Old folks

I have sat coincidentally next to two old folks, a golden couple, in the last two weeks, and thought how we'd see less and less of people growing old together. I still feel they're the luckiest of people, I often find myself envious. How beautiful it'd be to grow old together with someone you love.

Less is more

I'll speak eyes, not words. You can only dump when you speak more than necessary. No matter how interesting your message, don't think a witty argument will save the day. Express how you feel with actions, less is more.

Character is shown more by a display of dominance, a mastery of our emotional state, just like in meditation we aim at quieting the mental chattering voices. It is not what we say but how and when; keep them in suspense, if possible. Your words would only expose yourself as to what constitutes your present governing thought, your most immediate concern, your focus even. When you adopt the way of the observer, you become ever the more powerful, as if you were given an epistemic god-like center where you can see all, tastefully dismiss others' attempts at persuading you. You keep centered and everything else will gravitate towards your magnetic pull. And the universe with all its far away  constellations will revolve around you. It is alpha not to entertain others, and not to behave as a lowly social clown. Keep the world at an arm's length. 

Conundrum

We speak unfavorably about the ego. Ego is what we are, nonetheless. It is a battle of the egos, whether we decide to forgive or to resent, when we hate those we love..usually, it's all just a way to stroke our narcissistic pole.
The reason we choose to be more spiritually evolved than the norm, but not make it the norm to acquire ever so higher states of goodness and righteousness, is because we deal with  the not-so-ideal, based, demeaning world of ours: it doesn't pay to exhibit manners among troglodytes. How our ego then works as a time management tool, deflating the blows by maneuvering in the ambivalence between utter indifference and downright arrogance.
If you suddenly decide to rid of your ego, it's cause enough to make someone else's ego enlarged; so, say I go about apologizing for the err of my ways and trying to patch things up, I'd be doing so just to make myself feel better, and in the end the recipient may appreciate more the self-esteem boost paid by the compliment than the messanger's well-intended act. Indelibly, love is both: selfless and selfish.
Nothing makes us happier- or should anyway- than making others feel good. It's that simple: if we do good is because it feels good; therefore, altruism is filtered egotism, and one may take offense when our "good intentions" fall on deaf ears.

This shouldn't mean the ego is bad. Or good, for that matter. It is a survival mechanism and as such: it reacts at the slightest threat. It magnifies offences: if anything reeks of urgency and demands a great deal of drama, then it sure has the ego as the perpetrator. The ego is a self-serving despot. It self-proclaims itself king, but has no truce, no peace of mind in mind. First she had to endure the boring Christmas eve night at my family's. Then she's nice enough to bring a cake and get you a really sweet Gucci cologne; you, on the other hand, forget her tanning gift certificate which she options you to keep or give away (one suggestion, she adds, my cousin Eve).And on top of that you give her shit because we didn't take any pictures.
When, in reality, you resent her for not going to your place. She only spent last week seeing you every night!

You ought to listen to your ego and then do the opposite it says. You can instill others with your courageous soul, win all battles, but you won't go far without pride in this culture. That's what makes acts of kindness more rare, but if we dare go beyond our comfort zone and reach out to those we cherish the most from time to time, that's a healthy dose of ego, otherwise known as pride.
And you won't get far with too much of it either. Too much of it is arrogance. You need to be bold and seize the right moment.
You need balance. The right amount of good and the right amount of bad. Not bad in the mean-spirited way, but of the naughty, cunning kind. Treat others well and give up your need to control. Arrogance should never be rewarded but it can easily be a case of inexperience. Maybe things are going too fast for her as they appear to go slow for me, maybe a little patience is exerted by letting her cool off. And if she doubts my resolve, then it's just a matter of proving her wrong.

More importantly, I will prove myself by claiming my independence, by continuing the pursuit of personal goals, by actively engaging in more ambitious projects... not just by hanging my happiness around her neck. Women can sense when you make them the center of your life, they only want to be an important part of it. Your woman wants a man she can look up to. Do the hard work at hand and only then can you tend to anything other. Don't wait forever. It takes patience and dedication. Give yourself time to recuperate. Time to envision the path ahead once we find the way out of this conundrum.

Higher States of Mind

The problem is not the reasons why we get angry; the problem is finding a good enough reason to give up our precious peace of mind. Beth takes offense at my words in the course of an argument that took place a long time ago; she resents me for past actions that were never taken with the intention of hurting her. Victim types want to make you feel guilty and dignify their poor state of mind. We can't help but sometimes lose our nerve and show our proverbial teeth and claws, but as soon as we can, aim at taking the reigns away from madness and go back to tending the affairs of our lives with cooler heads. Let's not rationalize why we lose control; let's not fool ourselves, we're not in control but on autopilot. So aim at keeping your cool by not overreacting, don't value anything more than your peace of mind.

Of course, sometimes we need to fight. But half of the battle in a fight is how you manage your opponent's aggression. You can choose to remain centered and give up the illusion that it has anything to do with the issue at hand. Once you lose control, you've lost the battle. Your state of mind shouldn't be so volatily dependant on the matters argued; your focus should solely rest on being centered and right on point. It's hard only if you're trying it for the first time. Then it becomes second nature, like a layer of skin you didn't know you had underneath.
Plans are in place. Instead of spending time dining and wining, or watching tv, we should check out the courses offered by CUNY. There's a CUNY center right next to where I work. Also, a good restaurant right next door.

What you can communicate is limited to the capacity of understanding your listener has. People see what they've been conditioned to see. Think of how many aspects of yourself you'd like to change, and change takes effort initially and then it's effortless. That which you aim at becoming, you already are. Forget trying to change other people's minds, it's a futile and unfulfiling task. Sitting on a train platform awaiting the train, I become slightly concerned that it is taking longer than usual; there, I recognize my own state of mind, so I work effortlessly at keeping the peace within: haven't we gone through this passage of rite before? I ask myself. But shouldn't I be worried that I might be late? Well I have been many times late, and the consequences have rarely merited the inner turmoil I put myself through before I get there. Either get up earlier or just stop this mental nagging.

It's time I commit to paper that the lack of closure can ultimately spell our doom. We do communicate indirectly through social media outlets such as Facebook and Instagram, but I do not post much, in fact very little as of late. Nor have I gone liking other people's stuff. Such times we live. It's actually a world within a world, although it can never replace actual contact, it offers a degree of comfort and connection between peers. Recently I bought myself a smartphone, like two days ago, and I already feel the difference. You're there and then, rather than where you actually are. Your friends, your family, their interests and photos, it really is a good subterfuge. I enjoy people and I enjoy my friends, I am most familiar among strangers. As of late, I've been sort of couch potato, even though I put work around the place and manage to exercise from time to time, slowly building into a habit. I've reduced the amount of cigarettes, aim at quitting like I did before cold turkey. 

Oh of course we miss those we leave behind, but we must outgrow our emotional dependence on them, see how long can we go before we show our face. I enjoy seeing them on Saturdays when I get back late from work. Mostly though I've always been a lonely hunter. I enjoy my existence more by limiting the amount of human interaction. Even though my mom is staying with me for the time being, I am ready to move on to better things, these just take time and now I am getting back in shape, going for the FSD license, renew my driving license, seeing Julian, maybe leasing a car, getting a bigger apartment. No time for romance, I tell myself.

I don't spend a lot when I go out and I've done so locally. Twenty dollars: four beers (one buy-back, at no charge), three at $4 each, but what I usually do is I have a couple of screwdrivers at home with my music and smokes, and then I head over there, really late, almost closing time. The thing is, I'd rather stay home and watch stuff on Roku, stream to my TV through chromecast, or blast my music. I guess I am self-reliant, but I'm also 

Like a Good magician

A good magician never reveals its secret. We all keep under ourselves' sleeves tricks we reserve for the right moment, the proper crowd. Under the table of our first date go hidden all the monsters of past ghosts, our flaws and insecurities, like a stain on our otherwise spotless immaculate white shirt you're guarded and contrite. Like a magician, we seduce with our act but it has acquired perfect equilibrium thru sheer practice, to you is a brand new thing, born out of the spontaneity and owe, but to the magician is nothing more than a mere mimicry of his skilled hands, his art exhibit, his lonesome freak show stance, who knows? Maybe the magician is grown cold and distant from his disdain and tricks. Or perhaps the magician has succumbed to his egomaniac scheme, and take pride in his charm and poise, do his job without the slightest shred of shame, devoid of any excesses. Once the moment passes by, the memory of it all fades overtime, even the most courageous heart will soon be forgotten. Oblivion will obliterate all there is, all that will, so we hold on vehemently to the hissing by-product of this present moment, gone with the wind, forever erased from the collective consciousness of things. 

But just like that, too, magic requires a degree of implicit deception. It takes practice, discipline and a concerted effort to fool the prying eyes, following your every move, suspiciously. It is the act of not getting caught in the act while performing it, that's the magic of it, and in the end we're pleased with the lie, even celebrate and applaud in our bewilderment. 

