“The List, Version 2.0”

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Back in 2010, I crafted what became known as “The List.” It was a simple collection of ten or so rules I put in place in case I would ever consider getting into a relationship. The rules seemed common-sense to me (“must have a car” and “must have a job”) but some met with quite a bit of negative feedback (“must not have kids”). At that time, I made no attempt to explain my rules, unless I was pressed into doing so.


Even though I have removed myself completely from the dating scene until at least August of 2019, I am going to create a new “List.” I’m sure it will be very similar to the previous version, which has been lost over time, but I feel like now is a good time to do it, since I am clear-headed and have 11 months to make it into “law.”

So, I present to you, The List, Version 2.0:


RULE 1 – MUST BE SINGLE

This may seem a little over-obvious until you understand what I have dealt with. I’ll give a perfect example. In 2006, I met a girl I took a liking to, she was cute, intelligent and had a great sense of humor. The first time we went out, she told me she was divorced and gave me a little insight into her life. A week later, she told me she needed to be “honest” with me and announced that she was separated, not divorced. A short time later, she told me she was not exactly separated, they were still living together to “share expenses.” I cut my losses at that point and found out a few weeks later they were expecting their second child. Fortunately, I had never laid a hand on this girl.


RULE 2 – MUST HAVE A JOB


Just suffice to say I have had enough experience dealing with good-for-nothing, worthless, jobless, hopeless, penniless pieces of garbage. Period. If you can’t support yourself, you need to find a way to start doing so, not expect some guy to do it. Especially if you’re toting around numerous children. That’s trashy. No decent man is going to walk into that kind of a situation. At least not knowingly.

RULE 3 – MUST HAVE A CAR

See rule 2. I see relationships as a 50/50 proposition. If you can’t come and see me as often as I come and see you, it’s suddenly a 75/25 proposition. And that doesn’t work for me. I also have no desire to run a taxi service. If I did, I’d be an Uber driver.

RULE 4 – NO CRAZY EX’S

If your ex is going to show up at the house with a gun, or follow me or threaten me, he’s just begging to get his ass kicked and I have no desire to be staring at assault charges. I am not taking hold until your ex has let go… and you have let go of your ex. In 2006 I met a beautiful woman who worked at a local hospital.  One day, her ex-husband showed up at the hospital and proceeded to bust the windows out of her car.  That’s not going to work for me.  My ex’s are left in the past, where they belong. I do my best to completely forget I ever dealt with any of them. If you’re still hung up on yours, then you need to get over it, or you guys need to work things out and get back together. Just keep me out of it.

RULE 5 – NO MULTIPLE BABY DADDY’S

If you’re in your 30’s and have more than two kids with more than two guys, you are not relationship material, you are community property. No man wants to introduce a woman like that to his friends. Especially if her reputation proceeds her. No man wants to get laughed at because his woman has been everybody’s woman. I am not making any open-ended judgments here, just keep that away from me.  I am not going to date a woman I am ashamed of being with.  That’s absolutely ludicrous.

RULE 6 – MUST BE LOCAL

I’m not doing long distance. Period. It’s not even up for debate. If you don’t live within a reasonable distance, don’t even flirt with me. If it takes an hour or more to get to your house, I see no reason to even give that a consideration. I’m too needy. If I am in a relationship, I expect to actually SEE my woman. Regularly. Not once a month or even once a week. You can’t get to know someone well enough barely seeing them to know if the relationship can go forward. Long distance does NOT work.

RULE 7 – MUST PASS MY BACKGROUND CHECK

If there is a chance we are going to start seeing each other, I’m going to do some investigating. No one wants to go into a situation completely blind, and I always like to see what someone’s reputation is like on the street. Admittedly, I have found out that people don’t always like to tell the truth until it’s too late, but I’m still going to see what your reputation is like. No one wants to date the Whore Of Babylon.

RULE 8 – MUST BE CLEAN

This covers a multitude of areas. No STD’s. No arrest record. No drug use. Must bathe. Must keep your house clean. I’ve had enough dealings with trash to last me a lifetime and I don’t want to deal with it any longer. And I never will again. So if you can’t keep yourself and your home clean, and you can’t stay out of jail or off drugs, piss off. I’m too many levels above you and it’s not going to work out. Find someone who is more on your level. The jails are full of meth-heads you should hit it off with.

RULE 9 – YOU MUST ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM

I’m 41 years old and I’m not changing for anyone. I love watching baseball and smoking cigars and time spent by myself. I like to sleep in my own bed, alone or otherwise. I don’t use drugs and I don’t waste my life in bars. I’m a bit of a “geek” and proud of it. I’m not going to alter my life for a woman. I’d rather be alone and do what I enjoy than be with someone who can’t accept me for who I am. Non-negotiable.

In closing, if you are able to jump through all nine of those hoops and we have a mutual attraction and compatibility and you’re single in August 2019, then we’ve got a good foundation for a potential relationship. If you come up short in any way, then I wish you good luck in your future endeavors and hope you find someone more compatible with you, because I’m not. And at my age, I see no reason to settle for less than I deserve. I’ve spent far too much of my life settling when it comes to relationships.


Thank you for reading. God bless, and have a great day.

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Broken Mirror: Seven Years Of Bad Luck And Misery [2010-2017] [The Final Word]

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Everyone is aware of the old wives’ tale that breaking a mirror will bring you seven years of bad luck. While I don’t remember breaking anything, I definitely suffered every bit of seven years, and then some, of bad luck, misery and unhappiness. A lot of people have said “just let it go” and “just get over it.” That’s easier said than done when you consider I was basically robbed, held hostage and mentally and emotionally abused for seven years. And things only got worse once I got out of that mess. It’s a story that deserves to be told.

So, for the first time in it’s entirety, I’m going to talk about the last seven years of my life and everything that happened to me during that time. Everything in this post is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me God.

I had to do this. I had wanted to do it long ago, but legally I couldn’t until after July 8. Since then, I have been piecing it together, brainstorming, digging deep within my memory for every detail I could come up with and basically “interviewing” friends that knew about the happenings to help jog my memory. I wanted everything to be exact.

In order to put the last seven years into any kind of perspective, I need to first wind the clock back to 2009 in order to set the stage. In November of that year I got out of an unhappy relationship with a woman who was nine years older than me and that I had not gotten along with at all. I was ready to live my life differently and I became very anti-relationship. Now, don’t misunderstand, I was all about dating and hanging out and sleeping around, I just had no desire whatsoever to get into another relationship after that one. I liked the concept of going out to dinner and going to a movie, then going back to my place for some adult time, and then escorting her to the door and going to sleep or whatever I did at that point.

I made a point of making sure every woman I went out with understood this was how things were. There would be no relationship. Most girls understood this and the few that didn’t learned fast that I was as good as my word. And other than one six-week exception, this was my life from November 2009 to November 2010, but I need to delve into that six-week exception in order to explain how my seven years of misery came to be.

In June 2010 I began seeing a woman exclusively that I had known for about four years. She lived about an hour away. I knew this was going to be problematic. But I also knew there wasn’t going to be a lot of time invested in the relationship either.

I basically went into it knowing it was not going to last.

Six weeks later, I gave her an ultimatum: We can break up amicably or we can be in an open relationship. I told her, point blank, that I couldn’t spend the rest of my life sleeping with one woman. It made no sense to continue turning down women I was attracted to that were willing to have a one-night stand to be in a lackluster relationship.

So, we split up but remained on speaking terms and I went back to my carousing ways. It continued for another three glorious months. Then, the girl I had spent six weeks in a relationship with told me that I would be happier if I settled on one woman.

She meant herself, of course, but I decided to test the waters elsewhere. I’m not sure what I was thinking in terms of being “happier,” because I don’t know how I could have been any happier with the way things were going. I had four girls on the schedule for November and each one was hot, single and willing. If that isn’t happiness, what is?

