If you look at change as something you can count on, then it can be a comfort. There’s not many things you can count on.

Life can certainly be interesting. Two years ago, I’d have never imagined I’d find myself, today, back in a familiar land, looking for opportunity, and beginning something new... and alone.

But here we are. After seven states in seven days—and the introspection that comes with it—I am withdrawing my name from consideration. Thank you for your interest, and for the opportunity.

I have loved adoring you, and I thoroughly enjoyed our time together. Yet, my attention is no longer the attention you crave.

You were right. We’re not exactly aligned. And it’s going to require more than our twin flame love to thrive.

This transition will hurt. I’m not sure I’m even strong enough to resist you, if you should come back around. Your kisses, so magical. So naked. Three glorious days.

You don’t always love me—or want me—but that week... you did.

As with all good things, this appears to be ending. For several days, I didn’t want to go on. There are moments when I still don’t.

Yet, as an immortal, I must concede that going on is the only option. One vision ends, another replaces it.

So, what’s next?

Tomorrow, I start a new job. A common job. One that requires no skill, which is wonderful because most of my skills have been replaced by Skynet anyway.

Plus, there’s the neglected book. Okay, books. And the whimsical fantasy that others may benefit from my experience. Now that I cannot love again.

Those who can, do. Those who cannot, teach.

Perhaps that’s not exactly fair. I don’t know much, but it seems that the best way to learn how to do something is to figure it out enough to teach it to someone else.

I have seen this in action... training others to do a task. Explaining my understanding—flawed, or not—of how a system works.

I know, beyond doubt, that she will never forget me. Hell, I’ve had a more profound influence on more people, strangers included, than I can possibly imagine.

Incredible.

Why can’t I see this? How will I convince myself that I actually matter? Hm...

I guess we’ll find out. Childlike wonder, initiated. Let’s see what’s out there.

I’m installing some new routines. Rediscovering joy and beauty in those mundane moments. And even smiling now and then. I may even learn how to ride a bicycle.

I can’t promise there won’t be bugs. And mind viruses. Yet, that’s where the good writing will come from.

New OS. Fresh install. Life 3.0.

What i'm listening to:

favorite
Isabel LaRosa
raven

I thought I had moved past scarcity in this world. Especially scarcity around women. There are billions of women in this world—can one truly be so unique?

That must be impossible, right? Oh, if only I had learned how to ride a bicycle...

I wasn’t prepared to meet a matching spoon. I really wasn’t. Until her, I had resigned myself to either remain in solitude, or sacrifice my sleep for a relationship.

I’ve been with women who snore. Women who are heaters. Women who are clingy. Women who don’t sleep. Women who toss all night. Women who kick.

No, I never expected this one.

She’s the perfect little spoon. She pushes right into me. I can barely hear her breathe. She’s just the right temperature. She relaxes at my caresses, yet doesn’t react when they stop—or start again.

She’ll occasionally grab my hand and put it exactly where she wants. Over her breast. Around her waist. Between her legs.

She sleeps through the night. She doesn’t hardly move when she sleeps... which is calming enough that I move less when she’s here.

And she smells so good. And I never want to kick her out of bed. Nor even away from me. We simply snuggle.

Why would I ever want anyone else? I can’t imagine!

In fact, the thought of finding another invokes a profound fall into despair. How do I find another who sleeps like I do? Like I like? We spend a third (half?) of our life in bed. Isn’t that important?

Women don’t exactly fall into bed with me. There is a lot of “getting to know each other” involved before we can even find out if I won’t kick her out of bed for being too hot.

Or snoring. My god, some women snore!

Is this valid “first date” conversation? Am I selfish for being so “shallow” and ending a relationship because she snores? Or grabs my cock in the middle of the night because she’s up and ready?

Yes, I really do value my sleep that much. Maybe I am better off alone...

No wonder I have no interest in getting back out there. What a colossal waste of time “getting to know her” only to find she snores when she said she didn’t. Or she insists on being the big spoon. Or she heats up like a kettle.

Perhaps it is time to dive back into app dating. Outline exactly what my sleep expectations are—and require proof. Because, let’s face it, some of us aren’t entirely aware of whether we snore or not.

I can see it now:

Girlfriend tryouts this week. Please submit with your application your most recent paystub, your best home-cooked meal, and a recording of you sleeping through the night.

No, thank you. I definitely understand not wanting anyone else on an entirely new level.

What i'm listening to:

If I Can't Have You
Yvonne Elliman
Night Flight

I grew up in a real small town. There really wasn’t much to do at all. And I never learned how to pick up and ride a bicycle.

Which is too bad. Because we had town bicycles. Everyone got a ride. My country ass was one of the exceptions, because, I’m afraid, I never learned how.

And I still don’t. A shame actually, because I’ve learned so many other... skills. Perhaps this isn’t a noticeable gap in my tool kit. Perhaps.

