i can’t even begin to tell you how frustrated i am right now….

oh yeah, and in case you didn’t know… women are crazy.

i have to say, i often think i’m more sentimental than most people.  i may not show it, and you might not know it by talking to me, but i think it’s true.  especially when it comes to my friends and family.  it’s also true of those i can no longer call my friends, but once did.

i got some bad news today; the father of someone who i used to be very close to passed away.  My first thought was, “i hope she’s alright.”  my second thought was, “i’m really sorry i can’t be there with her and her family.”  this is a friend i haven’t seen in years, whose family i haven’t seen in twice as long, and someone i haven’t really spoken to in more than a year.

and still i consider her a friend.  in fact, i still describe her as one of my all time favorite people.  this is what i mean about sentimental.  she’s not in my life and i’m not in her’s and while i can’t practically call her a close friend for that very reason, i’ll admit that i miss our friendship and that i think about her often.

see, i can’t help but blame myself for the way things are.  there was a time when we were so close.  then things got a little strange and a little difficult and i freaked out.  i lost my cool, my temper, said things i shouldn’t have, and as a result, i lost one of my best friends and favorite people.  we eventually patched things up, after i apologized, a few years later.  still, things were never the same after that.  i pretty much screwed things up beyond repair.

the story itself isn’t a very interesting one, unless you knew us and even then you might not think it’s that interesting.  that being said, i feel no need to go into details.  i just have this to say….

i miss you.  i wish we talked more.  i wish i could be there to provide even the littlest bit of comfort during this hard time.  just know that you are in my thoughts, as you often are.

boobs are the enemy of man. boobs make men weak. one moment a man can be completely reasonable and rational. as soon as there are boobs around, however, men turn into stupid blubbering morons. they’ll do almost anything boobs ask them to do. “buy me a drink?” “sure.” “i can’t afford a ticket, can you let me go with a warning?” “sure.” the only power or advantage women have are their boobs. of course, that also means that women with no boobs don’t have any power.

this is a firm belief i’ve had for quite some time, but only feel the need to write about it now. you might be asking why. why now? well, it’s simple. i’ll let you. my roommate has completely succumb to the power of his girlfriend’s boobs. while he may not often act like his age (which i don’t really mind, because i don’t really either), but when his girlfriend is around, he turns into cutsie, whiny boy: the perfect compliment to his cutsie, whiny girlfriend. what amazes me is that we know a girl, who shawn wouldn’t date in a million years, who has remarkably similar characteristics. they’re both whiny. they’re both cutsie. so what’s the difference? this other girl has no boobs to speak of.

all of this isn’t to say that the girlfriend isn’t intelligent (though you might not know it to listen to her). maybe it’s that my roommate likes whiny girls. maybe its a fetish; some people like feet or bondage, maybe my roommate just has a thing for whiny girls. it is surprising to me, though. i mean, its one thing, i guess, to like the whiny, bratty girls (oh yeah, did i mention she’s a spoiled little brat?), but what i think is more frustrating than anything else is the fact that when she’s around, he turns into cutsie whiny little boy. the transformation is astonishing. the two of us could be having a complete adult sounding, reasonable conversation, but if she calls or shows up at the house, all that goes right out the window. the adult sounding man curls up into the fetal position and the cutsie, whiny man appears. it’s kinda like watching a man transform into a werewolf, only scarier.

he says he likes it. he assures me that when (though i say if) i find a girlfriend, i’ll do the same thing… and enjoy it! what the fuck? i really, really hope that isn’t the case. at this point, if that’s true, i’d just as soon remain single and keep what little scrap of dignity i have. the power of the boobs will not get me. i will remain resistant to the power they have, at whatever the cost. i mean, is it worth transforming into a whiny, six-year-old-sounding boy for the sake of some ass? somehow i doubt it, though i obviously can’t say from experience.

tucked away in all this stupid bullshit, maybe there’s a solution…. destroy the boobs! destroy them! we must develop a weapon that can prevail over our enemy. in the meantime, in lue of a useful, powerful weapon, maybe we can anesthetize all the boobed-women and force boob reductions on them all, thereby taking away their power over us men. it sounds like a good idea to me, of course, if you come up with any weapon ideas that would be more fun, be sure to let me know.

what is this strange need people have to ‘couple up’?  i mean, beyond the biological desire to procreate, why do people date, live together, marry, etc?  where does this desire to find a ‘soul mate’ come from?  and does it serve any purpose or have any positive influence on a person?

hmmm….  i can’t help but want to ‘couple up’ just like everyone else.  well, i mean, i guess there are those people who don’t care, but for the most part, everyone wants that.  i’m no different.  the thing is, it’s easier for some people than it is for others.  why is that?  i have friends who’ve had a steady stream of different boyfriends or girlfriends since high school, maybe even before.  but not me.  in my whole life, i’ve only had a handful of relationships, none of which lasted very long or ended well.
not long after girls became ceased having cooties and started having boobs, i came to the conclusion that there are just some people who aren’t meant to ‘couple’.  i am, most likely, counted among that group of people.  from a biological stand point, this is simply a matter of evolution.  in order to perpetuate the best traits of our species, the less-desirables have a greater difficulty in finding a mate and are less likely to have offspring.