As November unfolded, I continued to think about what that girl had said. Maybe I would be happier if I actually applied myself in a real relationship.

And right about this time, I made a mistake of ultimate dimension that changed my life forever. I met a girl who lived about 15 minutes away from me and talked to her on Facebook Messenger. Then I invited her over to my house. I even canceled on a former coworker I was incredibly hot for in order to bring this local girl in and see what happened.

Location was extremely important to me as I began to put together what it would take to keep me interested in a relationship. No one I had met or went out with or slept with lived closer than this girl. I had dated some as far away as 90 minutes. Some as close as 20 minutes. But this one was the closest. And while she wasn’t beautiful, she was perfectly acceptable. At least, she seemed to be acceptable on the surface because I knew nothing about her.

And somewhere, at that point, this mythical mirror broke. The devil had entered the lexicon of my life and everything was about to start going downhill. Fast. We’ll call her “A” going forward, the idea of using her name would only give her publicity she doesn’t deserve. Those who know me personally know exactly who she is. Those who don’t, well, does it matter?

In September of 2010 I had suffered a pretty serious broken ankle. I was in a walking boot and walking without crutches by the time November rolled around but I couldn’t take stairs very well and really wasn’t supposed to be doing a lot of walking. “A” lived in a trailer park and there were at least 11 steps to climb on her front porch to get to the door. Therefore, most of our early time together was spent at my house. This meant she had to get a babysitter, as she had two kids, so our time together was further limited because of that fact.

Most of the girls I met I couldn’t wait to get into bed. Oddly enough, “A” and I did not have sex until our THIRD visit. I was trying, but I couldn’t get invested.

I found out why soon enough. Within the first five visits, in fact.

On her fourth visit, she arrived and was talking on her phone when I answered the door. And she proceeded to STAY on the phone for between 30 and 45 minutes. We had plans to go to Walmart and due to the fact that she couldn’t get off the phone, I was ready to just tell her to leave and I would go to the store myself, which I was used to doing. She immediately hung up and informed me that she was talking to her son’s father. I learned that she had a son and daughter, neither had the same father and both of the guys involved were ne’er-do-well’s.

I had a tinge of “you’re making a big mistake” but I let it pass. We walked out to get in her car to go to Walmart. Her car was a car only in the strictest sense of the word. It was a rusted heap, full of garbage, and when it was started, would make an almost “howling” sound that required her to hit it somewhere in the engine block with a hammer to make the noise stop. Lovely. She shoved some of the garbage off the passenger seat so I could find a place to sit and we started out of my driveway. I was on the cusp of a legitimate panic attack.

As we were about four miles down the road, she lit a cigarette. It’s November. The windows are up and the heater is on. Or what passed for a heater. She takes a drag and then proceeds to literally BLOW THE SMOKE right into my face. Now, I don’t think she did this on purpose, I think it was just a reflex reaction. I had no desire to deal with smokers in the first place. But the fact of the matter was, I wanted to say “can you just pull over, please?” Then I could have gotten out and walked home and my life would be a lot better today than it turned out.

But I didn’t. I let it slide. By the time we got to Walmart and she went to check how much she had on her EBT card, I was at the point that I was almost catatonic.

And it must have been obvious, because she asked me what was wrong numerous times. I replied with “nothing” because I had to be able to get home after this.

But did I blow her off when we got back? No. I continued to see her. For reasons I can’t explain. Love? Not even close. In fact, it took me months to utter that word. I don’t know if I was trying to prove something to myself or something to the woman who had challenged me on relationships. But I stuck it out. I could have done better 50 times over, but I just continued to beat my head against the wall and figured eventually it would get better.

Instead, it got WORSE and I still refused to walk away.

In December, we had plans to play NASCAR 07 on the PlayStation 2 because she as a NASCAR fan (she said) and I thought that would be something fun we could do together. She said she had to attend a birthday party before she could come over but she would slip out and come over. I had expected her around 8:00 PM. She didn’t show. Then 9:00 came. Then 10:00. Then 11:00. It wasn’t until midnight that a girl I knew through Facebook messaged me and said “A” was at the bar and was so drunk they had taken her keys away from her. The rage that shot through my mind at this point was palpable. I was done. But I wasn’t.

She had the gall to have some guy CALL ME and tell me that she was sleeping it off in his car, and to tell me that SHE LOVED ME. I was doing a full burn at that point. At the time I had not heard anything about her penchant for cheating so I had no reason to question what I was being told, and it was bad enough that I had to focus on the “facts.”

The next day I told my mom what had happened and like any sensible person, my mom said “well, scratch her off the list. You can do a lot better than that.” I told my best friend who strongly suggested I move on. “A” called later that day, pretending to be upset. I didn’t realize it at the time but subsequent reexamination made me realize she wasn’t upset; she was hungover. If the tears were real, they were probably from a massive headache.

I didn’t walk away. I STAYED. I stayed with a woman I wasn’t overly attracted to, who lived in a run down trailer in a trailer park with two kids with two different guys who didn’t have a job and wasn’t getting child support. And that trash heap of a car? It wasn’t hers. It belonged to her grandparents. And her mom owned the trailer. Wow.

Spring of 2011 the cheating started. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was able to pin it down because every time she cheated she would hit me with coldness for a few days and tell me she “didn’t know what (she) wanted” as far as a relationship. Then, she would let it pass and things went back to normal. This happened at least 30 times.

I can’t say this enough, I was not in love with this woman, I was not overly attracted to her, the sex was alright but I had better. I had been with girls who could have been porn stars. If they ever give medals for oral sex, I know a couple of girls who would win the gold with no question. “A” wouldn’t place. There was just nothing special about her.

Around this same time, I found out her mom was a ex-con who had served 19 months in Federal lockup for embezzlement. Somehow, she managed to get another job (who the hell would hire someone like that?) and, you guessed it, embezzled again. She was caught but not arrested, as she agreed to a restitution plan that involved weekly payments to her ex-employer. And then she got ANOTHER job. Whoever said the job market was weak apparently never tried to get a job with a felony conviction for embezzlement in their past. Quite the family I was involved with, but even then, I still didn’t have the common sense to WALK OUT.

I suffered though 2011, realizing all I was passing up to be in a relationship like this. I felt trapped even though there was NOTHING to stop me from leaving.

Next thing I knew, we had been together for a YEAR. In February 2012, I planned a weekend getaway for us at a four-star hotel with all the extras; breakfasts and dinners at a fancy restaurant, couples massages, the works. It was lost on me that I was basically handing the world to someone who didn’t deserve 1/10 of it, but I was doing it without thinking.

Every few hours “A’s” aunt would call to see if I had PROPOSED yet. I had no intention of proposing. Jesus H. Christ. Was it not enough that I was dating this woman? Now MARRIAGE is on the mind of people involved? Before the weekend was over I was cornered into asking her if she wanted to get married. After I asked and she said yes, I went in the bathroom, got in the shower, sat down and had a full-blown panic attack. I wanted to die.

The wedding was planned for August 2012. I could hear Jonathan Harker (Dracula) in the back of my mind, “I know now the span of my life.” Yes, I was ready to die to avoid this wedding. A wedding I had basically paid for myself, as her mother was supposed to take care of some of the details but when her debit card was declined, guess who got the bill? “A” gave me the invitations to mail. I couldn’t do it. I figured I’d just stuff them under my bed and tell her the post office lost them. I figured I would die before the day came anyway, so it wouldn’t matter. I was legitimately ready to die rather than marry this idiot.

Two weeks before the ceremony, we went to meet with the minister. To quote one of my favorite episodes of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” I sat there with a dead spine, holding up a dead head, and waited for the crack of doom. As of that moment in time I had never been more ready to see my life come to an end. And then, a week later, things changed.