The Cool Spectrum

You can't feed a lion with bird food. 

Of course, you want more, you're the man and you demand more of yourself. You calmly call her bluff, there are other men who'll want to stick around and play the friend role. We can't never be friends, I don't know you, I can't trust you, but rarely the likes of us mix, so you make a few concessions, so long as you meet half way. For instance, we no longer go to the movies, so she suggested first to forget the movie and go to the local bar instead. Then she suggested we sit on a two-people round table by the speaker, where everyone could see us. I wanted to go to the back, where the comfy chairs give a more intimate feeling, quieter too. 

We had walked under the rain there. Then she ordered buffalo wings and a beer. "Okay, what gives?" I called her out with a smile on my face: "First, you want to come here, then you drink beer and order wings." She's full of pleasant surprises.
I wanted oblivion, so I had three long island iced-teas; luckily, they weren't that strong. She didn't want to do shots. She paid for what she drank and ate, and we ended up in the sofa, I was slightly inebriated, so I got soft touching her hair, kissing her face, wrapping our legs, me in underwear. We watched a couple of episodes of Nip/Tuck. I didn't make a move. I kissed her forcibly a couple of times, sloppy move but just so that she doesn't get too comfortable around me, sometimes even spanking her as she walks by. She'd resist me taking her pants off, but doesn't remove my hands between her legs a moment later. I grab the palm of her hand and place it on the left side of my chest: "Hear how my pulse doesn't escape a beat" I whisper in her ear. Like a river galloping under her statuesque body, her breathing increases as the scenes depicted on screen get sexier, her pupils widen, my hand retreats all the way to her hair, I love the way it smells: follow tact by smell, immersed in a dance of senses. 

I look at her in the eye and show no fear, like I would an incestuous sister. Then I see an aperture, an orifice in the delicate fabric of schemes, and I take it. I have seen this episode, not missing much, so I picked her apart. 

Of course a lion has a big appetite, but girls, when it comes to the passions, are more like birds. If they know they can have your company without having to put out, then they're going to do just that. You need to be patient, too, because oftentimes girls require more space and time, we hold hands, cuddle and once upon a time had sex. Of course, you want to make the girl feel safe and relax around you; therefore you should be sure of yourself and relaxed around her. By doing the opposite, by being all over her, you're telegraphing your neediness (your own insatiable self, your self-deprecation, your very own savage's mental cave). As a man, you get to make a move, but don't make one every few minutes: it looses its potency. You need to establish value, not depreciate your stake. Don't be picking up the crumbs. However, if she doesn't want to have sex, it's fine; just don't settle for less. This is an opportunity to practice tantric love: spiritual oneness, center, kindness . You have her being, do not ask for more than what is given right this moment; what you want, you will take, and you show more character by drawing the line, like erecting a wall, between you and the world, sometimes inviting her in, at certain times shutting her out. You act kindly towards her simply by being patient, paying attention to details concealed in the subtle shift of movemeny. You show up by not overcrowding her, by not giving in to temptation, by tempting her, by exuding a cool spectrum where everything that surrounds you inevitably gets pulled by your gravitational core. You want to go really slow, be ever so firm, breath fully, take no shortcuts, and never be out of control.

Heuristics

Sit at work, count each sliced second, ticking away the dull moments that add up to culminate in a day. Day in and out we conceive of things to come, piling up stones to the invisible wall that envelops us, guarded away from those around. Let's think of ways to cut down our caloric intake, make sure the laundry and the grocery get done, take your own prepared meals to work, choose the clothes you'll wear to your date tonight (is it a date?), call and set up a meeting with an old flame, study the FSD material and ace the exam at Metrotech. Continue to heal, it is a mindful process, focus now and rip the rewards later. Life is how well you manage your resources -which are limited- and in what direction will your journey take you. Rather than envisioning your goal as a tedious and grueling task ahead, think of it instead as you would of an adventure. Nothing planned for too long or unplanned for is worth our effort; part of it is almost mechanic, heuristics, like second nature.

From the platform above the rails, the train slides right on through the rainy night, even the weather doesn't put a stop to the spectacle of lights and wonder this city is. What to do now? Where to turn? What great adventures will the night bring along? Doesn't always happiness come with a side of misery? Isn't the light that propels all shadows? Someone once said that no one knows enough to be a pessimist; the inverse rationale is true as well. Of course, willpower is mostly an illusion, nature didn't leave to chance our destiny, it didn't leave to divine  inspiration the complexities life's bestowed upon us, and it didn't leave acts of kindness to the poor, random and often weak ability to choose. In the end, we choose nothing and we're all out of control.
Fear bounds us all.

Your Highness

Lately, I waged war against allies, friends and family of mine, but not the way I used to. Some dirty war, unfair lashing out, uncontrollable bouts of anger. 

The culprit? Nicotine withdrawal, toppled with a mind ailed by subtle to moderate depression. Get rid of anger, do not get tangled up in emotional debates, needless confrontations, meditate and then meditate some more, listen to ambient music, landscape sounds full of rivers and chirping birds, and appease the untamed beast that dwells underneath the most insignificant offense, the ego. Careful not to offend Your Highness, or else heads will roll. 

Except I make no direct verbal attack, no personal confrontation, just retreat and leave the land up for grabs, ripe for the picking. That's right: in order to be delivered and released from the mental asylum of angst, something must give, someone must surrender, leave your arms and your slippers at the entrance of this house. Enter without ego, for you will not make it out alive if you take too much of anything. Pick your own memories, build them overtime, replenish the malnourished spiritual gaps; raindrops will hit the windowpane, sometimes shit. The monster lurks underneath the most insignificant blow, ready to strike. The monster doesn't know what it is: it will show no compassion, it will tear apart the most intimate fabric of our bond, it'll bleed, dry up and heal. 

We'll always have another chance to show our compassion, to be of service, to take up the real fight and make the most honorable out of whatever chance affords us, cleansed and washed anew in the misty sunlight. 

Earlier peaceful tribes were taken over by more aggressive tribes, our ancestors had to either killed or be killed, if we are here, it is a testament that some of those killer genes we inherit. That's not all that is left of our genetic legacy, of course. But we do have a violent past and not the most peaceful now either, but we do live in perhaps the most peaceful of times in our history, despite the proliferation of nuclear weapons, somehow we've managed to live with technology that would annihilate us for three quarters of a century, since the end of the second World War. It is a good sign and there's no shame in feeling a bit optimistic. A lot of work has yet to be done, we can start by dealing with others in a less reactive manner, more peacefully, the world reflects whatever you mirror yourself in and turns out into whatever transformation you're undertaking inside: these are like heads and tails of a singular coin. 

No need to go up in arms, no sense in raising vast armies to defend your land. If you sat idly, they'd conquer you; you had to either go on the offense or be conquered. If you want peace, said the old adage, prepare for war. That was then; the worst has been left behind. There's reasonable argument for hope but more vitally so we need the good will and hard work of those unwilling to compromise souls, those who'll take the fight to uncertainty and build horizons where there were only barriers before. If our efforts aren't met with the same passion, is that maybe we haven't been passionate enough. 

A Beautiful Lie

Have I ever been to her place? No. I’m not sure she lives where she says she lives. I don’t know any of her friends. The lack of nicotine will unleash the demon in me. Somewhere, I read, studies show that will-power is an illusion, and that whenever we devote ourselves to the causes at heart, we can't tag them all at once, so we work with what we have. First, quit smoking and then move on to bigger, brighter things; but first, this I must endure and this will not be an easy task. It won't be impossible, but I have a way of making it look easy. I don't talk much about it and it hasn't been nearly as hard as I thought it'd be. I know, it'd be harder if I let another day pass by, so today would've been harder to quit than three weeks ago. As I look at myself, I treat myself harshly, I am not perfect but I am nonetheless a perfectionist. Just the same, I scrutinize others, with the same loving demonic eyes. 

I see her. She's far more evolved than I was at her age. Women tend to mature emotionally faster than men. I may have been a brighter, more introspective soul back then but there's really no standpoint from which I can compare experiences. 
She's not perfect but seems sweet enough. She fights with smiles, looks, silence, a deep inhalation. But certain things do not paint the fairest picture so no reason why I should go creating my own fairy-tale. 

It says there, she lives in another state, right on her Facebook info. It says, not much more, just a whole bunch of party people in the state she supposedly lives. And she goes there on weekends, to take care of matters that pertain to regular days. She rarely stays over, but she has; no sex, no kiss (yeah, you heard right), just cuddling from time to time. Of course, we were intimate once: no kissing. 

Look, this is a bit strange to me. I said it to her bluntly, "I can take rejection, I can't take uncertainty." Of course, not in those terms, but whenever I get the chance, I make sure she knows where I'm coming from, she can't feel too safe around me but she knows she's safe. I can grab her out of nowhere and kiss her, I grab her ass, I kiss her face, I smell her hair, I feel her skin, and we play the game like the skilled players we are. No jealousy, no drama, so I need to make sure it lasts: no Facebook. 

