I live in a condo. And I rent. There are four attached units, horizontally laid out with no upstairs, and all the tenants lease from the owner. We have our own driveways, front lawns, backyards, etc. There’s a six-acre field behind the property that random homeless folks like to inhabit, use as a toilet, smoke … Continue reading Review—To the Sh*tbag, No-Name Roofing Company on My Roof: You Guys Suck
But after I got inside and put my stuff down, it finally struck me—like a coked-out getaway driver into a crosswalk full of guys dressed like Santa Claus—why Rory had so many girls still “riding his jock,” to quote a phrase he loved to use...
Any relationship is an investment. You put in energy, time, emotion, stress, effort and finances, you may give up parts of your dreams and life plans for it, but, in return, it can come to satisfy you in ways you have pre-determined you want to be satisfied, and also in ways you couldn’t have imagined. … Continue reading The New Age Paradox, Part 4: The Relationship Stock Market, and Further Reflections on My Time with a New Age Girl
In case you didn’t catch part 1 of the New Age Paradox, here’s a recap: The New Age Girl, this is what she would say: “I need you to talk about what you’re feeling. But I don’t want the whole story, about what you’re feeling. Don’t talk too much. It’s overwhelming..."
New Age Life Lesson # Whatever: Give the New Age Person everything they need, expect nothing in return, and they will love you unconditionally and your relationship will blossom. While they continue to love everyone else they feel like, too. And give far, far less than what they demand. Well, who the fuck is dumb enough to do that, you may ask? Bottom-feeders. A whole school of them. Which, speaking of, brings me to my men’s group...
My Uncle Saulie is like 47. Recently divorced. One day he decides to (because a bunch of his female co-workers told him he had to) put up a dating profile on dateherding.com. I remember sitting with him the day he first went online to check it out. He was beside himself, to say the least.
And after five minutes of trying to flesh the whole thing out, to demonstrate clearly that I was capable of talking about how I felt—to many, many more of her glazed-eye blinkings—she would accuse me, in the end...of talking too much. And of still being angry. Which, of course, would start to make me angry.