Had I learned, I might have been better prepared for any/all of my experiences in the big—and not-so-big—cities.

Regrets. I’ve had a few. This may still be the biggest. Could everything going wrong in life be linked to never having learned to pick up and ride a bicycle?

What better activity, on a lonely night, than to pick up a town bicycle and go for a ride?

Maybe it is not yet too late to learn to ride a bicycle.

It’s time to simplify my life. Past time, actually.

I’m layered. Like an onion. I used to freelance, so I have multiple email addresses and server spaces and domains. And bank accounts. And computers.

The right tool for the right job!

My last purge, I parted with the majority of my tools. I can’t say that I’ve missed them.

I keep my old iPhones. Snapshots of a former life.

I see I’m not the only one. In fact, I’m not even that unusual! So much for my theories of being a 1% of... anything.

Taking advantage of an opportunity, I spent the last week on the road. Visiting a couple of friends I’ve known nearly longer than anyone—thirty-plus years.

Yet, in some ways, they are quite similar. They are well (enough) off. They don’t worry about the little things, and they’re always available to chat. And help. While life can always be better, theirs are pretty well set up.

Simple. Morning routines. Build a fire in the wood stove. Open the blinds to the outdoors. Sit and read and gaze upon the wondrous views. A dog at his feet. Maybe a quick breakfast. Maybe a quick workout.

Not a lot of chaos. Not a lot of drama.

Maybe I have found some of that in my life. Some days, I don’t have sufficient reason to get out of bed... is that a cause for concern? Am I healing from something? Do I need to find something to do?

Write, perhaps? Get thoughts down on the page and out of my own madding mind?

Today has been relaxing. I have a candle lit. I’m enjoying my second cup of English Breakfast with a dab of my mom’s honey in it. I’m set to pick up some fresh tamales for lunch after an appointment. And I work a shift tonight. And for now, I’m writing about the similarities in these friends.

Perhaps, I’ll save the differences for another time...

Another thing of note, is these friends enjoy a scarcity of women.

Not that they don’t both enjoy women, when the opportunity arises (pun accidental).

Women are not their life’s work. Who am I kidding? Are they mine?

Each interaction is easier. I no longer chase. I let her come to me.

I’d like to think I’m learning to recognize when she’s no longer into me. When it’s time to detach and slip quietly into the night. Yet I fear I’m not learning not to fall all over again, should she return.

We humans are complicated beings.

One of these friends chooses not to get too friendly with the women. In some ways, they are a potential detriment to his life and lifestyle. What nonsense has society created?

I am grateful to be able to enjoy... all of the women. As butterflies, if need be.

The other has had his fair share of relationships. He is better than I at ending them when they no longer make sense—not to say that he doesn’t endure his fair share of hurt in that process as well.

He’s found a good one. She genuinely adores and respects him, even when she’s angry at him. And she found him. No chase.

And she has her life together. He doesn’t have to play roles or fill needs beyond the relationship. They simply ENJOY each other. Isn’t that glorious?

All of the adoration in the world won’t fix a young woman. Whether she’s striving to keep food on the table. Or addicted to alcohol. Or drugs. Or attention from all of those potential digital suitors. Or that damned social media doom-scroll.

It can, I suppose, if she genuinely adores and respects her suitor. And can see herself in the lifestyle he represents. Like so many things, that requires doing the work. Every. Day.

Hell, I can’t even convince myself to do the work. Every. Day.

But I am today. One step up.

Eliminate the complexities. Enjoy what little life remains. Simplify.

What i'm listening to:

If You Love Somebody...
Sting
The Dream of the Blue Turtles

A hard pill to swallow… sometimes the woman you want doesn’t even deserve you. Period.

Desire blinds men. It makes you ignore patterns and romanticize potential. You want her because she’s attractive, exciting, familiar… but wanting someone doesn’t make them worthy of you.

A woman deserves you when she brings peace, respect, effort, loyalty, consistency. Not just looks and vibes. If she drains you, confuses you, disrespects you, or keeps you anxious… she’s not a prize. She’s a lesson.

Men lose years trying to “earn” a woman who wouldn’t even qualify to be their wife. The most dangerous woman is the one you want badly, but can’t build with because she keeps you stuck.

The moment you accept “I want her” isn’t enough, your standards come back to life.

Sometimes the woman you want isn’t your blessing. She’s your test. And the correct answer is walk away.

Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

What i'm listening to:

Hurt
Johnny Cash
IV

... if she hasn‘t kicked you out of her streaming services?

If a woman can ignore you, you mean nothing to her.

People don’t ignore what they value. They protect it. They respond to it. They make time for it.

Silence isn’t confusion. It’s a decision. She saw it. She weighed it. She dismissed it.

Interest doesn’t move slow. It moves clean. Even a busy woman answers a man she respects.

