Nasty Encounter

The story I am about to share actually happened. I hope I can convey it in such a way that you feel that you were there and were apart of it.

Time: 10:47 pm. Location: just out side of the Mariott Library, on the University of Utah campus.

I walk outside. It is bitter cold. I hear an odd angry type of 'ughhh' sound, but it had a woman's tone to it. I turn the corner and a couple comes into my sight. The girl is talking very fast. She keeps making the angry yelp sound. He says nothing, he just keeps looking down. They are far enough away that I don't really hear what is going on, and I try to keep my distance, cause she seems like she is ready to snap. Her arms are flailing all over the place. She finally yells, "Fine. I'll walk."  And she does. She storms off. The man snaps his head up and watches after her, like he was awakened from a dream by a bucket of ice water. She is cruising, and the dude just keeps looking at her. Doesn't call out to her or run after her. Just stares. He slowly takes out his phone as she is about 40 yards away and I makes a phone call.

By this time she is almost out of sight. He is still staring, with the phone up to his face. By this time, I have completely stopped and am staring. She turns back to look at him. I can't see her face, but her whole body has that 'REALLY? ARE YOU JOKING?' look to it. It's that angry little girl look.
She takes out her phone, with the screen shinning brightly - indicating an incoming call, answers it, and yells.

She said things that would not be deemed lady like. She hung the phone up, turned around, and went back to her walking gig. He watched until she was out of sight, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the library. By this time, I was like AWESOME!

Happy Valentine's Day.

Last V-day, I was.... what was I doing? Cant remember; pretty memorable day. This is the third post in a month, revolving around women and love. Sorry, its Februany, I got the love bug.

So, in order to make this V-day memorable, and in honor of this "give me a thoughtful 'I LOVE you' gift" day, I decided to kick it off right by watching the "Bachelor". What could show me, a cold hearted animal, what it feels like to be in love, better than a "non-scripted, reality" TV show. If you are a doubter, like I was, you need to watch it at least once in your life. I promise, you'll come away with more questions about love than answers. I really did enjoy it, mostly because of how authentic and organic it all feels. Nothing seems fake or planned, it really comes across natural and real.
NOTE: I had to keep my head from falling off of my neck.... I was rolling my eyes so hard.
I could go on and on about the show (just after one episode, its THAT juicy), but I'll just say this about the show: Courtney has a real shot at getting a spot on a soap opera. She makes the show. As well as how dense Ben is.

Like I said, after I was done with the Bachelor, I had more questions than answers about the L word and its associated feelings. I thought it prudent to turn to men who have always been considered connoisseurs of love. Take a listen, because these tracks are love-making music baby. If  these songs don't make you put on the smolder face and nod your head, you have neither a heart or ears.







Did you notice what all those videos have in common? That's right, a black man with soul. That led me to the only black man I am close enough to talk to about love, and oddly enough he is in love, Mowgli. Now, I know we have had him on the blog before, but never has he been more of an expert on love than he is at this moment. The interview was not exactly what I was hoping for.... meaning, it was pretty bland/boring/it sucks. Maybe, it was my monotone voice or that he didn't really want to play my game.

Me: Sean, what kind of feeling is love like, a shot through the heart, or the kind of feeling that makes you wanna say, 'come on, and love me sexy'?
Sean: Come on and love me sexy.
Me: So, you'd agree with Jackie Moon?
Sean: Jackie Moon says it best.
Does he really believe that? C'mon and suck me sexy? My magic eight ball says, 'DOUBTFUL.'

Me: When do you know you're in love; when you are over checking them out or when you finally can stand hearing them chew their gum?
Sean: Good question. I feel like when you are over checking them out though.
Me: Is love a 'many a ... splendid thing'? (Don't watch that whole clip. Nicole Kidman is such a whore.)
Sean: Sure, I guess.
Can't blame him for not knowing the reference, the last Romantic movie he saw was The Vow. He even gave it three and half stars out of five.... Weak. 

