'm so rarely wrong, part of it is that my blog is my turf (and I'm eager to defend it), and part of it is that my personality necessitates that anyone attempting to sway me must do so very gingerly. Some are better than others at that last part.
I'm a fighter, and I have no choice but to believe that my life will, eventually, improve. For now, my life is characterized by more failures than successes, and I'm essentially powerless to change that. I feel expendable, inadequate, and impotent in every way but sexually. Only a six-legged, winged superhero of my superior intellect, tenacity, and emotional strength could survive such dire straits as I have found myslf in during these past four, miserable months.
So, enough about me. What have you got to confess? Mo-Licious, this should take you a while, so maybe you should start typing now.
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