We all have our flawsand we all know something more of other people. I have yet to know anything based on her Facebook profile. It doesn't say she lives in New York. We all lie, but I don't really know anything else about her. I am a trusted person, and it's because I trust people. She's undoubtedly nice, she has been fun to be around, and I cannot count down the times I see her. It's win or lose. No middle ground for love. 
No place for thirds, we come first. 
Simple love guidelines that help in the process of this beautiful lie. 

Red Flags

I don't spend a lot of time in the local bar. I go there once a week, have a few beers, drinks, not like I used to. In my twenties I drank the most, but it was really a long weekend thing, and it didn't last long. By my late twenties, I was assistant manager to a small security firm based out of New Jersey; they gave me a car, paid for everything, and it was not a time that I ever drank: I worked seven days a week, any hour of the day, and still then I had time to see my friends and take a girl out. In fact, it was something I looked forward to: the weekend. 

Nowadays, it's different. When Esteban was born, I stopped but also left home due to problems with his mom. We soon thereafter took different paths and have had an amicable relationship, not exempt of drama altogether but decent enough. It's not because I have sons that I don't go out much. It's because, well, I'm old. And I'm too old to not notice if a person spends all of their time on the phone when they're with you, why couldn't they just answer a text? You let things of this nature slide over and over again, punishing with indifference, and the instances become less pronounced, What to do if they occur again?

Well, you take measures. Look, it's okay if you can't answer back but if you initiated the conversation, then end it. I don't ask nothing compromising, but you will get an answer from me. It's just a no-no in my book to tolerate women get away with murder. Rudeness should never be something you have to suffer without consequences. We're not talking about the ego. We're talking about not inflating their ego by letting slide too many things all at once. Minimize your interactions, and you only talk if you see each other, not on the phone. That works for me, it's ideal, I have things to take care, people to please, places to go, and I enjoy what we have because is benevolent. We know each other for a few months, if things were meant to be, they'd be by now. It's not right to lead a man on, the way you have; I understand, girls play hard to get, and I love giving chase, but I don't too much of an effort with her and it is a relaxed atmosphere, not without my attempts at her. Of course, if she didn't want me at all, then I suppose it'd make no sense really to spend time with me. That's just a bad dynamic. 

Of course, I had girlfriends who wouldn't sleep with me, some who started as friends and later on became more, and others it was just instantaneous. With her, I didn't initially take much notice. I was still in love with Connie when she moved in with me, and by then Connie and I were done. We had our silly, melodramatic fights, because, I insist, she's feisty, and I hate bullies, so we clash. Oh, I'm just teasing. Look, all melodrama aside, you've got to be careful because before you know it, girls can entangle you in their sensationalist webs and you can become a slave to their whims. Of course, I love playing along, you never know people's hearts by merely looking at their face. Here we have someone who has met friends, family of mine, and has been to my place in more than a few occasions; I've yet to meet one of her friends, or see her place. Well, look, it's the guy's place the default destination. But we are friends, though we behave like old lovers: no drama, no sex. And I had that before, and I love how intimacy builds, but in the past we were making out. I get the "no sex" policy takes place, it happens, girls always need time and space, and I give plenty of that. But the no-kissing, that is just odd. 

Sex workers and rapists do not kiss. There's intimacy involved, but also the withheld of power by the woman by playing the sex card right. Of course, there's even a name for it: cock teasing. I'll articulate: if you don't like the guy, simply leave him, don't toy with him; date only those who you will like. A healthy ego I have, and you shouldn't settle for so little. I'm not asking for much, but even I had to endure the pity-pat (you know, when a girl pats you as in "There, there" kind of taking pity on you) and I stopped there right there. I love hugs, and she seems cold and distant. That's not my kind of people. Well, what to do? Look, she's not a Facebook person, doesn't post more than once a month, so why is she communicating over Facebook? Who cares, truth is girls behave irrationally all the time, I'm not perplexed, but she goes without answering a text and being nice enough to talk to me on Facebook. Then when I reply, she's gone. Okay, so she talks to me and then ignores me. What is a man to do? I deleted her off Facebook, blocked her. I won't delete her from my life but Facebook is something I do more often, with baby pics and comments etc. and I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder if I post more than a girl I'm seeing. Yeah, "Seeing" is the right term. We've gone all places, and it's been mostly fun; I just feel like there's something else going on. It's fine by me, we all lead busy and demanding lives, and you're only young and beautiful once, so I understand. What I do is, I limit my exposure, if I read things correctly I can move on, it's up to me to cut things neat and make the right move. 

It's not machismo, or sexism, it's not the end of the world either. I need to cut down on everything, and it's not like I spend any money on her. She doesn't owe me any of her time, is what I don't get. I enjoy her company, but she has some bad habits. There are some red flags I cannot possibly ignore. 

Sleep Awaits

I'm noble, something you don't see as you first meet me. I am also somewhat methodical. I keep testing what I know, learning everyday, so I'm not sure what I'm into now will be the same in a few days. We adapt as we go along, as in damage control, sometimes you pull out before it is too late. There is such a thing as too early, too. You don't walk into someone else's life and own it, you give what you seek for yourself: freedom of choice, plenty of space, no drama (excess anger, bickering, stuff women are normally known for, spineless guys too), unless your behavior merits some character. I try not to engage others when I'm angry, anid I'm never angry for long. Anger is something that builds, as a result of a stressful situation or an agitated imagination.

"I can't believe you could get mad over that" I tease a friend of mine over something that I didn't think was a problem. The problem cannot be without the mind. We fail to see that the turmoil a situation may arise in us should be grounds for us to process such possibility, or perception (of events, of people which can be so conflicted and self-serving), and it is like an alarm. It doesn't have to remind you of whatever worry or regret that crosses the mind. Extract yourself from the world around by making time to spend alone, through long walks, exercise, reading, meditation, and sometimes even engaging people. It's being now, and not thinking about what the weekend might bring; fun is all around, just have to be willing to change minds, it widens your horizons. 

Lately, I've limited the amount of fun. As a precaution, I may not go out because recently I stopped smoking cigarettes. I picked up smoking again (after quitting for seven years) for a few months, like five months. Cigarette addiction can be very costly in New York. That, and all the health issues surrounding it, it is never too early to quit, it's just a worthless gamble. I may have spent money I could have used otherwise, but at the time I was under a lot of stress and felt like being careless and unhealthy for a little while, misbehaving is always in my nature.
I like myself. I have a blast. No, it's not lonely, lonely people usually forget themselves. And not that we should just shy away from the world, no; we may engage other people, locally or on the net. Even when you're out there, you're out there in the Internet. Facebook is where we see what our friends and family are up to, I go there at least a few times daily. It is always good to see friends, though, not just use media to communicate. I am warm-blooded, need contact from time to time. Nothing will replace human contact. 

Now as far as Saturdays go, I retired them long ago. No need to go to overcrowded places, with tons of youngsters competing for the girls' attention and the girls go with their guard up, and you always end up spending so much and meeting some of the scariest people. It's good, I'm not being a hypocrite. But it gets tiring after a decade or so, you don't stop, just pace yourself. You become selective, if you do go out, you do so for a couple of hours, spend no more than certain amount, etc. It looks easy, but the reality is that if you know what you're doing, you don't have to be going out every weekend. You don't need to go out necessarily for that purpose when you do, and you'll attract people if you don't give off that creepy feeling that you lack something. I love going into crowded places, and just sit there minding my business, having my drink, not everything in life is about the girl. Of course, it's not like I can ignore them, believe me they'll show themselves in, they'll be somehow elbowing me at the bar, but only because I am not going to kiss her ass. Girls crave character and attitude in a man. A man who will not bow before her, stand his ground and qualifies her, punishes her bad behavior with aloofness, never lets her see you sweat. Anything she does or says is to see how you react. Your answer? Calmly call her on her bullshit, or just ignore her. Your choice, I'll probably go with the latter. Don't try to make her explain her behavior, just don't stand there taking a beating and don't argue over anything. Nothing is so serious that it'd have to be dealt with anger, best to let things slide and have some fun, relaxed tension and intense owe. Feel each other close, do good things for one another, forgive, forget, communicate and don't hold any grudges. 

We can relax in each others' presence, and if it gets too trying, then give it a rest and go back at it. We don't own one another, and we owe one another discretion. We're free to choose who we want to spend time with, so I ask only to know if plans are changed. Time is of essence, and though a bummer, I'll live, rather not die the slowest emotional death. When it comes to past lovers, I've made my peace, I keep up the good dad roll, I give plenty and receive almost as much, am always willing to work and I also like to take it easy. No need to complicate yourself, if something is dead, no reason to let it rot; bury it and that's that. 

If there's something, then pursue your heart, and see where it leads, be patient but not complacent, don't rush in but don't take forever either. I keep talking to myself, music is playing, drink awaits me. Look come back to these words later. 