I got a call from the minister. He was quite upset, and told me that he was extremely sorry, but he had accidentally double-booked the church for our “day.” I told him I understood, these things happen, while my whole body broke out in goosebumps and I realized I had gotten a reprieve. I was saved. I hung up with him and burst into tears. I have never, still to this day, ever cried tears of complete, absolute joy. I told my best friend what had happened and we both agreed that I would NEVER marry this woman and this had sealed things.

We stayed together another three months but things were different. I found out later that she started having sex for money (also known as “prostitution”) during this time period. I didn’t care, I just needed to be away from her. Why we were still considered a “couple” is beyond me, but she informed me when she left me that, during the entire month of November 2012, I saw her a total of three (3) times. And I would believe that was totally accurate.

It was around this time she began putting me on the short leash and not allowing me to remain friends with a number of people I had been friends with long before she and I met, including my closest friend and confidant. I didn’t understand at the time why she was doing this to me, but I have subsequently figured out that she was worried that someone was going to finally get through to me that I could do SO much better, and that I would act on it.

She left me in December 2012. I never felt so relieved. I went to her house and packed up my stuff and told her that she did the right thing and I understood and I figured that was the end of it. I think she expected me to fight it because she called me the next night to further drive home why she had done it. I understood, I told her. She did the right thing. I had gotten out of this whole thing relatively unscathed. I could take a couple of months off to get my head straight and either try to meet a girl I actually, you know, LIKED, or I could try to go back to my old ways and socially date. But things were not going to be that simple, I found.

She started seeing some guy she met at a gas station (quite appropriate) and moved him in within hours of me getting my stuff out of there. At this point, she had left the trailer park and moved into her grandmother’s house, which can only be described as a “shack.” I didn’t care. Not about the new boyfriend or the cheating or the lying or any of it. All that mattered to me was that I was free and I could put all of that nonsense behind me.

But we continued to be in contact at various times. She would text. I would find out information I would have been better off not knowing and I would text to verify if it was true. I learned so much I ended up having to have a test for sexually transmitted diseases because this woman was basically a prostitute. She is the textbook definition of “hood rat.”

I began talking to a number of girls at that point. Nice, employed, middle-class girls. The kind of girls I SHOULD have been dealing with. Including one I had went out with in 2010 and was still very much interested in. We all live in a small, rural area and no one can have any secrets, and when “A” got wind of the fact that I was considering going out with this girl again, the whole situation changed. She began trying to reconcile. And not only was I stupid enough to consider it, but I ACCEPTED IT! She waited until a week or maybe 10 days after we agreed to reconcile to break up with her boyfriend. I think, deep down, she wanted us to fight over her. I would have said to him what I have always said to guys who want to fight over women, “I’ll just lay down and you can beat the hell out of me because no woman is worth fighting over.”

I had spent two years of unhappiness with this skank and now I’m walking right back into it again!? How could anyone be so stupid? Knowing everything I did. But on January 23, 2013, we reconciled and became “Facebook official” again. On February 1, I asked her to MARRY ME. I don’t really have any recollection of this, and I’m not just saying that, I think it’s a PTSD thing, I think my mind has blocked it out. I do remember when we found out we were pregnant because I was so excited. I wanted a son and didn’t want to wait until I was 50. But I sincerely have no memory whatsoever of asking that cretin to marry me. I vaguely remember buying her ring, only because it was over $2,000 and instantly maxed out one of my credit cards. Putting a $2,000 ring on the finger of that creature was like putting it on the rotten hand of a corpse.

But it didn’t take long for the old feelings to settle in. My first thought was “how can I be sure the baby is mine?” She would sleep with ANYONE or ANYTHING.

By April, I could feel it in my bones, I had made a HUGE mistake. Not only did I not love “A” but I had a pretty strong dislike for her. Because of the pregnancy I was now supporting her and both of her kids as well as my own self. I was literally paying the bills for four people. I couldn’t IMAGINE living with those people on a full-time basis. My mind was constantly trying to find a way out without coming off looking like the guy who left his pregnant girlfriend.

A friend of mine told me that I should just end the relationship, pregnant or not. Put all of my focus into being the best dad I could and forget “A.” It was advice I wish I had taken, along with a thousand other “why don’t you leave her” suggestions.

Our son was born in October 2013. I was not at the hospital, as I was down with a severe case of pneumonia, I was running a near 103 degree fever, and was told I would not be able to be near my son until the fever broke. So he was nearly five days old before I saw him. But I took an instant love to him, as any normal parent would. But I knew what had to be done, and within a month I got an at-home DNA test and we swabbed the inside of his mouth and mine and shipped them off to Arizona so I could verify that he was, in fact, my son. The fact that I had to do this at all made me sick to my stomach, but that’s the price I had to pay.

The results came in the mail a couple of weeks later. “A” got it while I was at work. She opened it and then later sent me a screen shot and gave me the paperwork that night. I didn’t think much about it at the time but now I wonder if even THAT was legitimate. The paperwork I have certainly looks real, but then, I’m no expert, obviously.

The years 2014 through 2017 are kind of a blur. I had 100% pure happiness in my son. I didn’t like “A.” I hated her daughter.  So let me get into that now.

She has a son who is 17 and, as of November 2017, lived the life of the typical eight year old. He went to school and came home and locked himself in his room and that was his life. No girlfriends. No friends. No hanging outside playing ball or any of the “normal” things kids of that age do. At the age of 17 I had taken the virginity of three girls and was in the midst of a two and a half year relationship. This kid had never had a girlfriend at 16. His mommy cleaned his room for him because he wasn’t capable of getting his clothes to the hamper or his dirty dishes to the sink. And no, he wasn’t mentally retarded or physically disabled. He was LAZY. Part of that was not his fault. His dad is a worthless loser and so is his mother, so he never had a chance.

She also has a daughter who is nine. And it took about two visits in 2011 to realize how much I didn’t like that kid. And I didn’t hide it. That kid was a BRAT. Many times I said she was the worst kid I had ever seen. A perfect example of what that kid is took place in Walmart in 2013. We had went in for groceries and the kid had a meltdown because she didn’t get a toy or DVD. Not that she had any specific toy or DVD in mind that she wanted, she just felt that she was deserving of something. It got to the point that she was rolling around on the ground screaming as “A” dragged her by the arm. I sat the cart aside and said “let’s get out of here.” I was humiliated as people stared at us and no doubt thought that idiot was MY kid since she was as young as she was at that point. No. Absolutely NOT my fucking kid. I was mortified at the idea of someone thinking “that guy’s kid is the worst brat I have ever seen.” I remember “A” posting pics on Facebook of that kid and tagging me in them and people actually thinking that was MY kid. A major argument was had when I untagged the photos because I wanted NO part of that.

Let me also make a strong point of the fact that, when I say I was not at all attracted to “A,” this is not after-the-fact sour grapes, I think she would admit that she knew I was totally NOT attracted to her. I can’t tell you the number of times I was reprimanded because I didn’t tell her how “beautiful” she looked. OK, I’m sorry, but I am who I am. If I think a girl is beautiful, I will tell her. If I don’t, I can’t force myself to. If I am not attracted to someone, that’s not going to change. I have learned, however, that I can go from being attracted or interested in a girl to completely losing it in a matter of less than 24 hours. I mean that feeling of attraction is DEAD and it’s never coming back. That was not an issue with “A.” I never found her attractive enough to make any kind of mention over. She was adequate. Acceptable.

To my knowledge, and based on what I have been able to discover, I don’t think “A” cheated on me at any point between the time our son was born and the summer of 2017. And considering everything I HAVE discovered, I will admit that I am surprised at this. Of course, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, it just means that no one has told me anything.

It was during 2015 that, again, I had to start eliminating friends again. And I’m sure it was for the same reason, someone might get through to me and wisen me up. For some reason, when I’m in a bad relationship, I feel trapped, like I can’t just say “fuck you, I’m done” and leave. I feel like if I do that I am somehow branded the “bad guy” and that I’m going to end up suffering for it somehow, never taking into account the fact that I’m suffering anyway.

