Memories of innocence

Ever since then I’ve wanted to experience that feeling all over again, that feeling of being complete. I thought I had it with Ashley, and for a while, I did. Then, for the longest time now, I haven’t.

Okay, this is going to be something.
Actually, no, let’s just jump right the fuck in, no dancing around the topic, no farting around, we’re doing this shit and DAMNED BE THE CONSEQUENCES!
We’re talking love, romance, flirting, and all things I find to be either incredibly easy, or just down right hard depending on how long I hesitate before actually speaking and that just causes a cascade effect where the thoughts just fucking flip out on me like,
“Hey, you’re actually kind of-“
“LOOK AT THE PENGUIN!”
At that level.
I’m not sure th reason for the hesitancy, I know for certain that it feels like the words are there, but my mouth won’t form the words.
Or maybe it’s something simpler:
Fear of rejection.
If rejected twice already, then the probability of being rejected a third time is pretty high, or maybe on a subconscious level I’m reading the social cues being put out.
Or maybe it’s the cues I think are happening but in reality it’s not.
All I can know for sure is that it’s really hard guessing intention just based on eyes, and eyebrows alone.
Which SUUUUUUCKS.
But, at the same time, affords some practice in noticing the details.
Kind of.
black women are absolutely stunning to me for some reason, maybe it’s just that I’m looking for a change of pace, or maybe dating someone outside my skin tone of splotchy peach mixed with sunburnt tomato has been appealing to me for the longest time?
I dunno why it is.

I guess my earliest exposure to the idea of dating a black gal (This is normal thinking for me on the regular. Sometimes you just have to let it out.) was back in middle school, back in San Jose, not middle school, High School?
Yeah, high School.

Okay, so there was this bomb ass BBQ place just smack dab between my house and Oak Grove high School, no… wait, Davis Minor Intermediate School… Was it OGHS? Hard to recall specific details.
Anyways, this place was AMAZING, it was Black owned (do I capitalize Black? Do I not? well, no squiggly red line, so I guess so.) run by this elderly dude… What was his name!?
Gus? Stanley? Pete? Paul? Robert? Dan? David? It was probably Gus… We’re going with Gus.
So, Gus was similar height to Nigel, but the dude was fucking stacked, try to imagine four body builders sharing one of those full one body suits at the same time, and you’ve got Gus.
Anyways, Gus made THE BEST FUCKING RIBS imaginable.
He also had a daughter, named Bridgette, I was… what, 5’9 in middle school? So she was a few inches shorter then me.
But, my bois, my awesome lads?
She was gorgeous, I imagine she still is to this day. Wish I had kept up with her.
Anyways, she had this wild hair that wouldn’t stay combed down, so she just let it do its own thing, and it was a unique experience to watch what it decided to do from the day to day.
Coil factor on a scale of one to ten?
Between a 3 to 4. There was a bit of a twist to it, but for the most part, it looked like it was always going after a few birds.
Skin tone? Best way to describe it… Her tone was as if a glass of chocolate milk were made with a mix ratio of 40% chocolate syrup, with a dash of caramel.
Her eyes a really deep brown, almost black. Her irises had a ring of grey right around the pupil, which I was always curious about, never got around to asking.
Her build was average, nothing too fancy.
She was kind of dorky, which I had a thing for back then, so it fit pretty well.

Anyways, almost everyday, after school I’d walk her back to the store (I think it was high school… Not sure of the year, BUT I do remember that it was during the either Fall or Spring.) and we’d just talk about random things, I had no clue about flirting back then, I was just friends with someone.

So, whenever dances came around, I’d always go by myself since I could never really get up the courage to ask someone to go with me, so it was just a common thing for me to go to the school dances by myself and just do my own thing.
It became something of offline meme.
This one dance those, winter formal, I did the same thing, and Bridgette was at the dance as well.
It was during one of the slower dances that a group of her friends asked me to dance with her, and I said sure, why not?
She was wearing a pink dress, not too puffy shoulders, her hair was still wild, but she had it in a pony tail which worked in her favor.
Can’t remember the perfume, but I remember the scent perfectly, it was sweet, sugary, tropical, with a hint of Lilac and rose. It was amazing!
So, I ended up dancing with her the rest of the night, it was almost like I felt this pull towards her.
During…. what was the song playing at the time!? DAMN IT.
Boyz to Men, I can never remember the song…there was this one line, “I’ll be there for you”
But she pulled me in close, and rested her head on my shoulder and I remember feeling her heartbeat against my chest.
I didn’t think about it for the longest time, but looking back, knowing what I know now, I must have made her night. Even when the music stopped, we just kept on dancing, every once in a while she’d look into my eyes, just simply smiling, she had a gorgeous smile, it completely lit up the room.
Her eyes were bright, scary bright, as if they weren’t even real, but I felt her warmth, there was mass, weight, presence!
She must’ve been the happiest girl at the dance, because she didn’t let go of me for a full three seconds after I had of her to get to the bathroom, kind of funny.