(Ten minutes later)

At work, things will take place. I'll get my head around the FSD examination material and take the test in a few weeks. I'll have plenty of time to go travel to Michigan by the end of this year. I will travel early next year somewhere cool, somewhere I haven't been to, and take on new challenges, and continue to be smoke-free and exercise. Moving forward, plans that require execution will take front seat and decided not to go out anymore, for the time being. Besides, tomorrow I gotta get up early and I want to have a good night sleep. I love working weekends and have the amount of party-eligible nights be compromised, therefore I spend a whole lot less money and do stuff I really need to do throughout the week, including leisure: everyday make me-time. Part of our misery as human beings is that we don't get to enjoy ourselves. When you know just what to do on your own, you're never alone. Now it is nighttime. 

Have a drink or two, watch TV for half hour, and slowly sink into oblivion, sleep awaits. 

Love's Epiphany

As we waited for the E train on the platform, I looked at my oldest baby boy, Esteban, and saw that there was a little distance between us. I saw it, just like his mom has said, the neglect, the shame, the quiet desperation unraveling between us, like an invisible entity setting us apart. Therefore, I took the initiative to sit him closer to me, and be ever so much kinder and gentler towards him. It was as if I hadn't missed much again, as if just because of that gesture at closure I had recovered with one single slight of hand all of the time I had drifted away from him.

And so it hit me: my default mode is to run away from pain, I've done it all my life, and in the process I have sacrificed way too many precious things. It all stems from past ghosts, the yearning heart of a boy who spent his childhood dreaming of the day his own dad would show his face. Not that I expected him to come back, but at the very least appear like he had done once or twice in ten years. And the boy who’d spend time counting the days till being reunited with his mom, who could not have him because she wasn't financially fit to do so, meanwhile living under the roof of transient family members: ants, grandmothers, always women willing to do what women have always done best: nurture. In the end, mom did show and took me far away with her and my sisters, and we lived happily ever after since. She’s the unsung hero of this story, crazy as she can only be, I bet part of her sanity was lost in the wilderness of having to raise three children all on her on. That much at least I owe her.

And so I thought, what is it that keeps me always searching for safe haven and away from the challenges I must endure, if I am to thrive? Why run away now, when things seem slightly harder? It seems pointless to fear the skin of a beast you have already slain. Life, it is best to face and to find if the things we dared dream will come about, if we are to suffer let us do so by engaging in the very things that enthrall and fascinate us. Show your face around, like she has, and be willing to take the blow, if that’s what it takes. Happiness is not something that is given; you must grab the bull by its horns and bring it down, stare down the belly of the beast, show courage in every action taken. Fight for what you love, never stop dreaming and always take comfort in the fact you gave your all in this existential arena we call life.

I love my boy, and I will do more than I’ve been doing. You can only give up on things if love is depleted, so long as we are willing and able, we should do the decent thing of pushing forth. The child has inner world; the man looks outside of himself. We want to provide, we want to protect and we want to make god damn sure our efforts are met with the same passion and deliverance we instill them with. 

Event at work

There was an event at the conference room where I work. I had worked from seven in the morning, and was offered if I wanted to hang around for another two hours. There'd be food and drinks, but no music; all in attendance were women, and I was the only guy among them. Even the hosts, the writer presenting her book, and those in attendance, they ate and drank and talked and talked. There I was, surrounded by a sea of women in the prime of their careers, well-dressed, fifty or so beautiful women. I kept my masculine core and aura, then teased the girls serving as hosts. I joked I felt like that man in the axe deodorant commercial stuck in an island with hundreds of beautiful women and felt alive like I haven't for a while... it was a boost so desperately needed, a blow to the voices of doom lurking in the back of my mind. You do realize whatever it is you tell yourself, becomes real for you, regardless of its veracity. Act with high confidence and honor, be proud and warm, straight-forward and kind.

Love Child

Jules was conceived in South Beach. His mom and I were in love. He was a love child, and he is loved by our friends and family. Connie had her doubts initially as to whether she should have him, but it didn't take long before she decided to do so; I, on the other hand, couldn't be happier. Ever since I had my firstborn Stephan, I always wanted the opportunity to have another child. 

Back then, it was me and not the mom who didn't want a child in my life, but that all changed the minute his mom decided to do so. 

With Stephan, as it is the case with some fathers, I felt like my "freedom" would end and that it wasn't fair to bring a child into the mess we had made of our lives. Besides, I was afraid because she was already in her forties. That all changed gradually, and when I saw him emerge from his mom's womb, I fell head over heals for him. A few days old, he smiled at me and that is one of the most beautiful gifts life has ever bestowed upon me. Since day one, Stephan and I were inseparable, he changed me immensely, made me more responsible, less self-centered. 

His mom Beth had had another child, ten years earlier with another man, and so I had had with him my first parenting skills polished. I thought I loved him like a son, since I got him very young, until I had a son; it's not that I don't love my stepson, I do, but my son was a whole different ballgame. I never knew love like that could exist. 

When Jules was born, his brother was already seven years old. This time around, the mom was ten years younger than me, a beautiful girl who had never had a child, with whom I wanted to start life anew. In many ways, I kind of see her as I was back then: afraid of what the world might mean with a child in my life, maybe feeling unready for it. We all go through those uncertain phases, doubting our capacity to love, wanting freedom over commitment. In the end, there are no right or wrong choices, just uplifting and daring moves or stagnation. 

With Stephan, my worst fears came alive the day I was told he was diagnosed with autism. Little did his mom know what that meant and the first burst of anger was quietly manifested at the fact that this woman was so ignorant, as she casually informed me of it. As I heard the news, I started crying. I remember holding him in my arms and crying. Then I decided to change the world around him so that he had all the possibilities he could possibly have in order to lessen his ordeal. Little did I know how ignorant I was too. 

It wasn't his ordeal I had to lessen; it was the way I saw things that were up for review. My perspective was in disarray. It wasn't about changing him; it was about changing myself. It wasn't about teaching him about the world I lived in but instead learning all about the wonderful world he inhabited. It wasn't about expecting the world; it was about managing expectations. It was, in the end, from the very beginning, about him, not me. 

Of course, you're rarely as enlightened, and I'd be lying to myself and to others if I said that there are no voices of doom in the midst. The darkest prognosis for me had been, not having a father in my life and growing up with an overprotective mother: it was ironic that I, who hadn't had a relationship with my own father, now was destined to not have one with my son. Analyzed closely, that view wasn't accurate: first, I was going to have a relationship with my son; and secondly, I could always pick up from where I left off with my father. I tried to rekindle the ashes, reconnect the broken ties of our bond, spoke to him on his birthday, and once I sent him some money around Christmas time. I remember, yes, he wasn't home and I left him a message with his daughter, my little half sis Naomi, whom told him of my pecuniary intentions. The very next day he called, and this time it was me who wasn't home. Beth later informed me of a bombastic man who talked her down on the phone, and that night the same man called. It was my father. In an inebriated tone of voice, he bewailed about the woman who answered the phone earlier, and I let him finish his sentence before I assertively interjected: "You mean Beth." The aggression in his voice dropped and for the first time I knew I could never be a son to this man nor could he ever be a father to me: I had outgrown him. He quickly moved on with his agenda, blabbing in glazed mid-sentences, as if his initial strength had dwindled and abandoned him: "Your sister tells me you were gonna send me some money. How much are we talking about?" I softened my approach, it is not a manly attitude to adopt an air of arrogance before those in need, especially when they're relatives, even though his question begged for me to show a defiant stance I wanted to both show some humility and see where he wanted to go with this.
"Well, I was thinking eighty dollars would suffice" I played along, see where it'd lead me with him.
"If that's all you can muster, then I guess it's fine" he said, with a dismissive tone.
It made my stomach turn.
"Listen here", I said: " You can count on that money. There's just one thing that always bugged my mind, and I just wanted to let you in on it now that I have the time to do so."
"What's that?" he inquired.
"It always seemed to me like a puzzle but maybe you can shed some light into this mystery: How is it that a man can one day pick up and leave his wife with three of his children, and never ever look back?" I asked, of course, rhetorically.
A deafening silence befell the conversation and tears drowned his voice, his thoughts floated but his mind never surfaced, he had really nothing to say to that. 

Russian Roulette

I left from work and walked up the street, from 42nd to 54th street on 2nd avenue, entered a few establishments, saw crowds of people but did not stay anywhere for long, until I decided that I had seen enough and it was time to head back to Queens. By the time I got there, only my cousins (two girls, two guys with their respective girlfriends; one of the girls works there and really isn't a cousin but a cousin of a cousin of mine, and the other girl, a cousin cousin, left shortly after I got there.. it was her birthday), a few hardcore regulars, some others, I didn't really look around and I sat on the familiar side of the bar. 