My son and I became inseparable. I love him with all that I am. We took pics together constantly that I couldn’t wait to share with my friends on Facebook. There’s nothing like being a dad. Of course, this was not lost on that bastard kid of “A’s,” who didn’t have a dad.

You see, she was the result of a one-night stand her mother had with some unknown guy she met at a bar. Pure class, all the way. I didn’t find out the whole story until just this year. I was told during the time that we were together that “A” just wasn’t in love with the guy and things just weren’t going to work. Not that it was just a drunken hook-up. I don’t know if “A” doesn’t realize she is known as being a hood rat or if she just thinks she can rise above it. The fact is, she can’t. Her reputation precedes her in this county.

By 2017 my time was split 90% with my son and 10% with “A.” The upshot of this was that she started seeing her step-brother on the side. And yes, I mean legitimate step-brother, as in his dad is married to “A’s” mom. What’s amusing is that when he got divorced, “A” and I discussed the details that her mother had told her and I said “he is a weird looking guy,” to which “A” agreed and said that, “in spite of how ugly he is,” he was a really nice guy.

I was at a point in the summer of 2017 that I could see nothing but flaws in “A.” I was truly repulsed by her. Like the sight of her nauseated me. I think this was my brain fighting back against the relationship or a sixth sense that she was cheating again. And my body was turning on me. I couldn’t sleep. I was stress eating. I had ulcers. My immune system was weak and I was sick constantly. My hair was falling out. And I started getting migraine headaches. I honestly felt like my time on earth was drawing to a close because my body was going to give out and there was nothing I could do to fix it. I just needed away from that bitch. Permanently.

But even if she was cheating, I didn’t care. It was all about me and my son. Watching cartoons, playing video games, ordering out pizza, playing outside while I smoked a cigar, going to Walmart, going out to eat, just enjoying ourselves. I was happier than I had been in years from that perspective, I was doing things with someone I loved more than anything.

But on December 5, 2017, everything in my life changed. I was blindsided and nearly ruined. I can’t imagine that I will ever experience a situation this bad again.

On December 4, “A” stopped talking to me. As in, she wouldn’t answer my texts or phone calls. I knew she wasn’t dead because she showed up on Facebook periodically. I had no idea why she wouldn’t respond to me. But on the afternoon of December 5, I found out.

I got a call from the County Sheriff’s office. “A” had filed a protective order against me. I was taken aback. I had never laid a hand on her. For that matter, we had never raised our voices to each other. I had no idea where this was coming from. So I drove to the Sheriff’s office and was served. She was accusing me of EXPOSING MYSELF to her bastard daughter.

I was FLOORED. Not only had I never exposed myself to that kid, I avoided dealing with that kid as much as I possibly could. The protective order said I had taken her into her bedroom on December 1, while “A” was picking up food at McDonald’s, and exposed myself. The red flags immediately popped up. First of all, I had a number of text messages between “A” and myself that proved that there was NO WAY we could have been in the kid’s bedroom, “A” was giving it a complete cleaning and said it was such a mess, the floor was covered in toys, and it would take days to complete. More to the point, I was ill that day, I had a pretty severe sinus and ear infection and went home early that night to medicate and lay on the heating pad. Naturally, my doctor could have testified to this had it come to that.

Even better, I had posted some Chicago White Sox stories on Facebook, and these were date and time stamped.

In addition, “A’s” son and my son were both there, I saw both of them while she was gone, the older son had made a few trips to the kitchen and, when he was questioned by authorities, said he had never seen me in any situation with the kid, let alone exposing myself.

The day after the supposed exposure, the little bastard was seen by a number of people at a family karaoke night and she was just acting like herself. It started to sink in that I was being set up, but I didn’t know the reason or why anyone would go this far to destroy me.

I went to the CPS office later that week and talked to the guy handling the “case.” My first thought upon meeting him was “closet homosexual.” He had that vibe. He questioned me about everything under the sun except the actual act of exposure, until I was ready to walk out the door. He informed me that he “thought” I was going to MASTURBATE in front of the kid. I wondered what kind of a sick fuck would even think something like that, but I was looking right at him. He had the look of a sewer rat and I couldn’t wait to get him into court.

Family Court in January. It was nothing more than a kangaroo court. The judge approved the protective order, which literally took my son away from me. Even though I had extensive evidence to prove my innocence (the text messages, the time issue, a witness (“A’s” son), my own sworn statement, and the fact that I am above reproach, legally.

The CPS “investigator” was supposed to show up and testify to what he had learned in questioning that lying kid. But he didn’t bother to show up. The judge called him and he testified OVER THE PHONE. To this day, I can’t tell you exactly what he testified to other than “a disclosure was made” that he would not elaborate on other than to constantly repeat that statement even when questioned by the judge, and he told the judge, point blank, that he was planning to file charges against me “next week.” That was January 9, 2018. I am writing this essay on August 29, 2018. Not a single charge was ever filed. And based almost SOLELY on the CPS “investigator’s” announcement of pending charges, the protective order was granted for six moths.

That’s right. I was never charged with ANYTHING. I lost my son even though I was not charged with ANY crime whatsoever, either in Family Court or Criminal Court. And I have NO recourse. That’s the law. These fuckers can literally conspire to ruin me, take my son from me and not be held accountable for anything. At least not legally. If I ever run into that CPS faggot he may find that the bill has come due and I’ll be taking what’s owed to me in blood.

I walked out of that courtroom defeated and angry and dead inside.

I then started to learn things. Her cheating with her cockeyed, donkey-toothed step-brother, for instance. She wanted to lie about it in court but amazingly, she admitted to it. After court, I learned more than I could have ever wanted to know. I have messed around with exactly 40 women in my life. I absolutely guarantee you she has been with 10 times that many men.

One of the more unpleasant things I learned was that she had been fired from a job at a local gas station prior to my meeting her for having sex with various guys in the back of the store. No one had bothered to tell me this in 2010, when I met her, or 2013 when we reconciled. It was at that point that I realized what kind of reputation she had and how much of an ass I was making out of myself dating this creature. I was overcome with embarrassment at that and a sadness that crushed my soul at the loss of my son. The only time I had ever felt love.

And then it hit me. That bastard kid had been very unhappy over me getting my son a PlayStation 4. And that was on top of the fact that I bought him everything he ever wanted. She didn’t have a dad to get her anything. But where would a kid of that age get the idea to tell someone that I had exposed myself to her? As I sat and talked to the Deputy Sheriff who was investigating, it started to make sense. He told me he had wondered if maybe she was being abused by her brother. There had been weirdness going on there from day one, anyway. I had walked in the trailer in 2011 and heard him, at 12 years old, in the shower with her, at six, singing “Old McDonald Has A Penis.” Who lets a 12 year old shower with a six year old?

Everything started falling into place. I was thrown under the bus to get revenge for my lack of interest in being a father to this bastard kid and “A” needed to cover for her son as well as getting me out of the picture so she could pursue things with her rat-looking step-brother. Everyone knew I was 100% innocent of anything I had been accused of, but CPS had a show to put on. That kangaroo court had to look like it was looking out for the children! And if we destroy some innocent guy’s life to do that? Well, that’s just collateral damage.

As I mentioned earlier, I was deathly sick when my son was born. Because of that, I wasn’t able to sign his birth certificate. This cost me DEARLY in the long run. I had asked that we go in so I could sign it on a number of occasions but “A” told me I could sign it when I signed her bastard kid’s. She was blackmailing me. Naturally, I wasn’t stupid enough to do something like that. I knew what a worthless piece of garbage “A” was, and her reason for having me sign was that so when she left me she could file for child support for both kids rather than just mine. She wanted to put on this show that she was respectable and had a cute little “family.” Well, you can’t turn a whore into a housewife and people like her don’t have “families.”