Ever since then I’ve wanted to experience that feeling all over again, that feeling of being complete. I thought I had it with Ashley, and for a while, I did. Then, for the longest time now, I haven’t.

It’s not something common, like I look into a gals eyes and just instantly fall for them, there has to be a real connection in order for me to get worked up about a gal. A visceral and thorough understanding and almost magnetic pull towards her that subconsciously drives me towards her, as if the warmth of a campfire were just underneath my heart whenever she’s around!
There has to be a look in her eyes, that one look. Not something that screams “Fuck me”, but it’s the subtelest of tells, something that I can only pick up on if she’s close enough to where I can see the iris pattern.
A look in her eyes that silently asks, “If we could be together, would you want to?”
That “If” part. The almighty heartbreaking hypothetical question.
It’s her way of letting me know that “yeah, there’s interest, but you’ve got to meet me halfway. you’ve got to let me know what’s going on at your end, what are you looking for? Will you let me know? I might not be available now, but I will be eventually, so please remember this moment.”
That’s the look that snags my attention, that’s the look that strikes a chord on the strings of my heart.
For that woman, I’d gladly face a thousand armies, I’d conquer any obstacle I could to make her happy.

If there’s one thing I’ll never regret, it’s dancing with Bridgette and seeing those beautiful brown eyes with the ring of grey, how they shown so bright, even in the darkness of that gym and the occasional flash of the DJ’s lighting rig.
That look is universal.
So, single women, if you catch me looking into your eyes, just know I’m reading your irises, trying to find that one specific look, the slight growth in your pupil, the way the light dances off the lens, the flare of silver on the outer edges.
Love is love, regardless of the situations we find ourselves, and though societal norms may prevent us from acting upon the natural subconscious impulses we’ve learned to tame, just know it’s alright, whatever situation you’re in, everything will work itself out eventually.

Getting my attention is easy, keeping it is easy, but firing up the kiln of my creativity? That’s extremely hard, and keeping those fires lit, even if indirectly? Damn near impossible.
After all, all you have to do is reach out, and I’ll be there.

Those eyes, how they do hypnotize.

Looking into them, see how they spark
Like getting lost in a hurricane of feeling
Love, loss, joy, confusion, happiness, apathy, lust
Overbounding with love like instant sparks
A flare of joy rocketing into the sky

There comes a point where coffee tastes bad.

This has nothing to do with that, but it has something to do with taste.
Let’s get something out of the way here, I’ve not had sex in nearly two years.
Yes, this might be the thing we’re talking about here, my lack of penis in vagina activity.
Nope, no regrets.
I’m not going to go off, fuck it, yes I am, because in my self love journey, I’ve been to some strange as fuck place, and… I dunno how I feel about the whole thing.
The sex part, when I was having it regularly, was amazing? I dunno. I only ever finished once, and that took an amazing amount of time, and a lot of focus.
Yes, I’m an easily distracted sex machine.
No, you can’t plug your phone in my ass to charge it.
Yes, I’m very well aware that’s a kind of fetish.
No, I do no want to receive “The Power of Zues” through my ass.
No, I’m not into that kind of thing.
Look, point being, I need to get laid, but in this day and age where any attempt to either get some or get love is a frightening ordeal, because, at any point point, either you or that one super bitchy girlfriend of yours can just up and claim I’m harassing you. The very moment I detect something off, that’s it, I’m cutting myself off from talking to you, and will only engage if absolutely needed.
Now, I know how to treat women with respect, I know how to behave myself, and would much rather things develop organically as opposed to, “Well, time to fuck and see what happens.” Being a guy now a days is… to be honest, a confusing experience in everyway possible.