Usually, I propel into action, move aside, sit alone, step out of my comfort zone and into the unknown. It really is that simple, and it makes all the difference, the more we get used to doing and being with those who are closest to us, the less we get to know the ones that are new. You must do away with the old if you must move toward fresher, uncharted territory. Three beers down, I noticed a familiar face, that feeling you get when you know you've seen someone before, you just can't pinpoint exactly where or when. I knew that the girl coveting my cousin's cousin cousin, the cousin that's not really our cousin but I call cousin, was someone I had seen before. She wasn't a regular, and she's not part of those who work there as I initially suspected, but I had seen her. Then I saw Kristina, sitting diagonally from me, on the opposite side of the bar. She was with her friend and two guys, and one of the guys had grown cozy, trying to hug her as she shoved him off, looking my way. She had probably noticed me before I noticed her, and it was too late in the night to go talk to her, not that I wanted to either. I simply kept doing what I was doing, but she went out for a smoke and the guy she was with followed her, and again, she tried to avoid him but the guy would not get the hint. I watched, out curiosity or boredom, but I was entertaining a conversation with my new cousin, who sat next to me, asked how I was, and I asked her about her recent trip to Colombia and whatnot. 

"Why the long face?" -I asked her. 

She confessed she wanted to cry. I told her, if there were no people seeing, I'd probably join her. She asked about my Russian friend and I told her I hadn't talked to or seen her in almost two weeks. Then it dawned on me: the girl whom I knew I had seen some other night there was the first Russian, two weeks ago. Two Russian girls who I had met on two different nights were now there, on a dead-beat Saturday night with no DJ, scarce attendance, very little to offer place, closing hour, how did I not notice her before, how was it that I missed a cataclysm of that magnitude? Was the Kristina Russian girl friends with her? Is it possible that I can still work up the courage to find out if my suspicions of espionage had any veracity? What are the odds, I said before, that I meet two Russian girls, two different nights, and while that was odd an occurrence, odder it seemed still that now both of them coincided there in the same place. No, they were not friends, they weren't even sitting close, Kristina had her friend from last time around and the other had her friend from that other crazy night, the last Saturday I saw a DJ there. No more Saturday DJ, we were at the mercy of the girls playing the jukebox, so the place was reminiscent of the times before it was acquired by the Tu Casa owner: vastly desolated, with just a few notable faces. There was nothing there, awaiting me then the street leading home, the weather growing colder, the empty apartment. By now, my mother should've been living here, but I still am by myself. That's a good thing, really... you cannot be a source of joy for anyone if you can't stand being by yourself. I stand alone, even when I'm surrounded by others, I said before. 

Paranoid as to what was unfolding, I wanted to secure a witness. I turned to cousin Al and asked if he remembered me talking to a tall Russian girl two weeks ago, and I had to remind him because he had forgotten it all. 

"Russian chick, her friend left her alone, we were smoking cigarettes, you were here, I was there" I told Al. 

Out of perhaps politeness, he said he did remember, of course.

"Hey, man, you know how guarded girls are at local bar? You have got to keep track because I don't want to be told later that I have been hallucinating these things" I said, laughing.
Ah, what great fun it is to be among familiar faces, where I stayed. Even when, judging by her moves, Kristina signaled that she was alone, passing me by, staying away from her stalker, I stayed with my people. The other Russian girl came to us, talked to my new cousin, and I didn't even register. I was not in my element, maybe I was just taking a night off. We all have nights like the rest of the world, in which we only get happily drunk... God forbid I go a weekend without kissing a stranger! 
Then I saw my glass, empty, looked up and there was the new bartender. 

"I think she's Russian" Al teased.

I had had enough. I picked up the bill, and soon thereafter left. 

As soon as I hit the bed, I fell into deep sleep. 

From The Greatest City in The World

There are well over three quarters of a million single women living in New York. Not to mention those who are already in a relationship or soon to be out of one, that are game; if they don't say, I don't ask. If you get creative, you can multiply that by considering online dating. You can feel adventurous suddenly and book a trip to your native land, where women are just eager to meet foreigners coming to this ravished nation –from anywhere they may stem, let alone those who come from the most advanced civilization, certainly the most prosperous and economically viable nation on earth… the cream of the crop, the good old United States of America.

Take into consideration that I stand six feet one inch tall, am semi-built, easy on the eye, with a sex appeal that’d make me like a mundane version of… oh, I don’t know who, but did I mention I am fashionable and just as equally important smart and yet not nearly as egotistical as I sound? But you probably already knew that since I am so well-versed. Perhaps more importantly, I am in the prime of my life –neither too young or too old, ripe for the competition, even have some money saved, steady work and whenever I walk into a bar, I know how the hottest chicks feel like: all eyes in the room directed in their direction, libidos aroused, whisperings running rampant around, heads slightly tilted and turning everywhere.

Early on in our formation we find that, yes, we are part of that select breed of the human spectrum considered beautiful. It happened to me when I was young, always heard my mother say I was quite handsome, but even Millhouse’s (from the Simpsons, particularly the part where Millhouse wants to impress Lisa) mother says that a lot. How did I actually start to believe my own hype? I really never did, in fact I feel, like most beautiful people, that I am not all that much, that I am just slightly above average. But one day, when I was twelve years old, I walked into a junior high school in a childhood neighborhood, and the man greeted me and asked if I was such and such person. I was astounded, did not know the man, and he said he was a friend of my mom’s and that she had said that he’d recognize me when he saw me.  Accordingly, my mother had told him that when he saw the best looking guy there, that’d be me. It took me years to assimilate the idea that I am, after all, a good looking guy. Nowadays, there’s hardly any doubt of it in my mind. Sure, like all lookers, I am well aware of my own aesthetic limitations, but that’s another story altogether.

And so, why is it that an appealing male in the prime of his life, living in the most productive land on earth, solvent and disease-free, has any emotional dilemma tonight? Why is it that we get fixated on a singular mating target, when there are hundreds, if not theoretically thousands, of fresh meat out there? When does having a whole lot of something suddenly mean nothing when you yourself have mental scarcity? It may well be that I am either not nearly as good looking as I set myself out to be or I’m just being downright cynical about it. Sure, you may have what it takes, but that’s hardly all that’s needed. Because just as you’re sure of yourself, so is the other hundred guys who read your manuscript and have adopted your donned-one ways. And so, I decided to be more than just another pretty face, and I was successful at it: I started exercising more than ten years ago; I am in respectable shape, added loyalty and sarcasm to the overall mix. I don't do what people tell me to do, I don't think twice before putting someone, especially a woman, in their place, if they step out of line. That adds, more than looks, character to your personal aura. You have a way with girls for quite sometime now, ever since you, out of boredom, decided to google the simple yet illuminating question: "What do women want?" 

It turned out that, no one knows, and it turns out that, it doesn't really matter. What matters most is your mission in life, said some David Daida -or was it De Angelo? Anyhow, I took a quantum leap in personal desirability: out of curiosity, I learned and practiced, over and again, those traits that women find more appealing in a man: confidence, discretion, loyalty, patience, body language, rapport, among others. I found that if I gave too much attention, I got none, and mind-boggling as it was, it turned out to be that as I became more and more immersed in my own experience, my own goals and ambitions, my life... that I automatically became more and more attractive to women. It always surprised me how us men obsessed over them yet rarely, if ever, took the time to find out anything more about our sexual counterpart, the female gender, other than her anatomy. I found that I was being girly in my projection, and that having been raised by a lonely, desperate woman had made me so. Then I stumbled upon the principle of taking charge and being accountable, therefore I could no longer blame mom for my shortcomings. At every turn, I faced a straight like an arrow shot at greatness and I always found some clandestine alley where I'd wander off in yet another existential turnaround. What I wanted mostly was, to know what older men knew before I got to be, well, old! And I guess I succeeded at seeing that it didn't really matter what made me more, because it stemmed from insecurity, therefore the very question of self-worth is in and of itself a crystal-clear predicament that our envisioned path has been rerouted, or that we went for a walk and found ourselves at a crossroads or, worse yet, at a dead-end. 

Why am I here, debating whether I should go looking for her -or not. I should either look for her or abandon the very thought of it for something far more precious and cool: a night outing in the most amazing city the world has ever seen. That is New York, not Los Angeles. And so when, out of the purple moon, Connie called to ask if I wanted to go to L.A. and I jumped at the very suggestion, I guess what I wanted more than anything in this world was the opportunity to see my youngest son again, never mind L.A. is more than five hours away and I hate flying, I have flown more this year when I have been estranged from my son than in any other of my life so far. No, the girl I should be looking for does not have a child of mine and I thought it was more than coincidental of Connie to mention that she'd want to go to L.A., when just recently my dearly beloved absent girl friend of mine, the one that I should be looking for, mentioned something about missing L.A. I took it as her saying that New York hadn't been all that great ever since I left the picture. So, I left it at that and gave her a Like on her status. But phoning, or texting her, on a Saturday, no, no, no... that's a no-no in my book. 