Me: Does love actually affect your physical composition?
Sean: Yes.
Me: In what way?
I had heard it changes the way your heart is shaped.
Sean: Chuckle. I can't tell you. It's inappropriate.
He must be talking about the pleats in his dress pants. 


Me: When people say they fell in love, what does that mean? And did that happen to you?
Sean: Yes.
Me: K. It happened to you.What does that mean?
Sean: It means the other person tripped them. So...
Me: Alright, you gunna go with that?
He nods his head, and rubs his eyes.It apparent that he couldn't care less. The amount he cares is so minimal that I can barely stand it. 


Me: K... Have you ever lied and said you loved someone?
Sean: Yeah.
Me: Who?
Sean: You.
Both Sean and Hillary chuckle then laugh. He laughs a little too hard at his own joke. Unfazed by their lack of cooperation and humor, I continue with the interview; like a professional.
Me: Sex. What are your thoughts on its connection to love?
Sean: I feel like it is a necessary step, to show your love, after the appropriate steps have been taken.
Then he says something that I can't hear, but it's probably really boring. 


Me: What was Eric Clapton really saying when he said, 'Would you know my name, if I saw you in Heaven,'?
Sean: Ha...I think he's admiring an angel from afar, and he wonders if she notices him too.
Me: Sarcastically. Do you really think it is a love song though?
Sean: Uh, probably.
Gives me an annoyed look and laugh. Probably? You're damn right it is. 


Me: Are you a selfish lover?
Sean: No.
Me: What makes you so unselfish?
Sean: I am a generous person.
I laugh inside this time. Generous. 
Me: So, could you ever fall in love with a man?
Sean: No. He chuckles. I wonder why he chuckled. I wouldn't chuckle at that. 
Me: Whats the shortest amount of time you have been in love?
Sean: Uh...Long pause. Six days.
Me: Who?
Sean: You. He laughs at his own joke again.

In conclusion, I now know that Sean doesn't have an essential element of the true black man, i.e. Romantic - soul. He has no idea about love. I am no closer to the end of my quest and frustrated more than ever.  This search is starting to feel like Zelda, The Ocarina of Time, on N64.

Red Flags

After I wrote my previous post, it got me thinking that I need to add dragon eyes to my mental list of red flags. I have the basic ones, her family, how she chews her gum, if she is a 'yeller' or 'thrower', laugh and humor, favorite movie, and finally, if she spells her name with a "i", when it should be a "y". Then, I turned to my girl, Kristen Wiig for some answers.

She Dragon.

There was this girl the other day, on campus, who had an extreme amount of eyeshadow. It was so bright, that I almost mistook her face for a neon sign. Too much of a good thing can be bad, and in this case, it was. She had the Dragon eyes; which is a red flag. Initially, she might seem appealing, but when you dig deeper, you know there is a story to be told. As in our case, Shrek provides the story, doctrine, and principle of the 'She Dragon'.

"Dragon is never given a proper name in the [Shrek] films. Her fire can melt metal in seconds, such as Prince Charming's sword in the third film. She has a taste for knights, her favorite dish. She even has a recipe book for preparing them for dinner. In the first film, Dragon is charged with guarding Princess Fiona in her isolated castle, and is therefore initially seen by Shrek and Donkey as an antagonist. While Shrek tries to rescue the princess, Donkey finds himself at the mercy of Dragon. However, in terror, he successfully, but unintentionally, wins her over. Shrek and Donkey manage to escape with Fiona, leaving Dragon behind. Dragon returns later in the film, having escaped the volanic keep, and reunites with Donkey. She flies him and Shrek to Duloc to prevent Fiona marrying Lord Farquaad, whom she later eats. Dragon and Donkey begin a relationship, and at the end of the film, when Shrek and Fiona get married, Fiona tosses her bouquet and Dragon catches it. She looks over at Donkey, who then looks at Shrek with surprise and slight terror. After Shrek nods to Donkey, giving them his blessing, Donkey accepts Dragon as his mate," (taken from Wikipedia). Then they make some kind of ugly flying jackass. The end.