The basis of the Metoo movement is to make sexual assaulters pay dearly for their crimes against whatever gender their creepy little mitts are wriggling towards. That’s it, and then for a long while, it seemed like every guy was fair game, and men bounded through the tall grass like majestic walruses, “OORPH”ing their way towards a better and brighter future, only to be stopped in t heir tracks by a false claim of grabbin’ some boob.
And trust me, I get it, I truly do, Y’all have put up with enough of guys weird bullshit from the dawn of time, and the damn finally burst, and men were like, “Oh…. Well fuck.”
Now that the tables have turned, so is the dating scene steps, where it’s usually the women who have to initiate Ye Ol’ Dating Ritual.

Which, hey, more power to you.
It’s just a terrifying, scary, nightmarish, and dick shriveling level of anxiety that gets built up into the core of men’s souls wondering whether or not they should go ahead and make a move on Susie Sunshine or be left in the cold icy grip of the Night King, otherwise known as whacking off.
And let’s talk about that for a second, really. Because now there’s a law in Texas, about to pass, that states that men are legally not allowed to whack off, on the premise that it’s killing unconceived children. So, our physiological need to expel built up waste is now under attack in Texas.
Because, really, that’s all that is if it’s not being used to make babies, waste.  Like, really?

I get it, the reproductive rights of women in terms of abortion has been a hotbed of WTF for a long time, with them main question of the debate being, “When does life begin? At the moment of conception, or the moment of birth?”

Well, my answer is this: Until the heart fully develops and starts pumping and the brain develops to the point where the growth stops being a growth and starts being a little human, that exact moment is when life begins. Of course, I have no authority over what women do with their bodies, I can only give my thoughts on the matter and leave it at that.

Anyways, getting back to what I was talking about, dating…. Actually, it’s around 2:27 and I’ve got to get ready for the day.

Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve written a proper blog…

Although, what the hell is a proper blog post? Is it a collection of like minded thoughts?
Because, you know, if that’s the case, than I am properly fucked. I don’t think I’ve ever had a series of like minded thoughts, just a bunch of confused bullshit that people are like, “HA! Shweet.”
And you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m fine with being in a world in which my channel flippy brain gets confuzzled halfway through a thought and decides that buttercream screaming butterflies are the perfect valentines day gift, for the person you REALLY fucking hate.
And, you know, I’m not blind to my underuse of exclamation points, really!

Today I want to talk about love. And Workplaces.
And amazon.
And the holy shit storm of why either their a good thing or a bad thing, or maybe I’ll just continually switch topics, because I’m a rebellious bastard and you love me for that.
“Today, we’re talking puppies and the monster trucks who love them. Way too much.”
Yeah, so strap in for some enlightened as fuck shit, because this god damned thing is filled to the brim with swearing and clown beastiality referees. I meant to write that.

Yesterday, we got put in 5S, and me being me, I began to draw, something I do to pass the time. One of my friends then asked me a bunch of questions, some personal, others not, most I can’t remember, but she was cool.
Then my other friend, Karen, Who I think might have a crush on me? I don’t like to assume anything anymore, I just leave it up to the winds of chance and whatever seems to be going on that day to figure shit out, also talked to me about my drawing, and we got to talking for a while, and it was a pretty good conversation, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, and you fucking hate the fact I’m not giving you the deets!
Well, I can’t remember the deets, so we’re pretty much in the same boat here.

Anyways, i leave to go to the bathroom, come back, and I get snagged into Water Spidering, which is indirect work, but still critical, for Prep… And for about 40% I would say, I knocked things out of the park, I kept tote lines going, swept, moved pallets and cages, just in general, was an amazing beast of burden. Or unburdening, that’s like an Anti-Donkeh, right?

There was this one woman, really tiny, like, ridiculously small, looks almost like a kid, but she isn’t. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s got an amazing smile, which, hey, bonus points for getting her to smile! Anyways, she’s a sweet person, much luck to her in whatever she chooses to do in life.

Meanwhile, i’m apartment hunting, I’ve got my eyes set on a place or two, as well as the bedding needed to make sure I conserve as much space as possible, and was kind of blown away by the fact there’s a triple bunk bed, like, holy shit people! A triple bunk bed! that’s like witnessing a majestic Unicorn horn fuck a leperchaun right through the face, while the little fuckers barfing gold bars! I mean, yeah, it’s a bunk bed, but a fucking triple!?

Jesus fucking christ.

Oh, I also made my first communion.
Every once in a while I’ll still upload a video or two, but I haven’t been as interested in it. Growing my channel has become annoying as fuck, and I just decided, fuck it, not going to bother. I are there people who’ll enjoy my stuff? Maybe, I’ll never know.. I get just a bit depressed thinking about it, too many trolls, or algorithms or whatever, or maybe I just upload bad content, fuck if I know or care anymore. While there are peeps out there, my hearts just not in it anymore. That’s the long and short of it now a days. My hearts not in making vids anymore, and it’s not making me any money, so why should I bother?

