Every day is a battle.

Why?

Because I want to enjoy a rich life. One filled with amazing experiences and beautiful women. I want joy and happiness. And did I mention the women?

So, why the battle? This is achievable, right? Perhaps...

Yet every day I battle my tendency to be a curmudgeon.

For the unaware:

cur·mudg·eon n (archaic) 1.) A miser. 2.) An ill-tempered person full of stubborn ideas or opinions.

Is it ingrained in my personality? Or is it the way I was raised?

For whatever reason, if I don’t fight the good fight, I tend toward being curmudgeonly.

Deep down, I like it. It’s comfortable. Too comfortable.

Like an old pair of boxers, or those flannel sheets. It’s so comfortable, many days, if I don’t work at it, I’m unable to “switch it off,” and become charming.

Then comes the missed opportunity with the beautiful young lady at the coffee shop.

How does one who prefers solitude balance that without suffering loneliness?