Women, with dragon eyes, are like the dragon. Initially, violent, even willing to murder. Which can be attractive, even fun, I guess. Somehow, in their insanity, the dragon woman will fall in love with you. However, you did nothing to promote that feeling, nor did you reciprocate that feeling. You were merely interested. You are forced, not by the laws of nature or love, rather the laws of submission, to give into them. If you do not, they will eat you; they love eating people. In the end, you will make ugly looking babies. 

When you see a woman with dragon eyes, you become interested. When you become interested, you say too much. When you say too much, you get into trouble. When you get into trouble, you get end up in a commitment. When you have a commitment, you make rash decisions. And when you make rash decisions, you wake up to an ugly baby. Stop making rash decisions. Don't look at women with dragon eyes.

NOTE: I do not have any real experience in this field. But I know a many men who have fallen to this con. Thanks to their experiences, I have dodged that bullet. Her eyes tell the story. And she either has F.P. or the murder gene, for sure.

Jealous

I got some issues man, some real issues, with my homies girlfriends. I don't hate em, just urked. I hate getting replaced, and that is exactly what has happened. I went from the starting lineup to the bench, but unlike my counterpart World Peace, I'm no team player; I am upset. Green with envy of these girls, that they get to spend all that time with 'ma boyz'. What do they have that I don't?  Girls have some great qualities and advantages. I can admit that. One thing that I will not accept is they can replace me.

First of all, they are not more fun than me. For real, how could they be? Girls aren't funny/fun, sure there are some exceptions (Tina Fey, Kristen Wigg, and......). Sure, girls can be clever, make you chuckle/laugh quietly to yourself, but they'll never make you lose your shorts in laughter. Ever. As for fun... oh my gosh. Kissing could fill that void for awhile, but that fades, and then what do you have? Zero fun, that's what.

Secondly, the boys have to alter their personality for them. For instance, they gotta watch their tongue, pretend that they don't fart, that they actually want to watch lame TV, and diet Coke is good. C'mon man. That's not you. You love to say the B word. It is funny. You have the worst smelling farts ever, and you love to share your brand. And I know you would NOT choose to watch shows that are similar or are like: The Bachelor. As for the Diet Coke crap. Really dude? Really?

Finally, she is cutting into our time. You know, the time where we "do stuff". Now all of the sudden you can't play ball, or you can't come with me to do hood rat things. Instead, I do hood rat things on my own, and look like a real tool. I pulled off of a sweet gig the other day, and guess what? I still haven't told you guys. Then I went to a movie by myself the other night. You know how depressing that was? I had to go to the middle of the theater by myself then I left before the credits even started.

You have to take what I say with a grain of salt. I'm just super ornery right now. Forgive me.

Hopeless, according to... everyone.

I am 24... In this Mormon culture I am ancient, especially considering that I am getting close to that age of 25. That's a bad number to hit when you are single. Brigham Young said that a man who was 25 and unmarried is a menace (A person or thing that is likely to cause harm; a threat or danger) to society. I am certain that I will become another menace. I do not know how I've managed to remain single in this fast relationship world. I'm such a fool. I should've been in a hurry and married the first broad I dated. [I hope you are catching the sarcasm.] 

Let be real though, I do feel like my age marks me. I am hesitant to tell people, because I can see them hold back their gasp of shock. Then, their shock, turns into matchmaking. They wanna fix me, like I am their service project. If they could just line me up with Ms. Right, then maybe they can sleep at night, cause I am their responsibility. 

This is a real concern for those who love me; my family, bless their hearts, are very worried, and I get that. My mother thought I would be married six months after my mission. Phew, thank heavens I did do that. No offense Melissa, but.. yeah.... I am the last member of my family who has yet to be married (Steven gets married this June). So, naturally, everyone wants to set me up. Just this last Christmas break I had a former young men's teacher corner me and try to set me up with a "girl that would be perfect for me." He taught me when I was 16. He obviously KNOWS me. 

