My lover's gone. And she took the kid. Home alone was supposed to be like going back to a place I yearn for, a gift to myself that superposed any narcissistic deed, any unconquered egotistical terrain.
Old lovers are, to use Gabriel García Márquez's words, good to the touch and comfortable like old slippers. What a crude analogy, that old fuck great writer sure is right, though. Except you can't help but to look at other shiner, brand new shoes, staring at you from behind the glass on the store of life. They may not be as comfortable, you may try to see yourself fit in them, walk the morning earth, party and then return them in exchange for your old comfy slippers. That I love her, no doubt. I shall say more, yes... I'm mournful, like someone who loses something sacred, a limb or the false identity a long-term job may offer. It's hard work, of course. Monogamy, that is. Yes, I am faithful to the full extent of word. I value it great.
I'll let you in on a little secret: it wasn't always this way. I learnt the hard way. I already mentioned the hard work part, didn't I? And that's just it. In principle, good things in life generally require some work. To build a great body, to quit smoking cigarettes, to embark on a project, unlike what some self-improvement gurus say, isn't effortless, it demands initially a great deal out of us: to redirect our sense of direction, focus, a shift in our perception. Afterwards, it comes with ease, once the eye to see things in a different light is developed, effortlessness kicks in. Suddenly, and with enormous amazement, you find there really isn't anything that you can't do. First and foremost, it's an act of abandonment. You need to rid yourself of the inner dialogue you're currently engaged in, contemplate the alternate possibility as something feasible, in lack for a better word, even tangible. You can touch it, feel it, smell it... We all possess this quality. It just hasn't been exercised enough, and like a muscle, in time, it can only be strengthened by your diligence. Am I making sense yet?
As a man, I saw only one thing: ass, legs, hair. And not that I escaped this most pittiful state altogether, I still admire form, aesthetics, beauty, in essence. Except, I'm no longer a sucker for it. What I value nowadays is a far more precious flower, like the lotus, a rare breed, something you can't help but marvel at. Not out of neediness, of course, quite the opposite. Men are guilty of one sin: wanting it too much, too often, and like the perfect drug, they can't have enough. Studies have found that the most ancient part of the brain, the one that deals with the utmost essential drives, in the reward mechanism cerebral sphere, a place no bigger than a nut, that pulsates like a maniac tiny heart, where the most astounding chemicals are created... that part which ignites with the promise of a drug and delivers with the use of such drug, that is the same part of the brain desire for women stems from. In evolutionary terms, it makes no sense to have a single sexually faithful male because, well, the possibility of such man reproducing would be greatly diminished, his chances to replicate himself close to nonexistent. In nature, as I have mentioned many times before, there are very few species that are truly monogamous. Nature favors diversity in all its forms, and when I mean nature, I'm referring to females. If we are hypothetically out there, cheating on our partners, just who do you think we are doing so with if not other women? Of course, you may argue, men could be with other men too, but I bet that is not what worries the average female when her man steps out on his own. And this too makes evolutionary sense, since two men can't reproduce, right? Men release in a single ejaculative load enough sperm cells to fertilize half a continent. It is amazing they are not literally out there jumping the bones out of any woman they may come across with. For one, and I'm speaking to myself now, just like desiring them, we feel the urge to defecate. Except we don't do so in our pants as soon as the urge to do so manifests itself. It is the same with desire: we dwell in it, as if it really were a matter of life or death if a woman wanted us back in return. Why, I ask, is it that men, just as soon as they see a cute little thing, they're not only ready to betray their loved one, but also betray anything they may stand for. They see a nice ass, a great pair of boobs (pardon my French), and that is enough for them to go chasing mirages, to ignore more common ground: You may find her ass the most appealing to your animalistic nature, and in order to get it, you sacrifice far more significant traits. Sure, she has a nice ass but how about that "tongue", haven't you taken that into account? I mean, you may get to bang that ass from time to time, and as time passes by, may even get less play in the field, but you have to live with that foul mouth day in and out. No ass is worth that!
Silence. I'm not done yet.
It takes me time, not for nothing I've mastered the art of delaying the orgasm in order to maximize the experience. Good things take effort, time, so patience my pet.
I do wholeheartedly believe that monogamy makes sense in more than one way. It is at the very core of the problem: men simply want so much that they really have a hard time finding themselves and coming to this simple realization: it is about quality. Sure, it is hard not to stray. But when you really think about it, why would you? When you have the best possible partner, that is, it makes total sense. And I'm all about making sense, aren't I? Besides, for such a woman, finding such prospect is, well, extremely difficult, to say the least. Hey, guys, listen closely: women pick up on your shit long before you open your mouth and I can say with impunity that among the things they pick up from a man like me is, this guy is not needy. How dare he not want me, I demand to know! I imagine them subconsciously saying to themselves.