I ought  to throw the book like I have done with her. I ought to go with the opposite of what I know-it-would-work and start practicing the less than appealing, more humane neediness that permeates from within, and just get it all over. Nothing would make a girl run faster than finding out that, on a night such as this, it is her who is in your mind and that you'd rather watch mindless movies and listen to music you'd never get to hear with her for now, because it reminds you of her. That the city, the greatest that ever lived, New York, the one I fell for even before the plane that brought me landed, isn't nearly as attractive and wholesome as it used to, and that a local bar infested with regulars and very few thrills makes me more at ease and together than anything just because it's only a few blocks away from where she'd be sleeping tonight. It just boggles me that there is some unknown technique that would land me her, just not in shape, body or form, and definitely not tonight. 

Poker Face

Last night I met Kristina, a Russian girl who was just as tall as me and had been in the States for only four months. She apologized for the poor language skills and I actually noted to her that for only being here a few months, it was not that horrible. My teasing her did not register on her.
It was unreal. The second week in a row I meet a Russian girl and paranoid as I am, what I thought was, maybe I'm sending off some Russian vibe into the universe. Last week Russian girl was petite, had a model type of body, and just as many beautiful women was unbearable. She asked me if someone was sitting on any of the two seats next to me, and I said: "Yeah, this seat is taken" and I pointed out to the seat right next to me. Then the casual friend who was sitting next to me rushed over and offered her and her friend his seat. I shook my head mentally, and decided to abandon him to his delusion of thinking that just because he had a nice gesture, he'd get anywhere with them.
The difference between the two Russian girls, the one last week and the one last night, was that last week there were more people there and I had more than that one interaction. In fact, the guy who was sitting next to me was a friend of a girl I know, nothing much really but I enjoy teasing her and initially hadn't done so because I thought there might be a possibility she was with that jerk friend of hers. Of course, the guy was not a jerk, but here he was, tall enough, built like only a mixed martial artist can be. And yet, he lacked the refinement of character and disposition required to attract a girl. I took pity on him initially, until he embarrassed me by telling the girl I considered to be the most beautiful at the bar that I had deemed her so. Since that moment on, I disowned him, and moved abruptly to undo the damage done by simply ignoring the girl in question. It worked, the girl did not know if she could verify what the guy had said and I continued to play aloof.
It was good sitting quietly there, sipping my drink and thinking of the next time I'd see my dear Russian friend Anastasia. I'd see her again on Tuesday, not Monday as we had convened, briefly at noon to give a bouquet of flowers I got her honoring her 22nd birthday. And then I saw her the next day, in the afternoon again, and we took a stroll down my aunt's house. My aunt wasn't home and Jorge opened the door after we had sat in the bench outside for a while. I teased her that not kissing was no reason to have chapped lips. We went inside my aunt's house, invited by Jorge, and played with the dog Sonny for a while, before she had the idea of going back to my place to watch a movie. On Amazon, I ordered "The Number 23" and streamed it to my 51 inch Samsung TV. We were getting cozy when my mother made an abrupt entrance, and a while later, as soon as the movie was finished, I walked her home and she went about her aerobic zumba dance somewhere in the city and I went about seeing my son Esteban. I proposed we meet later that night for more movie watching, but then she didn't say anything and when I sent her a text I did not get a reply for an hour, so I gave up. I haven't called her or text her since then, more than four days ago. What seems odd is the fact that I have briefly met two Russian girls, whom I flat-out denounced as "spy" friends respectively, but the likelihood of that being the case, that is, those Russian girls being friends whom she sent there to spy, is remote and quite foolish. Nonetheless, I was suspicious as to why, since I have been on this earth, not that I remember all that has happened, but I can say quite confidently that I have never met two Russian girls in two consecutive weeks at the same local bar while being sort of involved with a sweet Russian girl myself. The one last week, I discarded, because when I asked for her name, she replied: "No name." So I kept calling her that and we were having sporadic moments until we coincided outside for a cigarette and I left without saying anything. We had had a conversation when I pointed out that I thought she was a spy. A Russian spy, a friend of my Russian fling. She asked why did I bother talking to her if I was so worried about the possibility of her knowing my girlfriend. "She's not my girlfriend, she's my girl friend" I said. "You shouldn't talk to other girls when you feel so strongly about her." Then I said: "What the fuck are you talking about? That's preposterous!" But she kind of made sense, girls are very intuitive and she must have sensed that I was more worried than my normal self was letting out to be. I walked home and left her with half her cigarette, and still thinking of the moment when I next see my Russian friend Anastasia and demand to know if she had sent some spies there that or any other night. We have had a great friendship and I have had relationships of this kind: non-defined, easy-going, no goal in mind. It is good to have such relationships, especially with women who are used to guys throwing themselves at their feet or saying that they want more. We always want more, so I think there's something noble to be able to restrain your instincts and care and tend to someone not based on a romantic agenda. We have had something, we do have something, but the fact that it is something unconventional and unique, something that has all the ingredients of a great love affair, makes it the more alluring, enigmatic, precious and tantalizing thing, not just some. More than something, we have been intimate, made love and fucked, but mostly cuddled and not kiss (as it is her wish to go to the altar without having kissed me, this is driving me insane) and I have kissed her forcibly a few times. She still comes around, she knows she's safe around me, and whatever is happening inside that cutie blond head of hers isn't really my concern. I remember that the bartender Erin and I had a similar affair, we were friends who looked like lovers, we too slept in the same bed, cuddled, even made out but then we found ourselves with respective lovers and we drifted apart. I remember a feeling I don't want to have again over that ordeal and it is that if the girl is not going to be mine, I may not waste her and my time anymore than it is necessary. So, no, I want this and then again I don't want it, so I put time in between. Maybe it's a matter of a few days, a few weeks, but I will definitely push the envelope. Oh, yeah, we talked about getting married, I said it was because of blond ambition. And it's not like I sit idly home and wait for a phone call that won't come, my phone never rings and I'm not a phone person. I had Beth come over and spent some quality time with my son. I went out on Saturday. I made some new friends. I worked out. I smoked and drank, but never too much. I had a nice conversation with my cousin Gio. But I missed my cousin Alan and I miss my Russian girl friend Ana, and I may seem like I'm being too proud or too stoic about it but the fact is, I am not. I just like to do without, and I know I am alone and I know that it takes time for someone to love us. But if our effort isn't validated, sometimes you gotta go all in or just put down your cards. I am not one apt candidate for a poker face stance. We want to feel wanted, to hold our girl's hand, to take her out on a weekend, take her to the movies... and not be instead this safe alternative guy who likes day walks and movies in the apartment.

So the fact that last night I found another Russian girl when there were fewer than five girls left, and the fact that it had happened for a second week in a row, I took notice. There's no such a thing as coincidence, but things of this nature happen to me on a regular basis. And so last night I had a different strategy: I actually wanted to feel what it was like to hold and be held, to kiss kissable lips, to feel wanted for a change right before that tall Russian girl walked out of the bar. We kissed twice, once briefly, I sort of pushed myself into it. She had said if it was destiny, we would meet again; I knew I wouldn't see her again under those terms, so I unleashed all of my stamina and rapport unto her. She responded shyly, but the second time around it was her who initiated it. We kissed briefly, open lips this second time around, wet and deep, half-closed eyes. We were envied for a little while, and we had done this when there was no other girls left at the bar, just drunk people. I had gotten there late, as I was just home. Saturday nights are such a hype and I retired them long ago. Saturdays are too much work, the best people I've met, I met them on broad day light, not at night, and I met them on every other day of the week. Saturdays are for lunatics and youngsters who want to believe that life is short, that is about hitting on as many girls as possible and binge drinking and whatnot. I am not being a prune, but I have already lived that. Now I just sit back and relax and have an out of control moment very rarely.
I may give this girl a call and see what's she's up to, but not tonight.

Quicksand

Cheating makes it sound so dirty. It's good to be loyal just not for everyone. It makes sense that the less people you have to entertain the more you can focus on your own visions, it reaffirms your own beliefs that you're not just in for the thrill. It's not chasing the thrill, enjoying your vices but in moderation. You can manage the rush of going out, instead work out and meditate, for me, it works more often. Of course, loyal is at the top of the hierarchy in qualities we find desirable in a person. Therefore, like a good body in a good mind, it requires effort and a maturity. I can only get to slow down because I have already sped up, running around, chasing your tail like a dog you'll find that usually the tail follows you when you decide to march forth. Even when surrounded by crowds, I stand alone. I was born and I will die alone. I will celebrate alone, and when that person is fun enough, everyone will want a piece of it. It's not easy being loyal, but only in the formal stages of a relationship that has matured into such. Kids nowadays have it right in wanting often, wanted their way, keeping their choices open and only date those like-minded. If we want exclusive, we come from plenty and know that one choice may just be the ticket out of this mating madness. Someone you can laugh and argue, tease and caress, someone you can hold one minute and then the next you may never see again. That's how it feels, somehow your brain is wired to blow out of proportion potential scenarios, if seen through the lens of fear and despair. How to counter such a lethal blow? How do we move from the role we play and the untamed lion that roars within? It comes to no surprise that, unlike what women think, men actually can suppress most of their primal instincts. We're visual and have hawkish eyes, we may sit by the bar minding our own but other lioness might be watching and subtly made herself visible, depending on how aggressive she is, but I hold my own. I think logically of the situation, the energy it demands to walk up there and chat someone up out of nowhere, do so while not appearing too intrusive. And how could you not be, if anything, the good thing she's craving. You were just there minding your business, and on and off subtle manifestations of interest abound. We need to stay true to ourselves and loyal. 