Call me jaded, cynical, whatever, the blind date thing-- getting set up, is a farce. It doesn't work. I can't think of a single blind date that resulted in a lasting and meaningful relationship. They have all been casualties, train wrecks, just bad. Maybe it's user error, but I doubt that. I am not saying that those dates and interactions weren't helpful, they have been, but the whole match making is doomed from the beginning (the expectations from both parties lead to a superficial interest and involvement). 

I'm over it. So, no thanks Uncle Rod, I don't wanna date your egotistical niece. No thanks Brother Sorenson, I'll pass on your friend. No thanks Mom, I love you, but it ain't gunna happen. It might be easier to have a sign, "Unmarried. 24. Undecided profession. Loves the Lakers. High blood pressure. Selfish." 

inept of reality.

"She thinks she is way hotter than she is." This was a profound statement made by Vance, well over a year ago, that has branded itself into my understanding ever since. The girl (who will not be named, but I'll tell you if you text and ask me...) was pretty, no doubt, but she had this ego that didn't quite seem to fit. She had this misplaced sense of self, that could be filed under, "my poop doesn't stink." Which is absurd to begin with. Who has a cabinet with a file title like that?

I still haven't found a universal phrase to explain the paradox, of a person thinking they are more attractive than they are.. But then again, it's really hard to know. So, I googled it. I searched, "celebrities that think they are hot." I found some good lists, but I think the best one is 'Snooki,' off of Jersey Shore. I've never seen Jersey Shore. I do not really want to see the show. I do not understand why someone would want to see the show. I don't think it would be a good show, but from the little that I do know about the show, Snooki is a great fit. In fact, I'm coining the phrase, "She is totally a Snooki." Actually, that sounds a little fop. Maybe just say she is a 'Snooki'; or 'Snookish'; or maybe, 'Snooki Snook'? You get it. 

Women are Snooki's, Men are ball-flexors.

Oops... I did it again.

During my freshman year of college, I dated this girl name Melissa. We had a lot of fun together. I really liked her. She was a really cool girl, but I had a problem with her. I just could not keep her name straight...

Right before Melissa I dated Michelle. We didn't date that long, at least it didn't feel like it, but she made a lasting impression on the side of my brain called Randy. Randy would prod me late at night to call Melissa Michelle. Call it a Freudian slip, call it an accident, it was getting out of control. I finally had to pause every time before I said Melissa's name, look at her, and ask myself, "What is her name?" I guess the "Mu" sound at the beginning of the names was too much for me too handle.

I thought I was over this little problem... until I started dating Brittany. One night we were having a serious talk. The kind of talk where if you say something dumb, the walls of Jericho are going to come tumbling down. During the conversation I was getting all close, trying to be sweet, then it happened. Randy makes me spit out an awkward, "Brryyynnnn." I trailed off on the end after I started to hit the "y". I was going for a "Britt" but I made the awful "y" sound.

It was bad. I felt so bad. It couldn't have come at a more inappropriate time. I almost wish she would've punched me in the face, that would have made me feel better. I will never live it down...

She says she don't know me.

I know that girls like three things:

1. Crappy music.

2. Reality TV shows. 

3. Scary movies. 

Losing my mind to TV

If you haven't heard of Friday Night Lights, the television series, then get out from underneath that stupid rock, that you call home, and watch it. I am addicted. Watch it once, and if you don't like it, crawl back underneath that rock. We don't need you. America will continue on without you. The real issue isn't if you'll like the show, the issue is managing your time. You'll stay up late, talk to friends about the characters, say prayers for the Panthers to win their next game, and even plan a trip to Dillon.

