Sometimes I Just Wanna Dance

Today presented itself with a situation where I found myself wishing I had a girlfriend.  These occasions happen frequently and often in situations that don't necessarily garner feelings of loneliness or anything like that.  Instead, I often find myself wishing for a sweetheart for reasons other than romance.  It's usually a situation where I find myself at a disadvantage and wish for a significant other to step up and help a guy out.  Today presented a situation very much like that.  I required some assistance, even though, in the end it turned out that I faired alright all on my own.

My sister is a hair stylist.  She used to cut my hair regularly, but in recent years, she's been dialing back how often she works and therefore her time is much more precious and dedicated to her long list of cliental, leaving me with a mop-top, so to speak.  It was during one of those hiatus' where I let my hair grow out, quite lengthy.  I felt alright with the longer lochs, but when my hair began to thin, it looked like I had a skullet (that's a mullet that bald guys grow ~ not sexy at all).  After getting fit in for an "emergency" cut, I had my sister shave my head bald.  Following that impromptu appointment, I purchased my own set of clippers and set to shaving my own cranium every few months.  Today happened to be that day.

I always find it difficult to shave the back of my head.  I duck my head in close to the bathroom mirror, opening the medicine cabinet on the side, as much as I can to view as much of my head as I can.  There are some blind spots where I rely on my sense of touch to feel whether I need to run the area over again with the clippers.  "Man, I wish I had a girlfriend to help me with this." I muttered aloud.

Granted, there are other benefits to having a girlfriend.  There's the bouts of loneliness where another person would be a blessing.  Having the ability to venture out on the town for a nice meal or take in a show or play.  Do a lot of the unique couples experiences that I hear about from my friends.  It'd be nice to make memories with another soul that feels about me the same way I do about them.  That's all fine and good, so then my brain, the way it works, then places these fictitious females in different roles that would benefit me beyond just an emotional crutch.

When I'm hurt or injured, it would be a glorious blessing to have a partner who was a physiotherapist.  Help me heal up some of these nagging injuries in a way where I needn't attend inconvenient appointments.  My last physiotherapist, Elissa, would have filled that vacancy nicely.  She's a free spirit and smart as a whip.  Always laughing at my goofiness, but alas, she's in a relationship.  With a chubby little dude, so my weight would not have been a roadblock. 😄  

A girl with mechanical skills would have been very beneficial, recently, when I was struggling to get my Mustang running and put back on the streets after a nine year absence.  It would have been a true blessing to have my girl push me aside and say, "No worries, baby.  I got this."  To be honest, that's probably why I like Megan Fox.  She probably, in reality, doesn't know dick-all about cars, but that one scene in Transformers, was all the convincing I needed.  Even if she, my fictitious girlfriend, if she had a father or a brother who could do mechanical shit, that would have been really cool, too, although in my mind, the conversation went a lot different.

"Thank you, sir, for helping me out with this.  I wish I knew something about fixing cars, but..."

"Hey. No problem.  You make my little girl very happy, so I don't mind helping you out with this kind of stuff." My faux girlfriend's dad would say to me, "But..., if you ever hurt my little girl, no one will ever find the body."

😨 Gulp.  That fantasy took a sharp turn for the worst. 

I always thought having a girlfriend who was a cop would be really hot, too.  Someone rough and tough on the street, but soft and warm the moment she comes home and slips into a pair of baggy sweats or whatever.  Plus, she'd have handcuffs.  I'll stop there. No need to elaborate on that. 😂

The girlfriend sitch is pretty f*cking bleak.  I have no idea where people meet anymore and even if I did, I lack the self-confidence to approach anyone, anyway.  Even the girlfriends and hook-ups I've had, I don't have a clue how I managed to succeed in those situations.  I know alcohol was a factor in a couple, but I really don't know how I charmed the others. 🤔  Even if I were to recall how to attract a lovely PYT (Pretty Young Thing), I don't have much to offer, anyway.  My body is broken.  My personality, from what I've learned as of late, leaves people hating me.  I know of two friends, right this minute, who's significant others dislike me greatly.  I'm told it's my personality.  That hurts, mostly because I don't act like the real me around anyone, because, if we're being honest, I don't even like me.  I guess that's another red flag.  How can I love someone else, when I hate myself?  No use bringing anyone into this shit situation until I get my own bullshit figured out.

I guess I'm just destined to be alone.  At least until I figure out why I'm such a piece of shit.  I don't want to bring a lovely young miss into my life, only to break her heart and have some angry father or brother come brutalize me then hide the body so no one would ever find it. 😬

I don't know when or why my life got so messed up, but the girlfriend sitch is currently nil and that's how it has to be, I guess, but man...  Sometimes...  Sometimes, I just wanna go out and dance.

