The Noble Risk

It used to be just about the fucking. It was all about my cock in her mouth, her pussy on my face. It was about her taste on my lips, the fingers I couldn't stop smelling on the plane ride home. It was about penetration, thrusting, pounding. It was about the cry from her lips, the look on her face and the trembling of her legs as she let go. It was about the glisten of my cum on her tits, the red throbbing as I pulled out of her. It used to be about that tingling in my ass when I felt myself squirting. It used to be strictly sex, strictly fucking, strictly bodies moving in unison.

I would think all day long about the shape of her breasts, their weight in my hands. I thought about the curve of her ass and how I held on for dear life as she rode up and down on my cock. I thought about the look of glee on her face as I sprayed her with my juice. I didn't think of much else but that. I wrote about it and got off obsessing about it, it occupied my idle mind. The tension would build until I couldn't take it anymore, I know she was the same...but now it is so much more.

Now don't get me wrong, I still think about the fucking often...well maybe more than often, but these days I think about something so much more...something. It happened slowly, kind of like aging, you don't notice it when it's happening but then one day you look at a picture of yourself from days past and think, "look how I've changed." One day I realized I was thinking less and less about fucking her and more and more about just hanging out. I thought so much more about her company, her touch, her voice, the way she looks at me. At first I didn't know how to define it, the thoughts frightened me, us being so far apart and all. It didn't take too long for me to find a name to call it by, the "L" word I struggled to avoid saying, let alone meaning.

This feeling grew in me as the weeks passed and I began to realize I could not be without it. Each hurdle we flew over assured me that she was the one, I could not be without her. But then logic would kick in and ask me how I planned to make this work, how would I get there, how would I live, where would I work? I told her I was coming, I wanted to come and I wanted so badly to believe it, but something inside of me was telling me, "the risk is too great." Something in me wanted this to fail, simply so my life would become easy again...so everything would once again become ordinary.

But ordinary is a curse, a cop out, a denial of the possibility of greatness. Ordinary is what deprives you of everything that makes life worth living. I made a simple commitment to myself, I would not let this thing we have be destroyed by my cold feet.

So I talked to my dad a few nights ago, really drilled it into his head that I'm going and nothing will stop me. I expected an argument, I expected him to come forward with all the reasons why the risk was unreasonable and why it might not work. The truth is, it might not work and it is a great risk, probably the biggest risk I've ever played...a hand with everything in the pot. But I didn't get the argument I had expected, in fact I got an argument I had not expected.

An argument for taking the risk.

He told me there was only one way to know if she truly is the one I am meant to spend my life with...going and finding out. He said the risk of failure is far outweighed by the reward of success, he called it "a noble risk." He told me they would help me as much as they could to make my way out there. "What if," was not a question he wanted his son asking...he told me he had asked it too many times himself.

"Take the risk," he said, "'what if' is a horrible thing to live with."

Blackout

The alarm sounded like a fucking jet engine taking off next to my bed. There are just some days when you shouldn't even wake up. The text messages from the night before were my only clue as to what happened. Just as I suspected, nothing good was said.

Sitting here now I wonder what the fuck was I thinking. Now it seems everyone is pissed off at me and in no short order making it known that I need to grow up, that I am a moron, that I was a mess, that there was no reason to drink that much. YES I GET IT.

Sometimes I guess I just see how far I have gotten and I feel like I need to destroy all my progress with some form of amber liquid. I don't remember anything, my stomach feels like it is turning over and everyone is pissed off at me. I don't even know why I'm wasting my fucking time writing this. I don't need any more reminders of how fucking stupid I am.

I see it on a daily basis.

Dreams of Snakes

It happens every time I polish off a bottle of red wine before bed. The dreams are insane, and for the most part indecipherable and violent. Most of the time I can't remember what happened when I wake up, let alone what they mean...if, that is, dreams are supposed to mean something in the first place. Upon waking, the dream usually fades off back into my subconscious, last night was not one of those cases.

My boss had given me a present, for what reason I have no idea. He placed a small .22 caliber pistol equipped with a silencer into my hand and thanked me for my hard work. I got the feeling it was a going away gift but there is no way to be sure. Then, in the strange manner that dreams progress, I found myself lost in a jungle.

It seemed that every few feet I walked a snake would materialize from the bush and attempt to bite my ankles. After some time of evading their strikes one succeeded, I looked down and saw the blood running down my leg. I bent over and picked the snake up, it bit me again on the hand before I tightened my grip around its throat. I held its head steady and leveled the .22 under its chin and pulled the trigger.

Suddenly I was in the living room of a house I had not lived in for a few years. The snake was dead in my hands and its blood splattered on the wall. I tossed the still wriggling carcass to the ground before being awoken by the fucking garbage truck emptying the dumpster in my parking lot.

I thought about it as I drove into work this morning, what it meant...it didn't take me long to come to a conclusion. You see Monday I got a text message from my ex-girlfriend, the one who tried her hardest to destroy me only a few months ago. She needed her flash drive back and would buy me a bourbon for my trouble. I responded, telling her I would meet her at 6:30.