there was a time when this notion upset and frustrated me, but the more time i have to deal with it, the more i fail, the more clear it is that it’s simply a matter of fact.  the sooner i accept this, the better off i’ll be.  of course, having said that, i have to admit that its true.  i’m starting to come to terms with this fact and the more i wrestle with the notion, the more ok i am with it.  there’s always going to be a part of me that is bothered by this notion, but every day that part grows smaller.  i’ve pretty much accepted this.

in some ways, this realization simplifies my life quite a bit.  while everyone else i know is looking to couple up and get hitched, i can take some comfort in the fact that this is something i simply don’t have to worry about.

this isn’t to say that i’ve lost interest in girls, its just to say that i’ve lost interest in trying. that’s right, i quit. i can now admit, with only a twinge of discomfort, that i am a failure when it comes to women…. now i know what you’re going to say; “you haven’t really tried. you’ve never really tried.” while that might be true, i don’t know that i completely believe it. i mean, to some extent, it’s true, but only from someone else’s view point. these peole don’t know that i’ve torn myself up, time and again, trying to overcome whatever crazy fear and panic it is that locks me up. i can refer to example after example of my failures. so, when i say that i’ve failed, it isn’t to say that i’ve been rejected and have quit. it’s far more complicated and pathetic than that. the truth is i never got to the point where i might be rejected.

in all my years i’ve only asked two girls out. only one said yes. my failure isn’t with women, i can see that now. my failure is with myself, which is all the more sad. but after all the times i’ve lost against my own fears, i’ve finally come to this conclusion: this is how it is for me.

i used to think i was broken, that something was wrong with me, but i’ve realized that this is exactly how i’m supposed to be. i’ve been in therapy for over a year now and while i’ve come to like myself more, i’ve also started to accept things that i don’t have power over. i started to say previously that i am bound by biology. this is what i’m referring to. as i get older and come to like myself more and more, i can also accept this about me. for reasons unknown to me, this is how i am. for better or worse. ultimately, i can’t change what i am. if i believe in g-d (which i’m not sure that i do), i can say this is the role g-d has given me. i may not understand it. i may not be happy about it, but i am beginning to accept it. if i take g-d out of it, then it becomes a simple matter of biology and genetics: i wasn’t meant to reproduce. this flaw in me, biologically, will see its end with my death. its a flaw that won’t be passed on to any offspring, to any children. honestly, i don’t know which one lends me greater comfort.

say what you want. say that i’m being silly. say that i’m just feeling sorry for myself. say whatever you want, but i quit. i’m done thinking about girlfriends. i’m done trying to find a date, or a girlfriend, or someone to marry. i’m through with it all.

a funny thing happened to me on the way to the circus…. isn’t that a movie, or something? ok, maybe not. what do i know?

still, i actually do have something to say (though once again, i’m probably not writing this for anyone’s benefit but my own). a funny thing’s happened to me on my way to mental wellness. it seems, after a year of therapy, i’m in a similar place from where i started. hmmm, interesting….

no. i’ve got something else….

i had a conversation with shawn the other day and while the conversation itself wasn’t very enlightening, it got me to thinking. with one exception, i haven’t been interested in a girl that’s single in nearly a decade. that’s right, nearly ten fucking years. jamie k., (the infamous) katie s., rebecca s., and amy v. the names read like a list of ridiculous failures, at least that’s the way it reads to me.

so, back to the conversation with shawn. i don’t remember how it started, but i know i didn’t start it because i don’t bother having conversations like that any more with him. or really with anyone, for that matter. anyway, i had just felt crushing defeat at my own hands at a party last weekend. the most recent delusion on the ‘spoken for’ list was at this party, which i was excited about, right up to the point where i couldn’t think of anything to say. she was perpetually surrounded by her friends from school, and i just couldn’t get myself to fit that niche.

i left the party early feeling cowardly and beaten. and since then (and the rediculous conversation with shawn), i’ve pretty much accepted the fact that this is my lot. of course, that notion may change tomorrow, but the fact will remain. i’ll admit that there’s a good chance that i’ll find some other girl to be attracted to, some girl that will already be spoken for, some girl that i’ll have no chance with. and then i’ll be right back here. it’s a vicious circle that i will forever be stuck in. ok, well maybe not forever… at some point i’ll die.

given all this seeming reality and seething self-pitty, i can’t help but want someone. i want a girlfriend, dammit. i don’t think that’s too much to ask for? is it? i mean, i don’t really ask for much, other than that. i guess asking doesn’t do me much good, though. i mean, it’s not like santa is going to bring me one on christmas. for one thing, i don’t know that i’d be on his list of good little children. or another, we have no chimney in our house. oh yeah, i don’t believe in santa. oh yeah, i’m jewish. fuck santa.

so, where does this leave me? what conclusion, if any, have i come to? well, it seems pretty simple to me. don’t bother with amy, i’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell. also, i need to find things that will keep my sad, pathetic little brain preoccupied. read more, bike more, take more pictures, study more.
i’ve got just one more thing to say; all you people who are reading this (oh, who the hell am i kidding) that have boyfriends and girlfriends…. KISS MY HAIRY, PALE-WHITE ASS!!