The most heartless man to ever own a pulse…

Consider the weekend dust being bitten. And so, another one shows her lack of understanding. Another deems me the villain in my own story.

I had a good weekend and then the whole thing is destroyed when the girl gets all emotional. Bloody women. Oh well.

Seriously these pills, my god, these pills make everything ok. I can think about things, but it is like there is a filter that is removing the emotional significance of it all. Right now I should be deeply hurt that a woman I shared a lot of myself with determines to hurt me by calling me a ‘user’. I mean, that’s the catch-phrase of the moment. Ex-friends, Ex-lovers… ex-cetera… all of them calling me a ‘monster’. And what for, I hear you cry?

For telling the god-damned unabashed truth.

For saying, ‘you know what, this isn’t working.’ Or ‘I never loved you, so I’m going to start hitting the field.’ Or ‘I’m going to start drinking again, because you made me out of be an alcoholic when really I was just unhappy.’

All these wonderfully monstrous confessions. How I can say… ‘i enjoy sex.’ And that is read as, ‘i used you for sex.’

The thing I’m learning is that people feel too much, too little and too late in the reverse order. They don’t realize their own objectives. This latest one took a last ditch effort to change me into a man who could love her. FAIL. It’s temporarily beyond me.

The only thing that the text gave me… because I know you’ll read this… is a distinct dislike for you. You learnt me well enough to say something hurtful to me… you don’t care for me if you treat me like this, so I’m not going to waste my time on you. Goodbye. Great life.

Onwards and outwards. Another thing that the weekend has afforded me is a closure on my sexual-escapades… or for now, anyhow… I’m tired out at the thought of randomly shagging my way around Liverpool… so now my objective is to stick it out as single and just do some fun dating. No sex, just relax, take things slowly and stop saying no to feelings.

I think slowly is the key. If I keep things nice and arm’s length for the time being then it will at least stir me into the right type of thinking, without hurting anyone in the process.

Except god knows every woman I have ever been out with has always fallen for me inside a week and is confessing their love not long after. Its a symptom of being too irresistible. Don’t protest… I joke, I jest, I play the fool.

Today I started reading Miller again to perk up what little chauvinistic skill remained intact. I read about his life and the ‘rosy crucifixion’ portion of his existence – where he moved away from everything he knew to begin again. Much like myself. Actually there is quite a lot of parallels to see when it comes to his prose. Certainly his life speaks a direct epiphany.

Regardless this is just one more reason I should be grateful for being free. At least I haven’t gotten myself in too deep. Gotten used to loving anyone or anything like that. That would be tragic, the old Jensen might well have taken to some model he managed to discuss marxism with. Or taken the number from a girl only to call her the wrong name down the phone. Or similarly fallen into the trap of some honey with a mind of mush and a great body, one that he couldn’t help but wish to be with because of their ‘connection’ and then, not long later, finds she’s dating another guy too. Spreading the odds. As well as her legs.

I’ve done nothing I can really be upset about. Instead I’ve held it together pretty well and… if I don’t have any more undue surprises… I think I’ll be well on the way to a happy day with some beaming broad one day soon.

See, the more time that passes without me needing to apologize, the less I have to be sorry for.

No man in a sorry-state can be happy, nor can he attract someone to share an evening with… in any true format of proclivity.

Filed under: Drinking, Existence, Friends, Future, Girls, Happy, Home, Lonely, Love, Lucy, Melissa, Nikki, Sad, Sarah, Sex, Steve, Strangers, about me, accusation, hopes, lissa, much, solitary , heartless, jen jen, pulse, sorry

Spider

While exploring Bristol, Nikki and I stumbled on an indoor tropical jungle. We decided that it would be fun to go in and check it out, so in we went and I got some steps ahead of Nikki before I noticed that she had fallen back. I looked back and asked if she was ok and noticed she had a look of sheer dread on her face. I remembered instantly that she had said that she was arachnophobic and there were some tanks ahead of us with spiders in.
To me a spider is an example of Nature’s strange and fascinating variety of creatures. Nikki, a strange and fascinating creature in her own right, looked the weakest I had yet seen her. The whole time I wanted to just hold her and soothe her, but of course we are only friends. So I tried to calm her down and handled the situation with grace and tact.
It may have been strange to take comfort in her reaction to the spider, but then, she had caused dread in me plenty of times, so I thought, in the end, it was only fair for me to see her in such a state. More than anything it harboured the feeling of the an uneasy need to keep her safe, but then, maybe I just thought she was beautiful with her eyes slightly wider and her lips parted to breathe easier.

Filed under: Love, Nikki

Packed

I get a call from Jael, her voice is broken and I can tell she has been crying.
“I want you to come to Dublin with me, to live.”
“What?” I replied in disbelief.
“I love you and I am leaving Steve.”
It was an odd conversation, it lasted nearly an hour. Afterwards I felt drained. I said that I couldn’t do that to Steve, he was a friend. I told Jael that Nikki meant a great deal to me and that I wanted to see where it would go. I told Jael that I loved her, but not in that way. She sobbed the whole way, but didn’t plead for me. She understood.
The next day I went to Bristol to meet Steve for breakfast. We had coffee. He smoked his usual cigarette. She hadn’t told him. I was going to, but didn’t. He had his bag with him. He told me he had packed a few things that Jael had been upset to leave behind. He was all set to get on the plane at Bristol Airport. He told me to come and visit them soon. He made me promise. I hugged him, before he left, and cried a little when he was out of sight.