I put my cigarette out on the curb and walked in, I was early. I sat there thinking about how pissed my actual girlfriend was that I was meeting Meg for a drink, but my curiosity got the better of me...I could not resist. The waitress took my order, a bourbon and a High Life, and asked if someone was meeting me. I nodded and then noticed her walk in. She sat down. We said hello. It was silent for a moment...

She was visibly nervous, chattering away as I sat there sipping my drink and listening to the details of her life for the past year. She was skirting around the obvious, "It's ok, you can talk about Mike if you want," I told her. Of course no matter how much I hate my former best friend, I was immensely curious how the two of them had been getting on since the beginning of their little "behind the back affair." She told me he was getting ready to be transferred down to Georgia, apparently that's where you get sent when you're the top tobacco salesman in Ohio. She answered the way I figured she would when I asked if she was going to move with him.

She didn't give much away, but I could tell it was weighing heavy on her. I pressed on, telling her about my girl and how I couldn't be happier with her. As I said it I was flooded with a whole list of reasons why she is everything Meg never was. It came to me suddenly and I understood that all the pain was completely worth it.

We stood outside of the bar for a minute as I finished a cigarette, finishing the game of catch up we were playing. I said goodbye and turned to walk away, she stood there for a second, as if I was going to come back. I got into the car and called my notably pissed off girlfriend to tell her it had gone "well," whatever that meant. I showed her and myself I was happier without her, regardless of how hard they had both tried to put me under and I realized all over again why I am so lucky today.

But more importantly, I proved something to myself, that I am the bigger man, the one who isn't going to harbor hard feelings or act like a child. I had told her honestly I hoped things worked out for her and I meant it. I finally realized I had what I needed all along, closure. I had moved on and I ended up on top.

As for my dear "friend" Mike, now he is another story. From what it sounded like, he had assumed all along that Meg would make the move with him when he got transferred. For someone who had never been more than 50 miles from home, that must have been important to him. But once again, my free-spirited ex proved to me that she had not changed a bit...she wasn't going with him. He had thrown away the 6 years of good times we had for a woman who never saw him in her future anyways. Besides, I never understood how her...or any girl for that matter could go for a guy who spent more money than her on hair care products.

Hair gel was invented to identify assholes from a distance.

He told me once, a long time ago, that he wanted to get out of here just as bad as I did, he just didn't want to go by himself. He was afraid of being so far from home and knowing no one. He said this place was getting to him, killing him, so to speak. I bet he thought he had it all worked out, he sacrificed me for her...but look what he ended up with.

So it quickly became apparent, on my ride in, what my dream meant. The snakes in my life may bite and for a while think I am defeated....but in the end I will win. I will always win, no matter how hard they try to make me fall. In the end, the inevitable end, I will watch with a grin on my face as the pieces of the life he thought he built on my back are sprayed all over the wall like the snake in my dream.

Good riddance you cunt.

Shame on Me

A little back story 7/14/09

Now that I have had more than a little time to process the...situation, maybe I can come to some sort of conclusion. I had this rotten suspicion in the pit of my stomach but everyone kept telling me…no, assuring me, “Oh come on Cheese, don’t be paranoid, they’d never do that to you.” I should have known better than that, I have always trusted my gut…it's the reason I am still alive. I just knew it, no matter what they said I fucking knew it was happening behind my back.

It was the night before the big interview and I was sitting in the back of a Manhattan bar, putting down bourbon a bit too quickly. If ever there was an example of how this truly is a tale of two cities, it was that night. We were having fun, maybe...definitely too much fun for the night before an interview, but regardless, I remember the call and suddenly I was not in New York, I was stuck back in Ohio. This fucking place, dragging me back kicking and screaming. It took only a few moments, a few words, to change from having one of my best nights, to feeling completely stabbed in the back. My new friends reassured me, my girlfriend consoled me and I calmed down enough (I'm sure the bourbon helped) to enjoy the rest of the night.

The next morning I woke up slightly hung over and got dressed for my interview. I choked down the feelings of betrayal, determined not to let it show in front of the panel set to quiz me. “What would you say your greatest weakness is?” I answered their questions with calculated lies; I told them what they wanted to hear. We cried when I left for the airport, like always, but I cried not only because I was losing the one I love yet again…but because I knew I was headed back into the war zone of my life.

Wheels down, here we go again.

I don’t even remember what he said, honestly, I’m not entirely hard to convince.

“What would you say your greatest weakness is?”

“Well Mr. Interviewer, I would say my greatest weakness is the fact that I have fucked so many people over in my life. See let me explain, I have screwed quite a few in my day and while some have told me to burn in hell, a few forgave me and we are now very close. Now follow me here, see since I have been forgiven by so many people who I cared about I feel it's only fair to do the same to people that screw me. Why is that a weakness you ask?”

It’s like fucking turning your back so it’s easier to stab you.