So I never got to sign my son’s birth certificate. The upshot of that is, she can legally keep him from me and there’s nothing I can do until she files for child support and a state-approved DNA test is done. This immediately got me thinking, maybe he isn’t mine, and that’s why she made a big deal of getting to the DNA test we had in 2013 first. If he is mine, she is just trying to make me suffer even though she knows I didn’t do ANYTHING to deserve any of this.

But she has proven to me that she is more interested in self-preservation and covering her own “reputation” and that of her kids over anything else. A close friend of mine that I have known for over 35 years once told me that “A’s” son had a reputation at school for being “weird.” When I told “A” this, she EXPLODED at me. She said her son was NOT weird but, of course, could offer no evidence in spite of the fact that kids were quite clear in describing him that way. When I tried to tell her that her bastard kid was the worst kid I have ever seen, she would trip over her own words trying to defend that creature. Even though she knew better. This kind of blind defense of people, even children, makes absolutely no sense.

My first mistake was talking to “A” in the first place. My second mistake was allowing her into my home. My third was actually becoming involved with her. And it just continues on from there. Not leaving the 1,200 times I had reason to. Not leaving the 1,500 times I just WANTED to. Handing her wads of money when trailer trash like her doesn’t know the value of a dollar. Not doing whatever it took to sign my son’s birth certificate.

One thing I do hate to admit, but am going to since this piece is “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God,” I had been planning a way to end the relationship for months before this illegitimate protective order was thrust upon me; in fact, in family (kangaroo) court, I had my attorney ask “A” if she had, in fact, purchased any Christmas presents for me at the time I was served, and she said she had.  Whether that’s truth or not is irrelevant because the fact is, I had bought my son nearly $400 worth Christmas toys, including a PlayStation Vita with SpongeBob SquarePants and Minecraft games.  And what had I bought “A?”  Literally nothing, because I had no intention of being around her by the time Christmas arrived.  In fact, I prayed for it.  But, as the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.  I got rid of the ugly skank and her bastard kid, once and for all, but I had to fight for my reputation and prestige, I had to be humiliated in front of the entire county who may or may not have been aware I was dating someone this lowdown and pathetic, and most of all, I had to give up my son.  I wouldn’t have made the bargain based on that, but I wanted out and I got out, and those who know me well never once questioned my innocence.

I was so miserable with this piece of garbage that, six months before she left me, I blocked her on my phone from being able to call or text me because she had complained of me texting during the day.  And I’m talking about texting her memes and things. Of course, one now has to account for the fact that she’s deeply involved in cheating so it was probably a real drag to be waiting for a text from her cockeyed, inbred-looking stepbrother once he managed to slobber out a text to send and it turns out to be ME, that was probably a real downer.

And I don’t want anyone to think I have anything personal against her stepbrother, because I don’t.  I would have told you two years ago (and did tell “A”) that I think he’s an ugly, redneck, cockeyed, bucktoothed, ridiculous piece of shit. He just has that look of being the “missing link,” almost, the not quite human look, like maybe you could teach him five basic words of English and maybe he could learn to wipe his own ass.

I have spent the past eight months trying to rebuild my life, and I’ve been quite successful at it. My business is growing exponentially, I have reconciled with many friends that “A” wouldn’t allow me to have friendships with, I am slowly getting my health back under control and starting to lose weight. My mental health is strong again and I can actually sleep.

I am a long way from ever dating again. I have had a myriad of opportunities since this all went down and accepted a few of them, none of which went anywhere and just further salted away my lack of interest in relationships and marriage. People continually tell me that the “right girl” is out there for me but at this stage, with everything that has befallen me, I hope she finds someone else because I’m not going to be a good option for her.

I’ll make the most of what’s left of my life. I’ll be as happy as life will allow me to be. I’ll do my best not to make any further mistakes. I’ll do what I can to forget these past eight years ever happened, and continue to wipe any hint of “A” out of my life as I find them. I have went over my Facebook profile with a fine-tooth comb and eliminated any mention of her. I want it to be like we never met. And if I could wind the clock back, we wouldn’t.

Since I’ve lost my son, the only thing I have taken away from all of this is that I have finally, after all these years, experienced what pure, unfiltered HATRED feels like. The kind of hate that has no soft edge or tender center. The kind of disgust that just makes me want to go take a lengthy shower just for thinking about these people, especially for this long. One of the things I used to laugh to myself about was as quickly as I could get out of that shack, I headed straight home and straight to the shower, just to try to wash the skank off of myself.

I wish I could say there was a reason for all of this. I wish I could say that love or something played some role in it. I never loved “A” at any point in the seven years we were supposed to be a “couple.” I tolerated her and I think she tolerated me. She tolerated me because it paid the bills and gave her money to spend. I don’t know why I tolerated her. Other than my son, I got nothing out of that relationship, other than misery, aggravation and constant disgust. Whatever the reason, I will never forgive myself. Some mistakes we can brush off and some mistakes can be difficult to deal with, but I made a mistake of epic proportions that nearly cost me everything and I don’t even have a reason as to why I made that mistake. That is stupidity at the highest level. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, but I will overcome this.

I know this is incredibly long but I wanted to be thorough and leave no important facts out of the story. Like I said, its a story that deserved to be told in it’s entirety and in it’s full form of truth. I stand by every word of this piece, as God is my witness. May I drop dead if there’s one untruth in this entire post. I now hope to not have to mention that rat fucker “A” or that bastard kid of hers again as long as I live. This will be my answer to anyone who questions anything about that time period. For me, it is now over. I have survived the seven years of bad luck from that broken mirror I don’t remember breaking.

Maybe someday, as everyone says, I’ll meet my soulmate. I suppose anything is possible, and I know its more likely to happen when I’m not looking for it. But if I spend the rest of my life alone, I can think of worse things. I lived one of them from 2010 through 2017. Alone is a blessing beyond words compared to that miserable, horrible relationship. I asked for nothing from “A,” and boy did I get it, except for my son. For him, I’ll be grateful, but it’s hard to be when he isn’t part of my life just so some white trash can try to get ahead of me.

In closing, let me address “A” directly, because even though she will more than likely never see this, maybe someone, somewhere, will pass this along to her: You are a miserable, lying, good-for-nothing, beaver-toothed, cockeyed, worthless, cheating, inbred-looking, step-sibling fucking, chicken fucking, dirt bag, trash can whore, hood rat, piece of shit. You set me up. You threw me under the bus. For what reason, I’ll never know. Maybe so you could have that inbred half-retarded looking step-brother of yours (which didn’t last long). Maybe just to be rid of me because you couldn’t stand me as much as I couldn’t stand you. Maybe you needed a scapegoat to keep your son from getting in trouble and I was the easy mark. Maybe you had gotten wind of the fact that I was planning to leave, as I was pretty open about it with people and you can’t have secrets in this county. Maybe you figured you needed to go first and you wanted to “punish” me by getting me into trouble with the authorities for something I didn’t do. Whatever the reason, I thank you for going away but hate you for eternity for the way you did it.

My hatred for you will go with me to the grave. I have been told repeatedly to let it go, karma would get them, and maybe it has already started.

I laugh at the idea of ever even considering marrying or living with you. I needed to get away from you years ago. But I couldn’t leave my son. At least, I hope he’s my son. That is the ultimate question that will follow me for the next 14 years until he’s old enough to get away from those people and hopefully he can grow into a normal young man, though I imagine that would be difficult considering how his half-brother grew up. There’s a sickness in that house. A sickness of mind. A sickness of life. Like an overbearing, life-draining sickness.

A,” I have few regrets in my life, but I can honestly say that 100% of the time I spent with you I recall regretfully. Time spent with you and our son is passable. Time spent with our son I treasure. All I want is to forget you. Permanently, and without recollection.