Filed under: Jael, Nikki, Steve

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Filed under: Dom, Nikki, Sarah, Sex

Pitcher

After being told that we were going to be ‘just friends’, I wasn’t in the best of moods. So I grabbed a bottle of white wine and went to the park to drink it. The wine, mixed with the misery at the loss of hope, was bitter. I thought about smashing the bottle and using the broken fragments to gouge chunks of flesh out of my arm, but thought that would be stupid after hurting my fist the night before.

I downed the bottle and went in search of a sweeter wine. I ended up in an over 21 bar and sat by myself for a further two glasses before I walked up to three girls. I bought them a pitcher of Sex On The Beach and then settled into a mindless chatter, while I proceeded to drink most of the pitcher.

I’ve no idea how I got home and cannot recall their names.

Filed under: Nikki

Velvet

When away from her I try not to think about her. I do this in an attempt not to be pained by her absence. I miss her eyes the most, then her lips, both join in the union of a smile that makes my heart stammer.
Being in love is similar to being depressed. It feels distinctly as though your heart is being squeezed. Then of course with depression it feels as though it is rotting. So that is the difference, because love is precise, it shoots through your heart in one stab. When trying not to think about Nikki I listen to music. I have started listening to ‘Velvet’ by a-Ha. It seems to sum up how I feel for her, which is bad because I get tricked into thinking about her and longing for her.

‘Her skin is like velvet
Her face cut from stone
Her eyes when she’s smiling
Will never reach home…

Her touch would be tender
Her lips would be warm
But when we’re together
I’m always alone’

I tell myself that I pressed the repeat button by accident.

Filed under: Nikki

Charity

I forget which charity she worked for, but I met Nikki because of it. She came in to explain a scheme whereby I would send money monthly to a child in a foreign country and then I talked to her and asked for her number. She is one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen and I’m surprised even now that I managed to get my words out. We met up a few days later and soon I was besotted. I kept looking at her and imagining all the places I wanted to kiss her and how good it would feel just to have her in my arms.

It came to me that I needed to say how I felt before she left for home on the train. We’d walked and talked our way around Bath all day, but even so it was difficult to declare my intentions. When I did, she said it was sweet. I think I knew at that moment that a relationship with her was improbable; I just didn’t enjoy the notion.

Filed under: Nikki

Soaked

At work I think about just being friends with Nikki. It is a strange notion when the feeling is so strong. I train myself to think of other things. I get a txt from her saying that she wants to be ‘just friends’. My mouth dried instantly. My stomach turned. Tears welled up and then disappeared again. I knew that I was to be friends with her anyway. There was no need to get upset. So I txt back that being friends is ‘FAB’. Only half-meant it. I warmed to the idea when I met her on Sunday and spent the day in the sunshine. My heart thawed to her for a second time and I knew it was possible.

We walked barefoot through the fountain’s pool and got attacked by an ill-mannered child. We each were soaked, but gave as good as we got. The day with her ended as the evening came and the sun dipped below the roofs. I walked barefoot to the train station, where I put on my shoes, after finding the platform I needed. I travelled home in the quite carriage, which was a mistake because it gave me time to think.

Filed under: Nikki

Orbs

I hold her gaze and can see that she is scrutinising my motions. Her eyes are two brown orbs, which seem to hold a mute sadness. I was too scared to tell her of my longing outside of a surgical description of its characteristics, so I’m not really that surprised that she doesn’t feel the same way. Dispassion breeds dispassion. I feared telling her, but felt I should be honest. I can understand my shortcomings when it comes to situations like this. By trying to avoid misunderstanding, I was causing it. By thinking, I was complicating.

We watched a film and then walked to the train station. My train had already left and I ignored the fact that she thought there was another. I couldn’t bare to say that she was wrong. I offered to get a taxi for her and she said it would demonstrate a ‘lack of sense’. I have a lot of sense, sense enough to want her to be safe and get home before 12pm myself. It was a stab through the heart. The next day she told me she didn’t want to go out with me.

Filed under: Nikki

Flying

Sitting outside a small café with a glass of coke, ice melting quickly in the summer heat, I look at Nikki sitting across from me. The feeling of love hasn’t gone, just changed slightly. Instead of passion I feel a milder caring. I’ve never really had a friend that I felt that for, and I like the feeling intensely. It made me think that maybe friendship is something that would perhaps be the better option in this situation.

Behind her feathered hair, that the sunlight caught and lightened the colour of, flying ants flew about haphazardly. Occasionally they would get caught in her hair and each time came the notion that perhaps I should not pick them out, for fear of it being too intimate an action. I’m not a very touchy-feely person, so it was awkward. I thought about a child’s foot and how tempting it is to stroke the soft sole of their feet between a finger and thumb. I told her about that and she responded that she always felt like ‘chewing on them’.

Filed under: Nikki