Now, I said "loyal", not "faithful". Some of us make their own rules, others follow the norm. Whatever the case may be, you actually are happier when you don't find yourself fragmented, having your energy directed in more than a few worthy challenges. The same holds true for relationships in that they are stronger when founded upon trust and transparency. Same things you look for in a car or a place to call your own, same principles apply when choosing the person we want to be seen with. But it shouldn't be the sole goal in your path. Your aims should be higher, we spend less time attracting a mate and more in building a web of connections, keep the world at bay and say, "Yeah, I'm sort of seeing this and that person." Your goal shouldn't be in landing the girl; that comes only after saving yourself. Be the person you'd be irremediably attracted to. Be spontaneous, courageous, adventurous, or the very own thing that you want to see in others. I have the attitude of someone who wants to be left mostly by himself but never alone. If there are people there, they will always be made aware of my presence. I'm not easy to miss; I'm considerably tall, handsome and fit, and I know how to handle the tension. So I very much would prefer to stay home or go out in the city, maybe take a trip to see Julian. And to think that very thought neutralizes most impulses (smoke, drink, sort of talk to a girl), but those primal needs will not be silenced, so I throw scrubs to the insatiable monster lurking inside, a few drinks, cigarettes, nights-out and a girl I sort of see. I am keeping my appetite at bay, because you have to be able to do without some things and best to be left alone than with the stingy indignation of not being able to say "No" and end something that will otherwise be your doom. Eventually, of course, but meanwhile we just have our cake and not eat it. Someone may say, "Isn't it all or nothing?" It's not what we want, but what we do with what we get. That makes all the difference. We don't want too much of a good thing but sometimes we might just indulge. Except for: when does a good thing become too much? It sounds like an oxymoron. 

These are distractions, not our aim in life. If sex or friendship happens, we should see beyond just the attraction and more the person, don't be that creepy guy trying to hit on every passing girl, making noises, graphic gestures, etc. Sure, they move us but I'm not gonna be running like a chicken without a head. I try to find happiness in my daily choices, I am patient in the relationships I forge, the plans, goals, ambitions in life derive from waiting things out, finding out one another, not if a person fits as a lover and then shut the world outside. We need more friends than lovers, and sex and love are always accidental. The emphasis should be on the qualities an individual possesses as opposed to the ones we look in them. We should be able to choose what we feel good about, and it may work from time to time to misbehave, but do so only once in a while. I read and write more than I drink and smoke, and yet I am seen as a party animal. I go out for a couple of hours twice a week, stay local most of the time, if not close to work, around my way. I save valuable energy this way, unfortunately I'm not easily amused. I enjoy the music, the roaring lights, the dance of life, drinks, happy people, and I can't help but to immerse, slowly sinking, as if it were a quicksand. I keep control most of the time, but sometimes I just step outside of my head and see the passage of time in every passing moment. You can only live in the moment. I stay inside often, even in those rare moments when I ago out. 

Of course, I portray another image. The fact is, more often than not, I do go out, but I don't stay out long enough, and have a few drink. I do so on weekends, Fridays and Saturdays, and I enjoy the long wait before I head out around midnight. I spend more time home, reading, writing, listening to music, drinking, smoking. Life is good in its small pleasures, and we shouldn't have to go in the dessert chasing too many mirages. Sure, be stupid and love, but I warn you, it's not something you know for sure. You first learn to love yourself before you go looking for validation, or some silly romantic agenda. Of course, you do give of yourself, shower others with invitations (specially family) and once a week see the person you're seeing for the sheer sake of seeing them. It's not hard to be yourself. It is much more harder to pretend.

Sleep like a Baby

The other night I had an amazing time with a friend of mine whom I've only met once before seven years ago. We had a few drinks in the city, laughed and talked more than the convened drink we had in mind, and then I invited her over to Queens. She followed me and we ended up in a local bar around my place. Then she had to leave but I took her out to dance and we somehow made out. We went back home and had a made-out session, listened to music, watched a spiritual movie and made out some more. Then she took a cab back home. 

Today, I worked the afternoon shift starting at 4 p.m. and ending at midnight. Then I was asked if I wanted to work today, in a few hours, starting at 7 a.m. Mind you, I work tomorrow my regular shift, so I'd be pulling a double on less than four hour sleep. No big deal, like Connie commented on my post, nothing I haven't done before. Then I had the nice idea of just passing by the bar, out of curiosity, like I do every night without going in. Outside, one of Connie's ex's, was chatting with two girls outside the place. And I overheard him say, "This guy", referring to me, of course. I turned around, looked back at him and then headed home. I took a shower, and unlike what I had thought, put a shirt on and walked back to the back. I walked in and saw him with four more guy friends or so, I saw no reaction from him as I passed them by and stood by the bar on a neutral corner without provoking any further commotion. I didn't drink anything, as someone who was just there to check out the scene; then I went around the place, my masculine self was restored, and then headed home. The places I still have to find myself in, the dangers I run, all in the name of Connie. But she wasn't to blame, last time I made the mistake of calling her and telling her to please tell her friend that I am not interested in a showdown fistfight, but I was in a different state of mind back then and I'm sure all I succeeded in doing was for her to get back to talk to him over the phone on the subject. The guy, like many other people, know only about me what Connie (or many others) have told him, and judging for his reactions these can't possibly be good things. I handled things differently, by not verbally responding to Connie's comment, just a discreet Like on her comment and no midnight call or email alerting her of the situation. She was of no help then, so I learned my lesson. I had no reason going back there, but we men sometimes operate with scarce logic all in the name of pride and honor. That is how I motherfucking roll nowadays. 

If it wasn't for higher levels of testosterone, due to workout sessions that have reduced fat deposits and defined my muscular composition, I would've never done that. Regardless of my new physique, that guy is twice as big, and far more aggressive and knuckle-head than I'd ever be. The type Connie likes. The thing is, I wasn't looking for a fight but for an explanation as to why the guy gets so worked-up around me. This is the guy that had an altercation with my cousin and I am not one to start fights, especially a fight I will not win. But still, I felt powerful enough and cocky enough to walk into the wild side, because otherwise I knew I'd never be able to go to bed just like that. 

I'm gonna sleep like a baby. 