From this point forward, I am going to do my best to let it go but having my son taken from me, even though I never did anything wrong and was never accused of anything involving my son, is not only going to be difficult, but borderline impossible. I can’t watch Batman anymore, or play the games or watch the shows we used to watch because it’s too painful. Oddly enough, I can watch anything I used to watch with “A” and I don’t even have any flashbacks or even think about the fact that I had watched anything with “A,” so she is already being forgotten on that level. And for that, I am thankful. There was never much substance to “us” anyway.

So, there it is. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Admittedly, this is the story from my side. I couldn’t care less about her side, her feelings or her situation. It has nothing to do with me. This is my life and this is my story. As it happened.

Thank you for taking the time to read, I appreciate anyone who took the time.  I will never mention these people again, as it is humiliating to have to admit I ever dealt with such garbage.  I just wanted to put my side of the story out publicly in God’s truth so the few who may not believe me, or may not have wanted to, can now see the facts of the matter.  I just want this era of my life to be forgotten.  I thank God every day it is over, now I just want it dumped in the trash where it belongs.

God bless.

Single. Staying That Way. No, You Cannot Change My Mind. End Of Discussion.

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Recently, I announced my decision to take myself off the dating grid for at least a year. I was at the breaking point trying to explain to women that I am in no position mentally to be involved in a relationship at this time, or to date anyone exclusively, or even once, for that matter. The past has not been kind to me and I needed time to lick my wounds and let them heal before I even considered trying dating or a relationship again.

This decision has been met with ridicule and “threats” of “I’ll be the one that can make you change your mind.” Therefore, I felt a public service announcement was in order, because sometimes you just can’t get through to people by normal means.

First, let me explain what brought me to this point. I recently got out of a situation that was so rancid and repulsive that I sincerely thought it was going to be the death of me. The physical and emotional toll were heavy. I put on 80 pounds through stress eating, my hair was falling out, I was sick all the time due to my immune system not functioning properly due to stress, I had stomach ulcers, I had the shakes, I couldn’t sleep, my eyes were constantly twitching and I was suffering from severe migraine headaches that lasted for hours. All things considered, its a miracle I am alive.

Once that was over, I kept most women at arm’s length and took few into my confidence or took much interest in them. But there was one extreme exception to that rule. A girl I met on Facebook caught my eye and my attention and we agreed to go out. We did, spent several hours talking and eating and walking and I started to fall for her fast. We had a second date, and spent some time hanging out at my house and watched a movie. I was completely and totally smitten with this girl.

Within a week of that she started ghosting me and I have heard not a single word from her since July 5. So, the one woman I was allowing myself to fall for was a complete and total flake. This just further proved my point that it was time to walk away.

So, to every woman in the world who isn’t married or engaged or spoken for, no, I have no interest in dating you right now. It doesn’t matter if you’re the lowest form of scum or the most beautiful woman in the world. The answer is no. Period.

Part of this stems from the area in which I live. I live in north central West Virginia, and its just as bad as the national media portrays it. A large percentage of the women here are literally disgusting. I’m talking toothless, cockeyed, covered in meth sores, living in run-down shacks, tripping over rats and carrying who-knows-what kind of STDs.

And most women in this area seem to “recycle” boyfriends, i.e. they make a habit of just trading boyfriends around and infecting each other. That kind of thing makes me sick to even think about and totally turns me off to ever putting my hands on another woman. Thought I would have definitely made an exception for the girl mentioned earlier.

I also refuse to do long-distance relationships because, quite honestly, they’re ridiculous. Why would I want to “date” someone I never see? I’m way too needy for that.

Yes, I have myself in kind of a catch-22 here. I don’t want to date any local trash but I also don’t want to date anyone who isn’t local. Do you see the pattern here?

I don’t want to date.

I want to spend the rest of my summer enjoying myself. Watching baseball. Working. Smoking the finest cigars. Going for drives. Upgrading my office and doing work on my PC and my gaming systems. Working on my baseball card collection. As well as things that are a little more simple, like I want to spend some time not being miserable.

During the month that I was talking to the flake who ghosted me, I legitimately thought I might be able to be happy again with a significant other. I’m not sure how that happened, or why I would have thought something so ridiculous at that point. But now that I know better, I know better than to let chance have the opportunity to do it to me again.

Everyone should make themselves happy before they even consider making anyone else happy. I know at this point that I have been so disconnected from myself for so many years that I just need some time to get used to being myself again. Doing the things I have always loved but couldn’t do. Just being me and not having to do for anyone else.

Now, I need to say, this is not about selfishness. I think that down the road I’ll be a better man than the man I am now and that will, in turn, be better for whomever I eventually end up with, whether that’s next year or a decade from now. At this point, I’m a broken man and I’m not going to be good for anything to anyone. Who would want that?

In closing, I want to reiterate that no, I will not be changing my mind about this decision and no one on this earth is going to tell me what to do when it comes to my dating and social life. It’s not up for debate. It’s my life and I’ll do with it what I want. No one is going to change my mind or make me alter my plans. Only death can do that at this point.

Thank you for reading and God bless.

The Experience Of Love…

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This is a difficult piece to write, but timely, given the fact that it has been the topic of many recent conversations.  Not in specifics, but in the generalities of love.

I have, however, put this blog together in my mind a thousand times.  As I talked with people who tell me they have experienced love, I find it not only fascinating, but I also find it to be baffling.  And I wonder what’s wrong with me that I’ve never been able to experience these feelings with anyone.  It’s like someone is speaking Greek.

Now, when I talk of “love,” I am referring to the love of a boyfriend to a girlfriend or a husband to a wife.  Not love of family, of children or of parents, or even the love of a good friend.  I am talking strictly of love with no prior, or no blood, connection.

This idea amazes me because not only have I never experienced feeling that way about someone but no one has ever felt that way about me.  And that’s the part I had so much trouble understanding.  Love has to be a two-way street.  No way around it.

So as I have talked to others about their concepts and experiences with love, I realize I have literally never experienced this emotion.  Or really anything close to it.

I spoke to someone recently who said when you’re in love, you never want to leave the side of the person you are in love with and when you have to, you cannot wait to return.  You swell up inside when you see them.  You can’t stop thinking about them.  In a way, they become your life.  Or, they become the most important thing in your life.

First, to address “never wanting to leave the side of the person you’re with.”  I can say in all honesty I have never been around a significant other for more than 48 hours at a time and by then I was ready to get away as fast as my feet could carry me.  I believe very much in the old saying, “familiarity breeds contempt” because it is so easy for me to just get literally sick of someone to the point I don’t care if I ever see them again or not.  I can honestly say, in every long-term relationship I have ever been in, all I could think about was getting away, putting distance between us and showering as quickly as possible.

I can’t imagine being around anyone 24/7 and actually wanting to and anyone actually wanting to be around me that much.  The closest I ever came to that would have been in high school, and that was more that she wanted me around to keep an eye on me.

Next, to address “when you’re away, you can’t wait to return.”  I don’t think that far in advance.  If I’m going to be away, I’m away for a reason and that reason will be the point of my focus.  I’m certainly not saying I haven’t looked forward to seeing a woman or two or ten in my time, but I am saying that I’ve never been in a situation where I couldn’t wait to see a woman again.  No woman ever held my interest to that degree.

This idea may have been more of a byproduct of marriage than anything else, and since I have never been (nor ever will be) married, then it doesn’t apply to me anyway.

Next, to address “you swell up inside when you see them.”  I don’t understand that at all.  I do understand feeling panic, nausea, aggravation and stress when seeing someone, as I have experienced every one of those with various women over the years.  I guess you could also say I understand the opposite, because I have felt deflated at seeing some girls.

I have felt a feeling of joy and pride when I see my son, so I am assuming it is some kind of offshoot of that feeling.  I just can’t imagine feeling that way about a woman.  Wow.