Men love to romanticize delays. “She’s scared.” “She’s healing.” “She’s just busy.” No. She’s just not invested.

When a woman likes you, she can’t ignore you without feeling it. Ignoring you would itch. So she responds.

If she ignores you comfortably, you’re not a priority. You’re a placeholder. A notification she’ll answer when she’s bored.

And here’s the killer… every extra text you send doesn’t raise attraction. It lowers your value.

Chasing a woman who ignores you is training her to disrespect you. You’re teaching her that your attention is free.

If she can ignore you, she already ranked you. Believe the ranking. Withdraw access. Replace her. Next.

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived. — Thoreau

Oh, mom.

I don’t know why it has taken me two years to write this. But it has.

You made everyone’s life around you better. Maybe that’s where I get it from. Life, dedicated to service. Except... you were not necessarily a “people pleaser,” which, unfortunately, is what I have become.

In my case, you couldn’t stand to see me struggle. For better, or worse. How could you have known?

All I do is struggle. More so, since you’ve been gone.

I remember your tales of growing up. Growing up poor. Wanting.

This, you never wanted for me. Want. In many ways, I had everything. In many ways, I have lived. In many ways, I am satisfied.

Yet, the human brain is not wired for satisfaction. We are insatiable. Every one of us.

And, sadly, in protecting me from this world, I did not want for much. In some ways, I still don’t.

I learned to live within my means... even if I became lazy. Yes, lazy. Because I quell my ambition to live within my means, rather than expanding my means to live well. I know your intentions were the best, I just never knew what I never knew. I didn’t learn the lessons. Perhaps life was too easy.

This week, I’ve taken comfort in the fact that I can no longer disappoint my parents.

My behavior is still disappointing, they are just no longer here to witness it.

Sadly, there are serious side effects to be taken care of well into adulthood—aside from the laziness.

I have an extraordinarily guilty conscience. No matter how much I’ll shout from the rooftops that guilt and shame are worthless emotions, I harbor colossal amounts of both. Somehow, I live with these every day.

Never having to struggle has made me naïve. Naïveté could be a superpower. Seriously. I don’t know what I don’t know.

Did I really learn how to balance a checkbook? Especially when money “magically” appeared any time I was overdrawn? I don’t know how to live like an adult. Budget for new things. Create a better life. Live outside of the bedroom.

I’ve watched numerous relationships—with great girls—slip through my fingers like sand... because I was not the one. Many of these girls deserve better.

Did they find better? A handful did.

It’s a bittersweet blessing to see Ashley thriving. She’s with a good man who provides for her and their children. There is so much love surrounding them. In some ways, I am envious of the glimpses I see of their lives. In others, I am grateful that her and I didn’t work out. I could not have given her the life she has now. I don’t know where to begin!

Today, that wound is gaping. I want to give that life to someone. Anyone. Whether it’s my current young lady, or a future one. Yet, how can I, knowing that each one deserves better? Knowing I cannot provide a rich life?

No one is coming to save me. I understand that. However, that is no way to motivate someone—at least someone like me.

Oh, I wish I knew how to balance life and finances and working. I wish I had real skills to make real money without relying on trends. And smoke and mirrors.

As they say: Wish in one hand and shit in the other... see which one fills up first.

You gave me the best. I know I disappointed you when I only learned how to squander what I was given.

The only lesson I learned was: Life is all about figuring out what one can get away with.

What kind of mindset is that? Is there a limit to what we can get away with? No wonder I resonate with the grifters of this world. And less with those who actually build rewarding lives... while I enjoy rolling around in bed for three days at a time with my love.

Yeah, it’s fun. But neither of us can survive for very long, if that’s the best that I can offer her!

I saw something about ruining one’s life yesterday:

Most people don’t ruin their lives — they slowly delay fixing obvious problems. You can stay busy for years and still move nowhere.

On Christmas day, Clarissa expressed concerns with ruining my life. Her and I are so alike. My life was ruined before we met. It’s why I pull back. She deserves better. No?

Where is my drive to become better? If it exists, it’s anemic enough to make me question if I really want her in my life. Or anyone, for that matter. Hailing back to that question, “Would you date you?” Is there more to life than eating and shitting and sleeping and fucking?

Do I take a step to make my life—our lives—better? Or do I play Robin Hood, and “borrow” from one account to satisfy another? When did I lose my faith?

So, I am aware of where I have gone wrong... what, now, is the next step? Will I have to hit rock bottom, like an addict, to discover a life worth living—and possibly not survive that fall? Or can I find the impulse to take that leap of faith? To share my “gifts” with the world—whatever these may be? Or maybe there is that elusive third option... rebuilding my life now so that it gradually gets better, one step at a time?

Now that I don’t have to be perfect, I can be good. And make my 8-year-old self proud. And his mama.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you, mom, for all you did. I am sorry that I didn’t learn much, for wasting so much, and for all of the disappointments.