Loveless Nest

She is out with her friend, like she did on Friday; except Friday she was with them here when I came back from work, and then she headed out and I stayed with my baby boy until the next morning when she showed up. Now she went out on her own, to meet a girlfriend of hers. Since she's been here, she has been with her friends and this has allowed me more time with my boy.
My night off was Saturday, when she slept it off and stayed with the baby as I went about having my fun. Doing the things I love, music, a few drinks, a little smoke, all home. Oh, yeah, I briefly picked up the habit but now I am smoke free again. Hadn't had a cigarette in more than four years. But for some reason, reading the email correspondence she exchanged with a married man, convening to meet in his hotel for a drink. Of course, she denied it and of course, I didn't care more than the initial shock. Sort of like when you are startle by a sound, surprised by a sudden slap to the face. It hit because I saw what I had forgotten: the real reason she left was because she needed space to do the same thing she was doing before I came along, and it can't be easy with a child to raise. In her family's house, she has space, time to raise a child, attend online college, and go out from time to time. Who is to deny her that? I was never the domineering type she set me out to be; like any guy, I'd protect mine, not just let it all slide, and yeah, there episodes of jealousy on both sides, but I never said she was trying to control me, rarely got into her phone or email, even though I had complete access to it. And the few instances I did, I had unpleasant surprises. She found an email I had saved from years ago, not the first or the last of its kind, when at work a guy decided to use photos I've posted on MySpace and sent other people messages on Craigslist. She panicked. I've never been immune to gay pranks, targeted for no other reason than the fact that I am a tall, good-looking guy and, like many men, this causes jealousy among guys. Especially, since I get the girl, the only one thing they can attack me with is with false allegations to my sexuality, I explained to her. What sparked her suspicions was a post on Facebook by a co-worker who said, "I like big juicy fat cocks" on my wall. Bear in mind, I was with her at the time that happened, because I cannot imagine what would she have conceived of in the event I wasn't. Luckily, I was able to cool down but I didn't feel like going on a date. I thought nothing of it later; I did find who it was who posted. And I didn't take any vandetta against the guy, we work together and work is sacred.  Days later she went through my emails, and found the one I had saved since the MySpace days, not knowing who had done that, I had kept it as evidence. Back then, I suspected another guy at work whom I had a physical altercation with for no reason other than he swinging at me first. I knocked the guy out. It was right outside my place of work, and I was lucky that I wasn't fired. The video was reviewed and it was my superior's decision that I had not been the aggressor. I cannot say for sure that guy was the one did it, but I am sure one of his friends, whom I shared computers with at work, probably had taken advantage of the fact that I always forget to log out and seeing the messages back and forth, I assumed once they found nothing of interest, they may have decided to play a stupid prank. It is what stupid people does. And so, when she found out that email, she panicked and I told her the truth. She insisted that was not the case, even though there was no evidence to the contrary. It's not like she walked in on me banging the shit out of another dude or anything, and in the countless emails I had amassed throughout the years, I had even forgotten that one. Of course, when things got really bad between us, and nothing that merited her packing and leaving with my son for good without saying a word, I had given her reason to go beyond reasonable doubt. According to her, she had decided to give me another chance but when if I had known she would've reacted the way she did, I would've done away with her. The lack of sex, the silly bickering and stress we were going through, I wanted to do away with all of it. I wanted her to go away. I started sleeping in the living room. I was sick of her being so concerned with my sexuality when she had stopped having sex with me since that incident. I couldn't possibly have sex with another girl being with her, even though I did go on a date with a girl who was crazy about having an affair with me. A girl I was dating right before I started dating her, a girl who had said on a Facebook message that she "needed to find another bossy Latin man because I was already taken." Women cannot be more direct than that. And that message she missed, or chose to. She read correspondence between me and another ex girl of mine, Gina. The girl is married and it was an innocent conversation that did not even qualify for a jealous episode, but that she did in her own private way. The conversation had been about psychotherapy, a field Gina had majored in college and Connie had suggested I needed a shrink, so it was a mixture of psychological tips, bitter loneliness and nothing more. It doesn't take much to spike a woman's jealousy, the mere fact that you're talking to another woman is enough. So revealing was the weekend she spent her with her friends, I wanted to hand her a taste of her own medicine, because for months she had sort of blackmailed me with the fact that she had forwarded the email in question. Initially, I thought nothing of it but then, out of desperation one night, right in front of a cousin of mine, I decided to give her ample reason to leave. I wrote not one but several more of those, and if I would've known it'd meant not being with my son, I would've probably not have done it. By then, I had secured my account but left it open long enough for her to find the treasure. She took the bait, and I am now glad, in a way, she did. If all it takes to get rid of someone who since day one has been planning on deserting you, I shouldn't have delayed or pause my life in doing so. If she wants to tell everyone about them, go ahead. The fact is, even if I were gay, or bisexual or pansexual, it is not reason enough to take my son away. What she did, she did because she knew well how much it'd hurt me. She did it out of desperation, I know, because I had been desperate, too. And I know, though it hurts, it was probably for the best. Because up until very recently, I was naively thinking, well it's just a phase, she'd come out of it, we'll work things out. Then I saw: she had started dating as soon as April, she had said repeatedly to her friend (but not to me, she hasn't led me on, she has not said anything to the contrary, she's been rather neutral for appearances) that she was no longer in love with me and that I was trying still to get back together. Of course, you're the bad guy for trying, and she feels somehow on a pedestal because of being able to crush someone's attempts at happiness with you. The fact is, she never had a relationship like the one we had, she was probably sick of it, we got pregnant too early in the relationship, and I cannot blame her for it.
I wasn't straight with her. I lied about having had a vasectomy, and with lies of this nature it takes two to tango. She even resented the fact that we may not have kids in the end. Even though I always wanted to have another child, never did I conceive that it'd happen with her. Most of the time, I'd ejaculate out, we went through boxes of condoms, and if it wasn't for a mini vacation on South Beach, we would've probably never made this beautiful baby of ours. We were so in love, and I do not regret having had a baby with, but she did initially thought about not having it, we were very close to not having it. I pushed it because maybe yeah I wanted to be a father but I never took into consideration that, here too, it takes two to tango. I was selfish and I was irresponsible, and I am willing to admit that much; but I won't ever regret having lied about it because it gave me something far more beautiful than I had anticipated. Sex may not have been an important part thereafter, so I never for a second thought that she had stopped having sex with me because she was pregnant or because she thought I wasn't straight, but because she always resented me lying to her about my fertility. Initially, I thought, like she told me, that her sex drive had diminished, and I waited for seven weeks after her delivery, as recommended by the doctor, but nothing. And it wasn't like I was trying, I wasn't as concerned with getting laid, I was more in the clouds with my newborn. Sex took the passenger's seat, if not the back seat.
I had said, sex is healthy and so long as you protect yourself, I don't really see the need for it to be seen as something other than what it is: a way to release stress, bond and feel good about yourself. Of course, she said I was "disgusting", and yet all along she was already dating and trying to hook up, and doing all the "disgusting" things she nagged about. All of the shady characters she's surrounded herself with, from friends (one is a professional pornstar and intimate escort) to lovers (among which was a cousin of mine, a guy who cheated on her with her best friend and only wanted to get a visa from her and whom trashed her place when she decided to break up with him, and a semi-serious relationship with an insignificantly-looking bisexual flight attendant who wanted to have an "open" relationship with her). She has shown more respect for that cousin of mine, whom she says she had to pay for in occasions while on dates with him, whom she helped with his resume, whom she ran to pick up the phone and call to explain why she had spent the night talking to an ex of hers while throwing our baby in my arms in order to do so. That's how shit started, with my cousin, a guy who has never come to visit me, or bought me a drink in his life (I have been good to him, no one who comes across the likes of me goes out of my life without feeling the extent of my generosity), a guy who came to different birthday parties and even my baby's baby shower without a gift, drank the Modelo beers I had saved for myself, that's the type of guy she shows respect for. I love my cousin, and I love her, but these are shady characters. So is her obscenely overweight gay boyfriend. Or her best friend who is "happily" married and from time to time comes to New York with the excuse to visit her in order to follow her real agenda of having an extra marital affair with a guy who half of the time doesn't even answer her calls, her excuse being her husband doesn't love her.

In principle, I understood but then again, being faced by the gruesome reality of her multiple affairs (she had accepted a married man's invitation to his hotel room, was dating someone at the time, and had said to a few friends that I was trying to solve things with her but that she just wasn't in love with me anymore. A few hours later, she'd ask who was the girl at the Ale house I was seeing, if I had really slept with seven girls in her absence (I knew she hadn't been an angel, and I am no saint, so why go there?) and I'd pretend to know nothing of it. They'd probably tell her stories, and she'd tell her side of the story as well, like I'm doing here.
Of course, to me it's fun when she has an episode of jealousy, and yeah mine have been significantly more pronounced and only because I rarely gave her a chance to feel jealous. I wanted her to feel secure, confident in that I would never cheat on her. I opened my bank and email accounts, and in both instances I was violated. That all may be in the past now, but the important thing is that we are civil. It takes time to build something, and the excuses she found to leave and the slandering and bickering, it took a toll on her more than me. I've never felt better, I'm even in touch with my feelings and shown it in these writings. Here I come to make sense of my world and yet even that she tried to censor. For a moment there, I almost obliged.

For one day, we talked about the things we faced ahead, she stood her ground and said she'd not come back to New York. I may have allowed myself to dream of the possibility of a life in her hometown. The problem is, the economy and my son Esteban; besides, I'd be sacrificing myself in a loveless nest. I rather take my chances, but I'll continue to shower her with attention and be open to the way she feels and not impose myself. I'm looking at it from a different perspective because the dynamic has shifted. Then I think of Esteban, and I think of how much that would shatter his mom's fragile spirit, and I may come to Buddhism's middle path: suggest she could come once in a while to come visit, and I'd go there once every a month. I need this more than she does. It has taken a toll on me not being with my baby boy, but I learnt to manage. It's not like I've been miserable, but not a day goes by that I don't think how much I'm missing. So, I go about overcompensating, taking tons of pics and video clips, posting just a few dozen of them and keep many more for me; I spend time holding him and playing with him.

Now Connie has left to see a friend of hers. It was a prior engagement she had, and I love just the thought of staying home alone with my kids. Friday night she came at the crack of dawn and the first rays of sun were lighting like sleepy hands the dark neutral corner of the room. I was holding my son, her firstborn, and I stared at this beautiful girl who had given me so much. I felt in debt. So, yeah, go and take all of the time you want, see the world and meet other men, I understand in time romance fades and only hard work is left of what was once all fun and games. We can't expect to love with the same tenacity we did in the initial stages of the relationship. 

Just now, as I end this sentence, Connie shows up. She surprises me because I thought she'd spend more time. Like I did on my night off is what I was gonna say before she walked in. What I did was, go buy her buffalo wings, and I find a cousin and his best friend. Then another cousin comes in. We drink as I wait for the food, then another drink and then the food is ready and rushed home. Then I stayed there, listening to music and drinking, like I do myself. I was just so happy to have them back if only for a fraction in time.
I am still dreaming of it. I enjoy their company, and her madness, and my baby's personality. He's so vivid and fresh, untamed and engaging. He's loved, and we should all love each other or -at the very least -try to get along better with each other because we're in it for the long run. No, I do not want to change the way things are. I may want to still make further improvements.