In a previous post I said that I would tell the story of Crazy Mazy, but it turns out, that in writing about her, I discovered that her story and mine is pretty bland and crappy.... Truthfully, I forgot the details. I don't even remember why she is crazy, other than she is. Sorry to disappoint. I feel like it could have been a good story, but in the end, the ending is the same, kinda like all chick flicks.

Should I be worried that I don't remember things?

Iced... Part II

Notice how my date is taking the picture?

It is high time that I just come out and admit it. All I really write about is girls. Fine. That is what this blogs theme is. Some have the theme of pictures, others cleverness, or even political thoughts. Mine = girls. Sorry, young women. In a way, this is the theme of my life. I am searching for the woman of my dreams, one that I don't deserve. *Sigh*. Now, coming out and admitting that I am on this search may make some squirm. But it's the truth. I am done coasting. I want my life to move on. To enter a new chapter in my life... at least that I what I am saying now. And this is why....

Dating sucks. This is no new revelation to anyone who has attempted to progress in this game. Getting girls numbers causes me to get ubber nervous. First dates make me nauseous. Getting to know a stranger is a challenge. Then they end up being a dead end in a road, or worse, a hole in my heart. Cynical view, yes. There is truth to this. (Que the music, preferably some slow jams.) All I really want is a wife. There I said it. Someone I can confide in. Someone that will be on my team all the time (look at Edward and Bella----> AWESOME), rooting me on for success, and helping me through failures. Gosh dang, I want a woman that loves me for me. This sounds super dumb (and corny... super corny), but I want to be loved. And I, here we go, want to love some back. There, the cat is out of the bag. Let's move on, cause it got really weird just now.

Last week my buddies decide to plan a date night. Remember I am still in this happy go lucky "lets go on dates and just have fun". I ask a girl, Rose, she is pretty and is fun to flirt with. I ask her days in advance. She agrees to come to this date night. "Great," I think, "No pressure now. I have a date. No one will be jawing at me to get a date." It comes to the date night. She knows. There is NO doubt that she knows, we talked about it the day before, in class. I text her, just to open dialogue, to let her know when I will pick her up. Mistake, I know (see death by texting). No response. I decide she must be in class. I give it an hour. Then I remember my own personal experience with girls and texting. They ALWAYS have their damn phones and texting is retarded. I call her. Rings out. Hmmm. Weird. I put on the brakes. Let it go, let her figure it out. The time arrives, and nothing, not a peep, no smoke signal. She is pulling a Bobby Fischer, Magiver, wicked witch act, she is going to ICE me. At first I am pissed. My pride is hurt. Ego damaged. Self esteem bruised. Then, my homies come over....

I am chilling on the couch, eating some carb filled foods, shirt off, crumbs littering my stomach, watching a movie that reminds me of how a man should act in dire times: Gladiator. (Thank heavens for Russell Crowe.) Some of the crew rolls in and tell me their unsuccessful bid to get dates as well. I can't help but laugh and let the muscle in my body ease up. Blastoff tells me how this girl blows him off with homework. Then another doesn't respond to his text until its too late. I hear tibits about how some of the others got iced with LAME excuses, but The People's story takes the cake. He asks this girl. Not sure how he met her. Doesn't matter really. He asks her out. The day of the date, like hours till we are a 'go for launch', he gets a text. (See how dumb texting is! Just a way for people to avoid being real. UGH!) The texts something like, "Hey, I am kinda not single anymore." Um what? Kinda not single...? Within 12 hours of being asked out on date she is hitched. Shoot, I bet it was facebook official within minutes.

The night turns into just us brothers kicking it. Having a good time, like always. The next day I get a text. I hope by now you are disgusted with texting as much as I am. It is from...what is her name again...Rose. Ah, I had to scroll up to remember what pseudonym I gave her. That is how memorable I guess she is. Anyways, it is a long text.
 "Hey, did you call me yesterday? I dropped my phone in the toilet. I couldn't see who was calling, the screen was black. I just got my replacement phone from Verizon...." I don't really remember the rest, you get the point. This alibi is full proof... Yeah, right.

