It may be time to concede that I screwed up with you.

I failed your test. You presented the perfect opportunity to express my desires… my desire to have you. To bend you over. To be inside you.

And yet again, I played it safe.

Unconsciously, even.

Another missed opportunity. Disappointing you. Disappointing me.

Death is coming for me. And I don’t seem to care. Every day another beautiful girl. Another opportunity for fun. For passion. For life.

And I check out. Like leaving a room at the Marriott. I don’t even notice what I am leaving behind.

Until the regret settles in. Sometimes later. Sometimes much later. It depends on how much I like her. How strong her desire was.

I may not be here tomorrow. Or even this afternoon. How do I check in to my desires?

I was called out that I am not sharing good vibes with myself. That’s not wrong. I am so checked out of my own life, I don’t know how to come back.

I don’t even care that death may find me. I tell myself I want these experiences with beautiful women… yet do I? Or has all of my desire and passion been beaten out of me since my childhood? Why is “We Can’t Always Get What We Want” the song that always plays in my head?

So I undershare. I’m embarrassed to hear/read what I probably need to hear/read. Besides, won’t that make me think? Kick me further out of my awareness?

I must share, though. I’ve got to get my legs back underneath me and stop disappointing myself. I am broken. And I don’t know what to do. How can I possibly reawaken my desires after decades of suppression? For real, not just moments of perceived reawakening.

And then, when I think you’re gone—forever—you check in. A flicker of hope.

God damn it.

You really like me. If only I can dig through the shadows and the lies and the secrets before that changes. Before our season ends.

I told another lie today.

I told you I don’t want to see you. When that’s all I want. Is to see you.

I said I don’t want to feel like a charlatan. What if I am a charlatan? Will it be okay to feel like one then?

No, I want to see you. What I don’t want, is for you to see me like this. Agonizing. Over what I have done. How I have arrived here.

I am grateful to have met you. To share a part of your life. I may have made poor decisions in my life, yet they have led me to you.

I am not ready, however. I may never be. So few have influenced me in this way. So few have made me wish I had handled this ages ago. Poured the lies onto a page. Burned every bridge. So I can show up with you. So I can be the man who excites you. Who brings you joy. Who lights up your eyes and flushes your cheeks and makes you wet.

I want to see you. I want to explore every inch of you. I want to taste you. I want to delve deep inside you.

If only I could tell you…

Another one:

Come on, baby, don't say maybe / I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me / We may lose, and we may win / Though we will never be here again

How have I known ALL of the words all of this time, yet never really listened?

Just wow. What a great way to live!

What i'm listening to:

Take It Easy
Eagles
Eagles

Perhaps, for the first time, I understand increased awareness.

This. This is how blocked I have been. My entire life. Profoundly sad, really. No wonder I am alone. In my head. Safe. Because they know me in here.

No. I’m not really safe in here. Only demons live inside my head. Telling me why I’ll never keep her. Or have her.

Or succeed. Or fail. Because, why try?

I’m safe. Because, they know me in here.

Everything. Is a lie. God damn it.

Anyway, today, I am listening to a song. It’s an old song… one I’ve known practically my entire life.

Yet, never had I ever imagined—actually imagined—the sight, the sounds, the smell, the taste, and OMG, the feeling! of “makin’ love at midnight, at the dunes, on the cape.”

Not once.

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? Correction, was.

Breathe. Let it go. You see her now. On the sand. Inviting you.

Now I understand. Truly. Don’t let this go.

What i'm listening to:

Escape (The Piña Colada Song)
Rupert Holmes
Partners in Crime

Something else occurred to me today.

You no longer smile when my name appears on your phone.

This. Is unforgivable. Is it?

I am truly sorry. How did it even get this far? Not even a month ago, there was pure joy at yet another notification.

It’s all gone. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

What is left to do? Or say? Goodbye? It seems fucking childish to disappear without acknowledging this. No, ghosting isn’t the solution, forever and ever left to haunt each other.

Or is there a path? To the pure joy we experienced? Ahead.

God damn it, that wasn’t fair to you. Is there anything worse I could have done than to deprive you of that joy? Yet, how do we settle arguments/fights when we’re apart? Without destroying joy?

