Men like me don’t like a lot of rules. I used to be a free thinker, a radical, a loose cannon whom was beholden to nothing. Somewhere over the last five years I lost all that. I became boring and predictable, beholden to a set of rules and regulations of my own design. I develop a rigorous schedule that revolved around various television programs that cost me my marriage and my happy life. Not entirely but it hurt quite a bit. I did this in part, because I felt it was needed to keep my wife-y happy. I assumed (falsely) that being wild and out of control would only lead me to this very place where I am now. I thought if I hid in the house there was no chance of me being accused of looking for another lover, or drunkenly finding one. This of course was used against me. Instead my love was wild and out of control and found her-self looking for another lover, rather than appreciating the stability and faithfulness I offered. Had I kept up my wild ways I would most likely still have a relationship. Albeit, a more volatile unstable one. And I would have missed out on all y favorite shows.
The other half of why I chose to “calm it down” was because I was getting old. Yes I know there is a school of thought that your 30s aren’t old, but I am not among those. I feel that is self-delusion, and although I favor certain self-deceptions, that is not among them. I know that the younger me would look at the current me and see nothing but an old worn-out man with nothing to offer. I have lost a lot of the luster and fun that made the young me who I was. I have given up on dreams of revolution and freedom and settled in to the reality of monotony. I no longer feel it is possible to change the world or better yet human nature. My anarchy has given way to Nihilism, my fervent drive to shatter the status quo has fallen to apathy of old age. 34 (35 in a few months) is very, very, very old. I have abused my body with drugs and alcohol long enough to know that this body will not hold up for much longer. I am already past middle age for this frame. Unless of course, I have pickled my innards to the point of preservation.
I was fully prepared to retire. I had found someone whom I found visually stunning, intellectually stimulating, and whose habits and patterns were acceptable or at least tolerable. Sadly I did not meet the same requirements for her. What now? The biggest selling points for me-to a potential partner-was my uncontrollable-ness. My wild unbound streak of madness, and I’m not sure if I can get that back. More so I’m not sure if I want that back. I was comfortable with my routine of Wrestling, Adult Swim, and Comedy Central shows. Mad Men/Breaking Bad/Walking Dead Sundays, going to the movies on the weekends, boring predictable, were fine by me. I had done all the partying and running the streets, I made it through all of that with my dick clean and my body mostly intact. No serious injury or venereal diseases to speak of. I had won in my eyes. Yet I had given up to soon, there was more fighting left to be done. How did I miss that, the signs were all there.
I sit around now with my head in my hands, tears streaming down my fat face, going over each and every mistake I made, playing the last five years over and over again in my head. Wrestling with what I could have done differently. There are those out there who would say that there was nothing I could have done, but I don’t buy that. I have been able to achieve impossible feats through sheer will alone. When we separated in 2009 many believed that my time was done then, but I fought and clawed my way back to where I wanted to be. I got too relaxed after the New Year began. I had spent the winter working my ass off at two jobs to keep the bills paid, I thought that was enough. She had achieved her goals and dreams and I thought it was my turn to focus on my writing and achieving my dreams. It was not my time, I still had to fight for her love and respect, within a month I had lost both. February was the calm before the storm, March was filled with explosive, volatile insults and true emotions were revealed. I was never seen as an equal only a lesser than. My decision to play it safe was shown to be a bad one, a disastrous one that was my undoing.
I’m still mulling over all that. The question really is what now? Do I try to feign a version of the old me in a vain hope of attracted another beauty with a body and mid like hers (not likely)? Do I keep my retirement ways and settle for sleeping with women who I find less than physically desirable (a little more likely, but still unlikely)? Or, do I quite wallowing in self-pity and pull it together, find a way to make my own way back to where I want to be and wav it in her face that I did it on my own! I like the third option, but it is the most uphill. I will have to drop a lot of my retirement plans and start busting my ass to make it happen. It will take a deal longer than seducing another woman into carrying me across country and putting me up in a nice apartment, but looking at the girth added around my mid section over the last five years, it might be easier.