 I see some major holes in this story. If a phone is fully immersed in water, a toilet, it will not work. Water damage is fatal. I am a little surprised that it fell in a toilet. I guess I usually am on my phone doing all sorts of stuff near my open toilet. Texting. Calling. Just gaming it up. Sometimes I throw my phone in the air and catch it just before it hits the water. Really cool game. Like Russian roulette..... Wait, the screen was black. Yeah, cannot answer my phone if I don't know who the heck is calling me. The screen is BLACK! Then again, if the phone is working, why not call the dude who asked you out and let him know that you are going to stand him up? That is too considerate. Too classy. You have a reputation to maintain.... which is improving ever so much.

Let's give her a break. We are being too hard. The phone, if it did survive the fall to the poop bowl, may not have been able to make calls. She didn't know my number. Oops. She has roommates and friends that know my number. Huh. Another inquiry comes to mind, you just got a replacement phone... again, using a friend's phone to be polite is too much to ask. Verizon doesn't have rollover minutes. Too much to ask really. Just too much. Come on David. This is the 21 century. You are behind the time. Chivarly is dead. Being cool is old fashioned.

When I see her again I try not to show that I am a little put off by her lameness. I find it extremely interesting that she doesn't show me her "new" phone, and acts all awkward about it. She blushes and I have a slight hunch that she is lying. She looks too uncomfortable. I try not to probe. Then I ask... She says, "The replacement phone looks just like the old one..." I bet it does. All the same scratches and everything. Cell phone companies are trying a new thing. They are actually selling phones with scratches and normal wear and tear. Just like popular pants. Neat huh? I thought so. That is why I am going to get a iPhone that has a huge crack in it!
Do I believe her? No. Will I give Rose another chance? When Robin Williams changes his name to Jackass 3D. But David, that will never happen... I know. That is the point...

THE PHATOM POST

My friend told me that I wrote some post about why guys do not really want to be friends with girls. I have never written such a post. I have talked with him about it, maybe in passing, or a short text at four in the morning, but I have not tackled this straight on. Here it is. Thrilling, I know, like the seventh Rocky that is coming out soon... The Expendables. Good ol' Sly.
Take what I say with a grain of salt.

FACT: Boys, over the age of eight, do not want to be friends with girls.
1. When boys turn eight they can choose right from wrong. Therefore, they gain a knowledge and understanding that being friends with a girl sucks. Unless they have homosexual tendencies. Wait that is wrong. So, it is a double negative and shouldn't exist. Glad we cleared that up.
a. Girls cannot belch, throw, fart, eat, pee, run, talk, or do any other daily activity like a boy. Sexiest? Yes. Because there are two sexes. One is more prone to other skills than the other. Pretty obvious.
b. Girls do not like to be silly and stupid as much a boys do. Meaning, girls silly is painting toe nails and giggling about Bobby's cute mole on his face. Guys silliness is throwing pennies at cars and making fun other of each other. Girls mature much faster.
2. Men were designed to be attracted to girls, and visa versa. IE Scarlet Johansen. Brad Pitt.
a. I have had a crush on a girl since I can remember. When I was in the "special school", I crushed mad on my teacher. Then it was Jess, then Crystal, then Cindy, then Rachel, then Cindy again, then Ashley and Kiley... this can go on till right now. Boys have the hots for ladies all the time. HARDWIRED INTO US. Take a physiology or human sexuality class.
3. Would you rather watch how to lose a guy in ten days or you've got mail. Neither? Oh, sorry, that is what she wants to watch tonight for the hang out, while your man friends are tipping back on dew and watching Walker Texas Ranger. OUCH. Have fun. Maybe you should put some moisturizer on your hands too.
4. Watch Just Friends. He hated being her friend. He loved that blonde like I love raspberry jam. And I LOVE raspberry jam, especially on toast. What happens in the end. Seals the deal.