I was drunk, surprisingly, when he apologized. He called me, wanted to make amends and even brought the bourbon. He talked about the guilt, about not sleeping and about how he knew that he was my oldest friend here. He told me he knew how wrong it was to go behind my back. I told him I wasn’t still in love with her, I was just angry he didn’t tell me. He understood, I understood. “Bros before hoes,” he told me, “bros before hoes.”

Fast forward a few months. I had been wondering for a week or two why he wasn’t returning calls or texts anymore. I thought maybe I was just hanging out with TJ and Smash too much and he resented it, maybe it was my fault. I wasn’t exactly going up to his neck of the woods to hang out anymore, yeah…it had to be my fault. To think that I actually lied awake at night worrying about my friendship with him makes me sick now. But then I suppose I haven’t told that part of the story yet, now have I?

I stood on the porch at Simon’s admiring the downtown view he paid way too much for, finishing the end of a blunt and drinking my High Life. Smash and I had been talking on the patio for a while, I had been wondering why it was just her and I out there when everyone else was inside. The generally lighthearted conversation turned in a second, I don’t know what prompted her, but she said she had something she needed to tell me but she was afraid of my reaction. Simon, TJ and Adrianna stared at the two of us through the glass patio door as I asked her. “What the fuck is going on here?”

And then she dropped it.

Only a few seconds later, Simon grabbed me and pushed me back against the wall, “Man I know you’re pissed but if you keep punching that you’re going to break it.” It wasn’t even me that he was talking to, I had lost all control and my rage totally blinded me. The blood from my fists formed two streaked imprints on the wooden siding of his apartment; I fell back into a chair. TJ told me he was sorry, they had just found out and told me as soon as they knew. I believe him. They told me they were sorry, “If we had known earlier we would have told you.”

The difference between friend and enemy became very clear as I went though one by one my friends who must have been laughing behind my back. “Dude, his best friend is not only fucking, but going out with his ex…and he has no idea. How dumb can you be?”

I let her have it; I spewed every possible wish of evil onto her. I told her I hope she died; I hoped her whole family died but I left him alone. I didn’t know what to say. After a few days to think about it I realized I wasn’t upset with her, sure knowing would have been nice but she knows me and how I would have reacted. If I was her, I wouldn’t have told me either.

But him…that is a whole other story.

He didn’t say anything for a week, but at some point waiting him out got to be too much. I sent a text reading quite simply, “You are not a man, grow a pair of balls and admit it to me.” He didn’t respond for more than a day. When he did it was half assed, “It’s a shitty situation and I don’t know what to do. I know it’s fucked up man and I’m sorry.” For the first time in my life I knew what to say back immediately.

“I don’t care, do whatever you want. You are as good as dead to me.”

And that is how you erase six years in one sentence. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you don’t exist.

Off Balance

Herein lies the trouble with getting your hopes up. What goes up must, inevitably, come down. When you do finally come crashing back to earth it takes a little while to hit the ground. It isn't instantaneous. It might take days, it might take years but don't ever forget that it is inevitable.

I have a notorious habit of overreacting. Bad news comes and I flip out, good news comes and I get overexcited. I am incapable of maintaining any sense of balance. I can't manage to get myself into that little space that lies between these two extremes. Well, that isn't entirely accurate as that's where I find myself now.

You see, balancing in between is where I am right now. Balance is the lack of everything dramatic, everything exciting, everything bad and everything good. Balance has me sitting here, choking the life out of me as I rot away at this desk. When you spend all most of your time high on excitement or drowning in depression there is not much time for any sort of sanity in life. So when I do get these momentary glances of what it must be like to be...normal...well...I don't know who I am.

I don't do much anymore. I drink, I smoke, I make my social rounds but increasingly, I feel at a loss for words with the closest of friends. No one says anything, but I see the looks in their eyes...they wonder what my major malfunction is. I get tired of those looks really quickly and since they aren't going anywhere, neither am I. So now while I spend my time alone, playing my guitar, getting the most out of my Netflix subscription and jerking off to pass the hours, my friends wonder where I am. Then, slowly but surely, they stop wondering. It isn't their fault, I just give them no reason to. As the days pass the invitations to fun nights out or simple phone calls to kick it slowly disappear until one day I realize this is my own doing.

So here I am. I've got nothing really going for me. I have a woman who loves me more than anything, but this wait has been nothing if not painful...for the both of us. There is no land in sight, I am just out here sailing around trying to find out how to get where I want to be going. Captains in the heyday of exploration used to miss their intended destinations by hundreds of miles, I fear the same will happen to me. I don't want to end up anywhere else than the place I am trying to get to, I just don't know how to get there.

I have nothing to be bitter, sad or angry about. I have nothing to be excited, nervous or happy about. I am stuck in limbo, in between up and down. Everything just...is, nothing more nothing less. I am just here, my life is just happening, I have no idea if I am in control. Days pass without the slightest recognition of their going. Not out of control but not charging forward just the same. Just here.

So here I wait, residing in my state of equilibrium. If that's the case then why do I feel so off balance?