 

A Debilitated Heart

A young co-worker, just eighteen years in age, but wise beyond his years, approached me the other night.  He had a look of seriousness on his face, asking a serious question and not wanting one of my usual smart-ass quips.

L_____ is, as I said, wise beyond his eighteen years, and we've engaged in some inspiring subjects while restocking the coolers at work, but this subject, as it does with many, was stumping him and it was easy to understand why.

"How do you know when a girl is really into you?" he asked.  For a moment, I was sincerely touched, but remembering that my luck with the fairer sex has not been what anyone would categorize as, ideal.  Before I could answer his question, he added, "I asked this girl out for a coffee and she said, 'Hell yeah!'"  I confounded.  Even in my (extreme) few successes, I'd never gotten a 'hell yeah" as a response.

I paused for a moment, attempting to recall some fragment of useful information, but alas I had to confess that my knowledge wasn't up to par.  That no tidbit of information from me would bear any fruit of usefulness.  "I don't know," I explained, "Usually when I ask a girl out for a coffee, she somehow hears it as 'Can I have sex with you?', although I'm really talking about a warm refreshing beverage."

He thanked me for listening and continued on with his tasks, leaving me to dwindle on my past.  Silently I reminisced about the many rejections I've received over the years, concluding on two that I couldn't distinguish between as being the worse rejections.  Later on, I approached young L_____ and asked for his opinion.  Like I said, he's wise beyond his years.

"I asked one girl out for coffee and she answered with a resounding 'NOPE!!'  No hesitation.  No thoughts on the matter.  Not even so much as eye contact.  I barely got the question out and it was a 'nope' with a hard 'P' sound." I explained.

"Well that was harsh." he said.

"The other rejection," I continued, "The girl paused, scrunched up her face and uttered with disgust, "Eww. No."

L_____ was taken aback, then started to calculate in his head which rejection was truly the worse of the two.  He went with the latter, stating that the exclamation of disgust was definitely worse.  All these years, I'd always considered the first as worse, as no consideration was placed into the decision, but upon reexamination, I'm going to have to agree with my young friend.  Pausing to think about it, then shrieking with fear and disgust, does seem more offensive.  Damn.  My life sucks...!

I've always suffered from seasonal depression.  My sadness and loneliness seems to culminate during the winter months.  Professionals have explained it to me that it's the lack of sunlight and that the sky always seems so dull and grey.  I've always disagreed, stating that it's because all the shit that most couples enjoy together, happens during these months.  My spell usually begins just before Halloween and extends off into springtime.

I've gone on to explain that Halloween is a time that is most enjoyed with a partner.  Go out to a bar or a party and have some fun and laughs.  I'm usually a designated driver, instead, often looked over by party patrons.  Next is my birthday.  I've never had a girlfriend or significant other to share my birthday with.  Probably explains why I prefer to hide away and ignore everything when November 29th rolls around.  After that, it's Christmas.  Everyone around me is bragging and showing me what they got for their loved one and all I can do is fake a smile and feign interest, wishing I had someone special to share the holiday with.  I did have someone special many many years ago, but she died in a car accident days before Christmas, so the season has always been a little tarnished for me, though I don't dwell on the negativity as much anymore.

I've never had a New Year's kiss.  While everyone around me is smooching to Auld Lang Syne, I'm left looking at the floor, reminiscing about the one year that I did have a girlfriend on New Year's Eve, but because she didn't like public displays of affection, I was rejected.  A few years later, I'd be celebrating the New Year with some friends at a house party, one woman spoke up and said, I'll give everyone a New Year's kiss, but not Jeff.  Talk about a proverbial kick to the junk.

St. Valentine's Day is next.  I got a dancing gorilla with a top hat once from a friend at work.  I kinda had the hots for her, but nothing every grew from that.  (Ironically, she was the one who uttered - "Eww, No.")  I still have that dancing gorilla today and on St. Valentine's Day, I press the button and watch him dance for a few seconds.  It makes me smile and feel special for a moment... I've never had anyone special to buy flowers or chocolate for.  No one to take out on for a romantic dinner.

I have had a few successes with women.  I'm not a complete loser.  I'm mostly a loser, but not completely.  However, on closer examination of what worked to get those successes, I haven't got the foggiest idea.  One or two of them were alcohol-related, so anyone's guess is as good as any.  A couple successes more were the result of off-the-cuff smart-ass remarks.  Endeavours that have not been successfully repeated.

I'm often told that I'm a nice person, but beyond that, I don't know what is wrong with me.  I know I'm not interesting.  I don't do anything interesting.  I don't have any hobbies that I can share with people.  No extra-curricular activities that can strike interest.  I haven't any passions that anyone deems interesting.  I'm afraid I'm a lone wolf, destined to walk the world alone.