If you are still not convinced, then I have not done my job. Ask a man. Ask Jeeves. Ask your mother. I bet she married her best friend. Yeah, cause he was never her friend. She thought that... but he didn't, now you exist. Thank your dad next time you see him. Say, "Father, thank you for not allowing yourself to stay in the friends zone. You have done society a great service. I owe my life to you and will now dedicate it to you. I will make myself a successful person in this world and contribute to the community in which I live. I will be a an outstanding citizen. I will make a difference in more ways than you can now imagine or dream. You are my hero."

I sure hope Bud Light makes a Real Men of Genius commercial about the saps that believe being friends with girls is cool. Ok. Said that wrong. Guys just don't want to be friends. They want more than swapping stories about... whatever girls like to share with boys... and not cuddling while watching a movie. Boys want love; aka coodies.

Iced.

There are some things that you have to go through in life that you'd rather not happen. For instance: Forgetting that you no longer use diapers. Realizing that Santa is fake. Puberty. Three hours of church. Schooling. But at the end of the road, you come out a better person.-- Suddenly you can hold your bladder. Mom and Dad are that much cooler when they buy you that gift. Your voice no longer squeaks. You feel a lot better after church. And a better paying job never hurts.

Lets try an exercise. I am going to write a list of words. I want you to read them, and think to yourself, "How do these words or expressions make me feel?" Easy enough. -----Accepted. Granted. Accomplished. Made it. Success. Hit the shot. BOOMSHOCKOLACA! YES!
How do you feel? Good? I hope so. I have another list.-- Denied. Shut down. Turned down. No. Rejected. Sorry. Iced. How do you feel now? Like a pile of bricks? Poop bricks? Yeah, I thought so.

I have been getting iced a lot lately. I don't know what the deal is. I know I was going to let the women run after me, but that just hasn't been happening. I don't know what the problem is, but it is haunting me in my sleep. I had a dream last night about one of my ex-girlfriends. It was an odd thing seeing her. I asked her, like she was some kind of an oracle, what the problem was. Why was I getting iced down so much? I don't remember all she said, there was a lot. She told me it was because I wasn't that good looking. I looked like a creeper sometimes, with my scowl and such. And finally, because I have bad breath. To say the least, I have been extremely self conscience of all of those things now. I think I may need to do something cooler with my hair, pluck some eyebrows (might help me not look so creepy), and invest in some serious toothpaste and mouth wash.

Summer

run for me.

Sometimes, when I am by myself, I begin to question a lot of things. One of the most visited thoughts within in my brain is women. They also seem to be the constant that heal and break my heart. I guess it is important to understand that I love them all. I fall head over heels like a roller coaster, and by the time I come to, I am nauseous. In the past, I have gotten myself so deep into girls, that there is no way that I can come out unscathed. One of my friends told me the difference between me and most men, they casually dip their feet in the pool water, testing its temperature and assessing the consequences of getting wet. I, however, dive in. Head first. Not caring how deep the pool is.

Here is what I am asking myself, what is better to dip, wade, take it easy, or just be like Justin Bieber and cry out "I just need somebody to LOVE!" or "Your world is my world. Your fight is my fight. And my breath is your breath..." For me it is obviously a lot easier to be passionate right out, but is that making it more difficult for me to really see what is going on.



We are all in a battle (right Ms. Sparks?) for love. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone Love Everyone! I see flaws with either game plan. With the dip and analyze strategy it breeds a man to not commit, to play the field, and not get serious. It is really a defense mechanism. They shield themselves from a relationship, that way they stay safe. Mine on the other hand, takes a lot out of a man. His time and emotional strength. It creates a mixed up individual. I guess it is all about deciding what kind of race you wanna run. Sprints or a Marathon. I don't know if I am really making sense. Essentially, it doesn't matter what kind of race you wanna run, as long as you finish.