Life is a constant. No ebbs. No flows. Can this knowledge and awareness alone quell doubt? Insecurity? Whatever nonsense creeps in and makes her dread the notification? The same nonsense that agonizes her when the notification doesn’t appear?

What is next? Start here:

Do NOT message her, unless:

1. It brings joy or delight.
2. We’re arranging a meetup.

I don’t want to feel like a charlatan.

This is what surfaced in me today.

I don’t even know if I am a charlatan, but I feel like one. I am never ready. I have let some of the most amazing women go, because I am still battling my inner demons, and they deserve better.

I’m the one that gives up. I don’t want to do this anymore. Give up, that is.

Every beautiful woman I lose, it hurts exponentially more than the last. Because when I go in, I FEEL closer to “ready,” whatever that is. Everything is authentic. Everything is beautiful.

Then I erect the walls. I end up doubting everything. I sabotage it. And it’s over. And I pledge myself to getting “ready” for the next one, because I cannot go through this again. Better to settle for the girls I cannot love.

Perhaps I am a charlatan. I began this process not really knowing what box I was opening. And, to be honest, it has helped. A lot. I’m good. Really good. I scare myself.

Then I met someone. Someone who’s not necessarily available. I let my doubts and others tell me that the forbidden fruit is complicated. That it’s likely her, not me.

Imagine how my heart broke when she told me she was ready. She was mine. Until the walls. Until my authenticness… dissolved. Am I failing?

If there is a pattern, it’s not her.

Nights are the worst. My phone is silent. Esteem is low. Loathing is high. Insomnia has found me. And I’m emanating so much poison, I can’t find anyone to share my bed.

God damn it. It’s time for me to get this handled. I don’t want to feel like a charlatan. What is next?

It’s about a guy trying to keep it together while falling apart. It’s about life, love, sex, and the ever-lurking presence of the grim fucking reaper. It’s about men... Husbands, wives, daughters and fathers.

What i'm listening to:

Would?
Alice in Chains
Dirt

What is the biggest lie we tell ourselves?

Of course, there is more than one… certainly.

Allow me to submit for your consideration, this one:

“I don’t want to bother you, but…”

If this phrase so much as alights on the tip of your tongue, clearly you do.

Want to bother her.

Perhaps a better way to look at it… or phrase it is:

“I hope this doesn’t bother you, but…”

Yet, why do we consider ourselves a bother at all? Some girls? Yes. Especially near the end of your season.

If she’s responsive, though? You, sir, are not a bother. Stop with the self-loathing, and just get it done.

Before you really do… bother her.

What i'm listening to:

Give to Live
Sammy Hagar
I Never Said Goodbye

It is not lost on me that had I not become emotionally invested—smitten, even—in you, that I’d have already had you.

So, how do I find and focus on the big picture? The grand vision? Life, itself?

How do I become this extraordinary man? The man who’s life is bigger than himself? The one all the girls want?

I am closer. I catch glimpses of it. Here. And there.

I need to maintain it though. Push it beyond the smoke and mirrors that it is.

At this point, I have mastered the illusion. And for a shining moment, captured the attentions/affections of a woman who ticks all the boxes.

Ah, but it only ever lasts a season.

Now the seasons have changed. And I allowed myself to become consumed. Again, my house of cards fell all around me.

I am this close to knowing what I want. The grand vision is coming together. I hadn’t planned on meeting someone who would become part of that, at a time when neither of us were ready for it.

It’s time to take a step (or many) back. To stop worrying about the how—even if the “how” has been drummed into me since my youth—squashing the dreamer filled with desire.

I have been spoiled. I am soft. My life easy. Even with my current trials and tribulations, I don’t know how to adapt. No idea where to begin if I wanted to hop on a boat for overseas and work on myself.

This time, it can’t be an illusion. I must become an excellent man. It will not be easy. It is, however, what I need.

What i'm listening to:

In Your Eyes
The Weeknd
After Hours

I saw you yesterday.

Your smile and your the light in eyes said it all. And that gives me hope.

Time apart is not doing us any favors. Yet you have a lot going on (honestly, we both do), so you’ll keep creating distance. For now.

At least the demons in my mind were wrong. It’s not me.

You want to get together. You don’t want this—distance.

And we will. When it’s time. When it’s nice. When it’s easy.