Finally, to address “you can’t stop thinking about them.”  I have experienced this, but I am pretty sure its in a totally different context.  I’ve cried, I’ve been sick and I’ve been in a state of almost catatonic depression and been unable to think about nothing else than a few women I have known, but I am pretty sure that doesn’t count.  I think this was meant to say that love means thinking nice thoughts about someone, not “I wish you would go away and never darken my life again,” because that one is consistent for me.

I have had dreams about girls while I was dating them, and that stretches as far back as I can remember, but the dreams themselves were usually based on my getting away from them, so I think even subconsciously I was working from that depressed point of view.  These dreams usually involved me being in a “last man on Earth” type of scenario, which meant the women in question had basically disappeared and I was unable to find them.

Now, understand, I am not saying in any way that love isn’t a real experience and maybe it even lasts a lifetime.  I’m not trying to put the concept of love down, or say it doesn’t exist.  I’m simply saying it has never existed for me.  All of this is completely and totally off base with me.  I have never experienced any type of feelings even close to these.

I’m also not saying its not feasible that I could “fall in love” in the future, but at this point, as jaded and disinterested as I am in this whole thing, as well as the fact that I make myself as inaccessible as possible, I think the odds are greatly in my favor that I will never have to deal with this kind of thing.  But, there’s a chance I could be wrong.

For those who have experienced it, I’m sure love is an amazing thing, because it sounds like it would be.  I just don’t think its for me.  I like to think of myself as the ultimate lone wolf, and I’ve always felt that way.  I’ve been anti-marriage all my life.  That will never change.  I can’t imagine being married, but I guess if you actually were in love with someone who was in love with you, marriage would make sense.  I don’t see it.

So, going forward, I am happy just to feel the love of friends who care about me and family that I still have contact with who care.  It could be worse.  It’s not like I’m an island unto myself or anything.  And as the popular saying goes, you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else, and I’m still kind of working on that part.

And if I never experience what its like to love a woman and have her love me in return, well, I guess that was just God’s will.  And I certainly would not question that.  If a couple of years down the road I meet a woman who fits the bill, then I would be open to it.  I’m not ready to call it a day just yet, though I am for the rest of this year.  And if I miss a chance that comes along in 2018, well, that’s on me.  But I think everything happens for a reason and if I’m supposed to be with someone someday, it will work itself out.

Peace.

Relationships: An Outsider’s Perspective

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As I was visiting with my mom a couple of days ago, she broached a subject I was hoping we would not have to discuss:  Relationships.  The reason I hate discussing this with her is that I don’t need to be reminded that my taste in women is atrocious and that every time I have been in what would loosely be termed “a relationship,” I passed up a lot of better options to settle for far less than I deserved every single time.  I know all of this, and have to live with it, but she feels the need to remind me.

But this discussion was different.  It wasn’t about my poor choices and stupid mistakes of the past, it was about the future.  And I had not given much thought to the future.  I have been living with a day-to-day perspective throughout 2018, and the idea of thinking a day or a week or a month ahead isn’t something I had been doing to any extent.

I have, however, discussed it a bit with my two closest confidants at times.

The last time I was single for an extensive period of time, I had a list of rules to help me weed out the losers from the potential winners.  It wasn’t the type of rules that most people think of (specific height, weight, hair color, etc.) but was more guidelines to separate the trash from the treasures, i.e. “must have a job,” “must have a car” and “no crazy ex’s.”  The kind of thing a nice, middle-class girl should have.

The problem with that kind of thinking is that I looked past the more obvious points I should have been considering, like “is this someone I can stand being around for more than a couple of hours?”  Or, “is this someone I could marry in the future?”

To make matters worse, I not only totally disregarded those obvious questions but threw my guidelines away as well and settled for everything I never wanted.

This time around, I’m smart enough to put everything into perspective.

To put it a little more simply, as I said to one of my confidants a couple of days ago, “I want a woman I can’t live without, not a woman I can’t live with.”  Which means I not only want a woman who fits the obvious prerequisites (mutual attraction, mutual interests, etc.) as well as my own personal requirements (the aforementioned job and car, etc.), but also now fits the questions I should have been asking all along.

Obviously, this is going to thin the herd down to pretty much nothing.  And I’m OK with that.  Because at this point, at 40 years old, I shouldn’t have to settle for anything less than I actually want, and I am perfectly and totally happy as things stand.

So, I sat down again with mom today and said “at this point, given everyone I have met and where everything stands, no, I’ll never be in a relationship again.  Granted, that could change tomorrow depending on who I meet, but right now, no.”

If I don’t see a future with someone, I’m not going to waste the present on them.  It isn’t fair to me and at my age, I’m ready to either settle down with someone, or settle down alone.  And since I am living pretty comfortably right now, I see no reason to change that for someone unless she is going to be a permanent part of my life.

I wish everyone would adopt my philosophy, as a lot fewer bad relationships would result and the dramatics that result from those bad relationships wouldn’t happen.  Of course, I realize some people thrive on bad relationships, as a way of getting attention online or from friends.  Realize that this isn’t healthy or good for anyone.

I am going forward, alone or not, the wheels will roll.  If there’s someone out there that is my “forever,” then eventually I’ll meet her.  If not, I’m going to be happy and enjoy my life anyway.  I don’t need anyone to completely me, I’m a complete person, as is.  But I am not closing the door to anything that may develop down the road.

There is White Sox baseball to watch, fine cigars to be smoked, excellent food and whiskey to be consumed and life to be lived.  And that’s what I’m doing.  I’m not settling for less than the best in any facet of my life going forward.  Ever again.

Peace.

My Thoughts On The Anti-Valentine’s Day Sentiment…

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There seems to be more and more anti-Valentine’s Day backlash every year by the single community, to the point of calling it “Singles Awareness Day.”  With this being my first single Valentine’s Day in seven years (and only the second in the past 12 years) I think I am in a bit of a unique position to see things from a very different perspective.

Yes, Valentine’s Day reeks of commercialism and it puts a lot of people on the spot who normally wouldn’t want to do the things that Valentine’s Day requires.  Some people hate to spend money on anyone but themselves.  Some people hate to spend money.

But you know what’s worse than spending Valentine’s Day single?  Spending Valentine’s Day in a relationship with someone who hates you and that you hate in return.

Imagine being in an unhappy relationship when V-Day rolls around.  Imagine that no matter what you do, it’s wrong and unappreciated.  Of course, you get used to that when everything you do every day is wrong and unappreciated, but it has a little extra sting on Valentine’s Day.  Add the requisite complaining and that makes for a great holiday.

Naturally, the perfect Valentine’s Day would be spent with someone you love who loves you in return, and those of us who are single won’t have that.  But spending the day and night alone is a lot better than some of the other options, you can take that to the bank.

Take my advice, and be happy if you’re single on Valentine’s Day.  It’s not perfect, but it’s not the worst situation you could find yourself in.  Appreciate yourself and be glad there’s no one around to ruin February 14th for you, year in and year out.  If you’re legitimately happy being single, be your own Valentine.  If you’re miserable being single, quit complaining about it and do something about it.  Meet someone.  Fall in love.

But if you’re like me, and you’re just happy to be alive and you’re happy for those who are in love and have someone to share their lives with, don’t take away anyone else’s enjoyment of the day.  I’ll take single V-Day over miserable V-Day every single year.

Peace.

A Manifesto On Marriage

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This blog entry is going to offend some people, especially those who are in a happy marriage.  I want to preface this piece by saying that these opinions are mine, and mine alone.  I have carried these beliefs with me since I was at least 15 years old, regardless of what life may have been putting in front of me and what mistakes I made, or was able to avoid, for that matter, over the ensuing 25 years.

There are a couple of quotes that helped to craft my views of marriage.  The first was in the film North To Alaska, when John Wayne’s character, Sam McCord, said “a wonderful thing about Alaska is that matrimony hasn’t hit up here yet.  Let’s keep it a free country.”  The second was compliments of legendary British comedian Benny Hill, who sang “why make one woman miserable when you can make so many so happy?”