BUT I don't wanna do the pre-races anymore. I don't even wanna stretch. I wasn't born in Kenya or the Caribbean. And guess what Gatorade, I am not about to take your three drinks. I am going to sit the next few plays out. I think it is time that I become the prize. Start running for me ladies, cause this wolf is wiped out. Unfortunately, we all know this is not possible. But it was nice to pretend that it would actually happen in those few sentences. I will continue to run. Run boy run.

Don't me Fall

The game.

I just had one of the worst nights of my life. All b/c of a girl.

In a nutshell.

The day started out grand. I went shooting with this girl, we'll call her Becky to make things simple. Anyhow. I went clay pigeon shooting with Becky. It was fun. I had a great time. Hit some baseballs in the afternoon with the same chick and some friends. My day was going grand. In the evening I had an enjoyable time playing on my friends softball team. I had a pretty good game too. I decided that I wanted to kick it with this girl again. Maybe see what happened. She seemed like a way cool girl. And I had put myself out there enough to let her know that I was interested.

We kicked it. Played some cards, watched a funny animated film, then talked. I tend to lean towards the easier route. If she is into me I am into her. I've never been good at chasing... and looking at the day in retrospect I see why. On the surface it looks like a good solid day. WRONG. Dead wrong. I did so many things wrong.

First off, I kicked it with this girl for more than several hours, meaning more than 3. Bad move man. I know that rules are important to dating. I used to think, "Screw these unofficial rules man. They are for dudes that just want tail. Go with the flow." Not any more man. They are a safeguard. The protect suckers like me.

Second bad move: I always assume. Now, I know you have to have confidence. You should feel like a million bucks, but just because you think every girl wants some, doesn't mean it is true. It has been my sad experience, that it isn't true. I always assume that I can read people. I have not a clue. I can't figure people out more than I can figure out the chemical formula to the element that Iron Man invented. I assumed that this chick was interested. I mean, she text me saying that she wanted to hang out. She never said that she didn't want to hang out. However, I am probably the only option, or one of the few options she has. Girls think that guys just want to be friends. Sure we like a girl or two we can get back scratches from or some advice, but those are usually the girls that have made the rounds, and we figured that it wouldn't work. Becky probably just wanted some entertainment. She was bored, needed something new.

Third: I gave way too much. I didn't play hard to get. I practically told her that I liked her. Terrible. I do not know her that well (once again I assumed that she was tight), and girls love to chase (assuming that she liked me). The morning shoot was expensive, shells and clay pigeons aren't just handed out. Remember, this was the first time we hung out alone. Call it a date if you want. I didn't even test the waters. I dove right in. During the shoot we made a bet about snow cones. I won... but guess who ended up paying? Me. I AM A SUCKER. Another example, that has nothing to do with money cause I am sounding really cheap right now... I was nice. I was sweet. Not mean. When that feeling isn't being reciprocated back, that has to tell you something. When your handing out flowers and they are dishing out punches, that has to make you wonder. What the hell is this? You shouldn't have to ask them to be sweet. Shouldn't that just be there.

Here is the curve ball. She came to my softball game and cheered. She texted me and said that we should hang out. But when ever I got close, or there was physical contact, an odd feeling shot into the room. The feeling was almost like a shot from the doctor. Ugh. Even thinking about that shot makes me shiver. She was rude to me as well. The jokes weren't even cute or flirtatious. Just rude. They got annoying. There wasn't chill and all is good vibe. It wasn't easy to be there. I felt like I had worn out my welcome, yet she had invited me. It was awful.

I am too nice and sincere. I really want to know the person for who they are and them me, in the matter of minutes. I want there to be trust, but I am only fooling myself. Completely fooling myself. I put myself out there way too much. I tend to do that, but I never learn my lesson. I don't know when I'll figure it out, but hopefully sooner than later. At the same time, this type of "give it your all son" attitude has helped me eliminate the girls that aren't worth my time. I am trying too hard. Some guys just have it-- the mojo. As well as the intuition to know which girl will be worth their time. I have neither. I hope someone makes a rule book I can follow so I can nail this down once and for all.