Best, and I'm going on a limb here, to connect with them and be truthful, for a change. What a man wants, he can find around the corner: a beautiful woman comes in a bunch. All you need to do is, stick your head out and you'll find one. However, a man who stands for something, a man of principles in principle, well, that is a rare treat. She knows in her heart of hearts that that is something she can't mess with. And so they come sit next to me in the train, complete strangers have fallen asleep on my shoulders, follow in my footsteps as if I was the last Diet Coke can in the dessert. And, honestly, I'm not. I'm a far cry from it. Yeah, sure, I stand six feet tall, am fairly handsome, intimidating looking, fun as hell, and so self-assured it'd make Superman crap on his pants. But that is no reason, no comparison to what I have experienced. But the truth of the matter is, there are guys out there, taller, smoother, better looking than me. And if you haven't noticed yet, the difference is, no matter how much and for how long you want to debate this, given the written evidence, I'm not as self-centered, ego-based, as you'd like to believe. If you insist on the contrary, you simply haven't come across one the likes of me. And chances are, you won't in a lifetime.Where has the element of sweetness gone? I mean, what happened friendship first? Isn't that the cornerstone of our evil civilization? Well, no. Just like when we were kids, many of us had imaginary friends, as adults we have imaginary enemies. Everyone has their own agenda, we all live under different skies. My exceptional being is no exception either.
The twist is, the woman I speak of is not here. She wasn't here even when my lover was lying next to me. No, I haven't found her. She's not the person I've been with for the last ten years. And I find myself in a very strange and yet wonderful position. This place I'm coming from has me completely abandoned and cheers, I salute this solitude (not loneliness), I embrace it, I feel invigorated by it. Yet, inequivocably, I do miss her and, more than anything or anyone in the world, I miss my kid. It is a sacrifice unlike any I've faced before, but I will not compromise my terms. It has been my choice.
The day that my son babbled, "Da, da", I thought to myself: atheist as I may be, if there is no God, there has to be Something quite like it. And to that God, I pray.
Every sleepless night, I dare dream.
Old lovers are, to use Gabriel García Márquez's words, good to the touch and comfortable like old slippers. What a crude analogy, that old fuck great writer sure is right, though. Except you can't help but to look at other shiner, brand new shoes, staring at you from behind the glass on the store of life. They may not be as comfortable, you may try to see yourself fit in them, walk the morning earth, party and then return them in exchange for your old comfy slippers. That I love her, no doubt. I shall say more, yes... I'm mournful, like someone who loses something sacred, a limb or the false identity a long-term job may offer. It's hard work, of course. Monogamy, that is. Yes, I am faithful to the full extent of word. I value it great.
I'll let you in on a little secret: it wasn't always this way. I learnt the hard way. I already mentioned the hard work part, didn't I? And that's just it. In principle, good things in life generally require some work. To build a great body, to quit smoking cigarettes, to embark on a project, unlike what some self-improvement gurus say, isn't effortless, it demands initially a great deal out of us: to redirect our sense of direction, focus, a shift in our perception. Afterwards, it comes with ease, once the eye to see things in a different light is developed, effortlessness kicks in. Suddenly, and with enormous amazement, you find there really isn't anything that you can't do. First and foremost, it's an act of abandonment. You need to rid yourself of the inner dialogue you're currently engaged in, contemplate the alternate possibility as something feasible, in lack for a better word, even tangible. You can touch it, feel it, smell it... We all possess this quality. It just hasn't been exercised enough, and like a muscle, in time, it can only be strengthened by your diligence. Am I making sense yet?