These days, life is especially tough.  I've not been able to secure gainful employment since being laid off from CNH in June of 2014.  I see many of my co-workers around and about and they've all found jobs to supplement their lifestyles, while I've been "lucky" enough to get hired onto a back-breaking minimum wage job that is slowly killing me from the inside out.  I've sent resumes to countless employers and even have an employment coach trying to help me out.  It seems like the more resumes that are sent out and the more rejections I get, the more useless I'm feeling about myself, every day.

I'm glad I have my cat, Monkey, otherwise I don't know where I'd be, if I were to be at all.

My birthday is on Tuesday.  I plan on staying home, with Monkey.  We're going to watch TV.  Share some laughs..., then I have to go to work that night. 😞
Damn!  My life sucks...!

My boy, Monkey.

The King of Wishful Thinking

It is amazingly stupid, what passes for viable news, sometimes.  Two big stories emblazoned on the media right now, is the Lance Armstrong "juicing" confession that he made to Oprah Winfrey, in her desperate attempt for ratings on her dying O Network.  The other is Notre Dame football star, Manti Te'o allegedly being the victim of an elaborate hoax, in which he carried on a lengthy romantic relationship with a woman who not only died, but apparently never existed to begin with.

As for Lance Armstrong, I really don't see the big deal if he used steroids or not.  Cycling really isn't a sport, per se, so where's the harm?  Athletes and athletic companies continually test to find more aerodynamic and lightweight materials to give themselves a competitive edge, why is a chemical substitution frowned upon?  On drag strips all across this continent, you have people racing their cars with blowers, turbochargers, and Nitrous Oxide Systems (NOS) to give a winning edge, so injecting a substance into one's body should be an acceptable option, too. Besides that, the guy lost one of his testicles to cancer, for f*ck sake.

That might be something to debate in the media and the judicial system, but as for the latter, Manti Te'o having a fake girlfriend who died.  I don't understand why that is considered ground breaking news.  For the last couple of days, on CNN's sister station, Headline News (HLN), the story has been running nonstop.  My opinion is of the position, WHO CARES?  I don't even understand it all.  He (Te'o) apparently met this girl online and carried on a relationship which eventually turned into a boyfriend/girlfriend type relationship in early 2012.  This part is understandable, to a degree.  I think it's a helluva lot easier to fall for someone through text than it is in person.  That wouldn't work for yours truly, as I'm much more of an asshole in print than I am in person.

Manti's "girlfriend", Lennay Kekua, apparently had a bad car accident last summer, but survived.  Then she experienced further bad luck, by being diagnosed with Leukemia which hospitalized her and she eventually succumbed to the brutal disease.  (It sounds like this "chick" has shittier luck than me...)  Manti Te'o had grown so in love with Lennay, that her passing was quite overwhelming.  After that, I don't know what prompted the media to investigate deeper into the existence of Lennay Kekua, but it was quickly discovered that the girl that Manti Te'o was so madly in love with, never actually existed, and therefore the shit storm ensues.

Now it's speculated that Manti, himself, perpetrated the entire ordeal.  Humiliated, he denies all allegations.  But who really gives a f*ck whether he did or not?  Where's the harm in whether he imagined a relationship or not?  If in the process, he inspired some of his fans to donate money towards the research to cure cancer, where's the f*cking harm?  Whether the girlfriend in question, exists or not, cancer is still a motherf*cker of a disease.  I say lie to everyone 'til you're blue in the face, if it means bringing an end to this plague.

Scads of males everyday, go online, find "questionable" (and tasteless) pornographic videos, and for an average of 20 minutes, according to a recent study, pretend to be in a tawdry affair with a skeezy skank.  It happens.  Internet access makes it easy.  No one's proud of it, but it exists.  More so in Washington D.C., according to the research, but it does occur everywhere...

With much more important issues in the world.  Continuous poverty and unemployment; war in the middle east; whether or not North Korea is aiming any nuclear weapons towards North America; or most importantly right now, gun issues, like why is it so easy for the mentally unstable to acquire weapons, or why it's necessary and important for people to possess not one or two guns, but a complete f*cking arsenal of weapons, all because the constitution declares it.  (Talk about "artistic license".)

Even in the time that it's taken for me to tap out these few words, I've overheard some stupid stories covered on the television that I've left on in the other room.  I suppose when you run a 24-hour news channel, you need to air a lot of fluff to fill those empty spaces.

The comment I read in researching this story that I found the most absurd was "Even though Kekua never existed, Te'o's grandmother Annette Santiago did pass away on September 11, 2012."  As if someone would be cagey enough to fake the death of a family member.