I do need to point out that I have never been married, so this is not going to be a hit piece about an unhappy marriage.  This is simply going to be my thoughts on the institution of marriage, and why, deep down, I would have never even consider marrying.

There have been three times that I have had marriage pushed at me, and all three times were ludicrous, in their own way.  And together, they brought me to this point in my life.

My first experience with marriage began when I was 17 years old.  Yes, 17.  I was having marriage pushed at me by a 15 year old I was dating at the time.  Fortunately, I was kicked to the curb at 19 and was able to avoid that situation before it would have been feasible.  But it was a bad omen.

The second time I had to deal with this was in 2005, and this is where not getting married was cast in stone for me, though I didn’t realize that until just recently.  The woman in this case lived nearly four hours away, and we were not dating or in any kind of relationship whatsoever.  She wanted a husband, period.  Didn’t matter who, didn’t matter where.  When I told her I did not love her and did not want to marry her, she simply said “you’ll learn to love me.”  Luckily for me, some idiot did finally marry her and I can only imagine the hell he must be living.

My final experience started well enough, I had just had sex with a woman nine years older than me (she was 37, I was 28) and as we lay there she said “I’m just going to tell you now, I’m never getting married again.”  This, of course, allured my interest, as we knew nothing about each other and had met only three hours earlier.  So, if she was not interested in marriage, to the extent that I was not as well, we definitely had solid footing beneath us in terms of our futures.  However, that was short-lived and within six months I was having ads from jewelry stores shoved in my face on a daily basis.

Now I don’t want to just outline my own experiences as to why I think marriage is dreadful, I want to look at some actual facts and figures that support my theory.

First, let’s remember that half of all marriages end in divorce.  That is mathematical fact.  Let’s also remember that a majority of women marry men of a higher economic status.  That means that in a community property state, women are coming out of the marriage a lot better off than they went into it and men are coming out a lot worse off.  And in an unhappy marriage, remember this:  If you leave, you pay.  If she leaves, you pay.  This was especially significant to me, as all four of my “marriage experiences” were of a lower economic status than I, which left me to wonder if their interest in me was real, or if it was purely mercenary.

Second, people change over time.  There’s a reason the early, happy days of anything are known as the “honeymoon” period.  In today’s world, the honeymoon period can be over before the marriage even begins.  The days of people rushing into marriage, while still happening, are not as prevalent as they were in previous generations.  We know more about each other for longer periods of time than we did in the past.  And that can be a blessing.  It allows us to not make the mistakes that may have been made in days gone by.

Third, and probably most important, takes me back to my younger days.  I believed (and still do) in the concept of “social dating.”  Rather than dating someone exclusively and letting numerous other opportunities pass by, date someone new every time you go out.  I did this and it was the happiest year of my life.  I got to spend time with a lot of different women, I had a lot of great experiences and lived a lifetime in one year.

However, I found this is frowned upon by society in general.  My sister, who lives beside of me, called me one Sunday afternoon after seeing four different cars with four different women in my driveway over a 36-hour period.  She told me how horrible this was and that I should go out with one girl and see if I “fell in love” with her and if not, then move onto the next one, and so on.

This sounded absolutely absurd to me.  I likened it to test driving a car.  You don’t go out and buy a car and drive it for a couple of weeks and then decide if you like it.  You test drive it, as well as other cars that catch your interest, and then decide which one is best for you.  To me, the idea of dating someone exclusively to see if you like them or not is like walking in a circle and wondering why you haven’t left the room.

Yes, this idea flies in the face of conventional thinking.  But I always made my intentions known from the beginning.  We were going on a date, or we were having an evening at my place.  Everything was open and aboveboard, and the only thing that was ruled out was a relationship, especially after one date, regardless of how well everything went.  I was told at the time, however, that women would try to “stake a claim” on me, and that did, in fact, happen, in spite of my directives.

Sex played a role in this, of course, but it went far beyond that.  As long as there is a mutual physical attraction, sex can happen regardless of the circumstances.  You don’t have to have anything in common, or even have a good time with them outside of the bedroom, to have a good time sexually.  But spending time together on a platonic level put me in a position to want to meet more and more women.  The sex was a given; I wanted to also enjoy myself sitting and watching a movie with someone and then know that, when the date was over, they were walking out the door and leaving.

The concept of socially dating is completely at odds with the concept of marriage, but in my opinion, so is the concept of being happy.  Unless you believe in soulmates, and you happen to somehow meet yours, and you are truly, 100% totally in love with them, and you can stand being around them between 12 and 24 hours a day, every day, for the rest of your life or you can stand the idea of half of everything you own walking out the door with them when the marriage fails, then I don’t see anything to be gained from getting married, at least from the male point of view.

From personal experience, I have yet to meet anyone that I could spend so much time with that I would not have to get away from them at some point.  The man cave came into existence for this very reason.  The very definition of a man cave is “a male retreat or sanctuary,” which is specifically for getting away from the man’s wife.  When you need to get away from your wife, and have a special room to do so, that tells you that you may need to look into getting away from her permanently.  Women can be insufferable, so why invite one into your life on a permanent basis which is legally binding and may cost you dearly when she leaves or you ask her to leave?

I prefer solitude, I like my own company much, much more than the company of anyone else.  Now, don’t misunderstand, that’s not to say I don’t enjoy anyone’s company, because I do enjoy the company of friends from time to time and that can be either platonically or sexually.  But at the end of the day, if it came down to being alone or being with anyone else, anyone of my choosing even if they were completely out of my league, I would choose to be alone.

Though if Rihanna asked if she could move in, I may make an exception in that case…

I jest, of course.  Though an extended stay would certainly not be out of the question.

I see marriage very similarly to a prison.  You lose your freedom.  You lose your possessions.  You lose your ability to think for yourself.  You lose your ability to make the most basic of decisions because you have someone else standing over you whose one goal in life, is to mold you into the person they want you to be, not to accept you for the person you are.  I find that whole idea to be nothing short of horrifying.

Looking back, had I ever gotten married, I don’t think I would be alive today.  I couldn’t even begin to imagine married life.  I would have basically given up everything, and to make matters worse, I would have been marrying someone I was not in love with and who didn’t love me for me, the upshot of which was I would have had to change.  And I have no desire to do so, now or in the future.  Any of those three options would have been horrible, and I am so fortunate that the concept of marriage hasn’t been breached in my life since 2009.  I intend to keep it that way for as long as I walk this Earth.

Through the grace of God, luck and intelligence on my behalf, my record is clean and “divorce” will never be a word that will have to run through my life’s story.  And neither will “marriage.”  I have no problem with relationships, even long-term relationships.  But once you sign your life over to someone, once you put in writing that you are now someone’s “property” until you die or they decide to toss you over for a better offer, you have put yourself into a position that there is no positive outcome with, and several negatives outcomes that far outweigh any happiness you would find.

In closing, let me say that, if you are married and happy, God bless you.  Ignorance is bliss.  If you are married and unhappy, then you have fallen into the trap and I hope you have a good prenuptial agreement, and even then, they are not necessarily binding, so when the end comes, be ready to lose your shirt and a lot more.  If you are not married and considering it, please read and re-read this post.  Take into account everything I have said, everything that could happen going forward.  You think before you step in front of a moving car, because we know what the result of that will be.  Well, “walking down the aisle” has an end result as well, and we know the chances that it will end badly are equal to the chances it will end well.  And if you’re like me, and you haven’t been married and are not going to in the future, then congratulations, you’re on the right track in life.  Keep going, and enjoy yourself.  There’s a world out there, don’t tie yourself down and miss it.  Don’t look back on your life with regrets about choices that you didn’t have to make in the first place.  Make the most of your life and of yourself.  Live it up.

Peace.