As a man, I saw only one thing: ass, legs, hair. And not that I escaped this most pittiful state altogether, I still admire form, aesthetics, beauty, in essence. Except, I'm no longer a sucker for it. What I value nowadays is a far more precious flower, like the lotus, a rare breed, something you can't help but marvel at. Not out of neediness, of course, quite the opposite. Men are guilty of one sin: wanting it too much, too often, and like the perfect drug, they can't have enough. Studies have found that the most ancient part of the brain, the one that deals with the utmost essential drives, in the reward mechanism cerebral sphere, a place no bigger than a nut, that pulsates like a maniac tiny heart, where the most astounding chemicals are created... that part which ignites with the promise of a drug and delivers with the use of such drug, that is the same part of the brain desire for women stems from. In evolutionary terms, it makes no sense to have a single sexually faithful male because, well, the possibility of such man reproducing would be greatly diminished, his chances to replicate himself close to nonexistent. In nature, as I have mentioned many times before, there are very few species that are truly monogamous. Nature favors diversity in all its forms, and when I mean nature, I'm referring to females. If we are hypothetically out there, cheating on our partners, just who do you think we are doing so with if not other women? Of course, you may argue, men could be with other men too, but I bet that is not what worries the average female when her man steps out on his own. And this too makes evolutionary sense, since two men can't reproduce, right? Men release in a single ejaculative load enough sperm cells to fertilize half a continent. It is amazing they are not literally out there jumping the bones out of any woman they may come across with. For one, and I'm speaking to myself now, just like desiring them, we feel the urge to defecate. Except we don't do so in our pants as soon as the urge to do so manifests itself. It is the same with desire: we dwell in it, as if it really were a matter of life or death if a woman wanted us back in return. Why, I ask, is it that men, just as soon as they see a cute little thing, they're not only ready to betray their loved one, but also betray anything they may stand for. They see a nice ass, a great pair of boobs (pardon my French), and that is enough for them to go chasing mirages, to ignore more common ground: You may find her ass the most appealing to your animalistic nature, and in order to get it, you sacrifice far more significant traits. Sure, she has a nice ass but how about that "tongue", haven't you taken that into account? I mean, you may get to bang that ass from time to time, and as time passes by, may even get less play in the field, but you have to live with that foul mouth day in and out. No ass is worth that!
Silence. I'm not done yet.
It takes me time, not for nothing I've mastered the art of delaying the orgasm in order to maximize the experience. Good things take effort, time, so patience my pet.
I do wholeheartedly believe that monogamy makes sense in more than one way. It is at the very core of the problem: men simply want so much that they really have a hard time finding themselves and coming to this simple realization: it is about quality. Sure, it is hard not to stray. But when you really think about it, why would you? When you have the best possible partner, that is, it makes total sense. And I'm all about making sense, aren't I? Besides, for such a woman, finding such prospect is, well, extremely difficult, to say the least. Hey, guys, listen closely: women pick up on your shit long before you open your mouth and I can say with impunity that among the things they pick up from a man like me is, this guy is not needy. How dare he not want me, I demand to know! I imagine them subconsciously saying to themselves.
Best, and I'm going on a limb here, to connect with them and be truthful, for a change. What a man wants, he can find around the corner: a beautiful woman comes in a bunch. All you need to do is, stick your head out and you'll find one. However, a man who stands for something, a man of principles in principle, well, that is a rare treat. She knows in her heart of hearts that that is something she can't mess with. And so they come sit next to me in the train, complete strangers have fallen asleep on my shoulders, follow in my footsteps as if I was the last Diet Coke can in the dessert. And, honestly, I'm not. I'm a far cry from it. Yeah, sure, I stand six feet tall, am fairly handsome, intimidating looking, fun as hell, and so self-assured it'd make Superman crap on his pants. But that is no reason, no comparison to what I have experienced. But the truth of the matter is, there are guys out there, taller, smoother, better looking than me. And if you haven't noticed yet, the difference is, no matter how much and for how long you want to debate this, given the written evidence, I'm not as self-centered, ego-based, as you'd like to believe. If you insist on the contrary, you simply haven't come across one the likes of me. And chances are, you won't in a lifetime.Where has the element of sweetness gone? I mean, what happened friendship first? Isn't that the cornerstone of our evil civilization? Well, no. Just like when we were kids, many of us had imaginary friends, as adults we have imaginary enemies. Everyone has their own agenda, we all live under different skies. My exceptional being is no exception either.
The twist is, the woman I speak of is not here. She wasn't here even when my lover was lying next to me. No, I haven't found her. She's not the person I've been with for the last ten years. And I find myself in a very strange and yet wonderful position. This place I'm coming from has me completely abandoned and cheers, I salute this solitude (not loneliness), I embrace it, I feel invigorated by it. Yet, inequivocably, I do miss her and, more than anything or anyone in the world, I miss my kid. It is a sacrifice unlike any I've faced before, but I will not compromise my terms. It has been my choice.
The day that my son babbled, "Da, da", I thought to myself: atheist as I may be, if there is no God, there has to be Something quite like it. And to that God, I pray.
Every sleepless night, I dare dream.
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