Yeah, there was for the enjoyment of it, but constant criticism about the whole thing has whittled away at my enthusiasm for it, and until I get my own place, I don’t think I’ll be able to really get back into it. Things change over time, needs change,

Women… Phhh

First off, y’all… are strange as fuck.
And, here’s why that’s a good thing.
you are innovators.
you are geniuses.
you are teachers.
You are muses.
you are inspiration.
You are literally the engine that keeps humanity going, and yes, talking about crotch stuff. Well, belly… you know what I’m talking about. TALKIN’ BOUT EJECTING A TINY HUMAN FROM CROTCH HOLE AFTER FUN FUN TIME!
Men are just as insecure about mating as women are about men being insecure about mating.
Here’s the thing, and fun with girl logic memes:
A gal, hanging around with some guy friends, in some cases, has to claim she has a boyfriend, (I said in SOME cases) so that any potential annoying flirts will be knocked away, like a fluffy cat, batting at a piece of string. The string of hope, it dangles. Like old man balls. Bat, fluffy cat, bat.
Getting off track, I honestly have no fucking clue where I was going with this, needless to say, it’s hard for me to transition from friend to boyfriend, because then I get caught up in what’s allowed versus not allowed because then it’s a whole new ballgame, and I’d rather meet someone new with the sole intention of getting with them, and while the friends first thing works out a ton, it just confuses the fuck out of me, because if things don’t work out, and I’m sending you the “go ahead” signal, but you don’t send it back, wtf does the mean?
Try harder?
Stop trying?
Eat at Joe’s?
Where the fuck is Joe’s?
What do they serve?
Are there annoying yelp reviews that I can make fun of?
Most importantly, with women, in this day and age, dating is fucking terrifying, because ya don’t know how the gal is going to react, what the hell is going through her head, and more importantly, what the percentage of success you’re going to have is, I’m not talking how often is it going to end up in sex, I’m simply talking getting to the next date and so on and so forth, especially with the ingrained perception that YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST THIS MUCH TO EVEN QUALIFY FOR A DATE!
And even then, it’s a fucking mystery as to which women will reply to what messages in what style and that’s another set of SHERLOCK BOOKS THAT TAKES YEARS TO GET THROUGH and the whole time you’re thinking to yourself, ‘The fuck. Could be at home watching porn!’
But nooooooo!
That’s always the wrong answer, porn is never the right answer, unless the question being asked is “How many feathers can I get away with?”
But now you’re just focusing on the feathers instead of the date and that’s how you wind up ordering the Chicken when you REALLY just wanted the steak!

See!?
See what I mean!?
Now I want more chicken.
So, in short, dating is fucking terrifying, I want more chicken, and women are the perpetual motion machines of humanity, because you help slap the stupid out of men. Also, my cat has a furry monoboob… need to get that thing checked out.

I can’t stop the tears…

I’m so tired of it all… So tired of the chase, the constant failure. The level of growing regret, so tired of it… I’m sick of choosing the harder path because of some stupid morale code that tells me the harder way is better, and why is that? Why is the harder way better? Through hard work comes regard? Spare me… spare the stupid rhetoric. spare the mercy or the pity, I’m jut so damned tired. worst of all, I can’t stop the tears that never flow… I wish for the love of god that I could cheer myself up right now, that I could just snap out of it.

I had a great date tonight with my long time friend. I’ve always held an interest for her, something in which the end goal might be unattainable or near impossible to accomplish, but that again, this is nothing new to me. I’m used to this kind of thing. but than again, being 22 years old, she has more important things to worry about that my hurt feelings. Because I’m afraid to speak my mind, to let her know that sometimes she says stuff that’s mind numbing and stupid. I can only respond in weird ways that would make her laugh. I can’t stop the tears that never come. And they never do, just something I’ve gotten used to… I work so hard, and for so long without a girlfriend, without a relationship, constantly tell myself that they aren’t worth the time or distraction… And here I am, perusing yet another unattainable goal. I have no fucking clue how close or far away I am to boyfriend status, and it’s getting to the point where I’d rather just say fuck this bullshit and be alone for the rest of my life.

Than again, its just my panic response, that if I have a good thing, soon to follow must be a bad thing to even it out and reset the madness…

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