zenexistence

I love love.
Truly.
I'm not one of those people that is in love with the idea of love, though. I know individuals that mistake loving the concept of being in love with actually loving someone. Does that make sense? Does that make your head hurt just a little bit?
Mine too.
But it's still true.
And I'm not some whacko hippy that spouts love and adoration galore. I would be a liar, however, if I did not grudgingly admit that if I do care about you I'll deliver it upon you in many a way, be it guy or girl, animal or mineral, dog or cat, pea or carrot.

With that said, I want this:



I have only once in my life come across that heart-stopping, jaw-dropping, stomach-fluttering, "Holy-shit-thistles-I've just met this person and I need them in my life"-feeling.
And it's amazing.
I have loved others, rest goddamn assured, and some so intensely that I couldn't see straight, but never as much as that first love.
Experiencing this type of love taught me that I know what I need in my life when it comes to a significant other.
I no longer sacrifice self.
I no longer warm my bed just because I'm lonely.
I no longer carve conquest-notches in my metaphorical headboard.
I no longer offer forth ridiculous texts or hushed, frenzied phone calls that provided a vague undercurrent of sly conversational topics that barely hid the pathetic sexual want/need/greed.

As a result, I no longer wake up feeling like a doppleganger of my true self, a shade.
I no longer wake up with someone on my arm/in my bed/clogging my shower drain that I can barely dare to look at, never mind talk to
Was I this disciplined when I was younger?
Nope.
I was kinda typical.
But that changed when I finally realized the specific archetype or stereotype or genotype it is that completed me.
Is there only one such?
Absolutely not.
I'm sure there are many.
Are they rare?
Roger that.
As rare as you.
Or me.



I know people that take their love to creepy levels. That stalker bullshit. This has never made any sense to me.
Why would you want to pursue someone that obviously doesn't want you any longer?
Here's how it works for me:

Me: "Heya. What're you up to? You want to go fly cheeseburgers tonight? Kind of blustery out."
Her: "Oh. Um, well, I, um, kinda have this thing ..."
Me: "No kidding? I have this thing too. The doctor said it would go away after about a week. It probably will. So, are we flying cheeseburgers or not?"
Her: "Scotty, we need to talk."
Me: "Okay, what's up?"
Her: "Well, I kinda think I want to be friends ..."
Me: "Cool! More cheeseburgers for me!"
Her: "But ..."
Me: (queue that sound you always hear right after the Roadrunner hauls ass away from Wile E. Coyote)

Do you see my point here?
If they don't like you, fuck off. Leave. Carry on with your life. Leave them alone.
And be thankful for all the extra beef.




Don't be creepy. Don't leave fucked up messages.





Because as cute as you might think your little gestures are, trust me the rest of us think you're fucked up, demented and, truth be told, socially retarded.





Go home and write or make art or just punch yourself in the goiter; do whatever comes naturally.





Or go create band names.





This post might come off as bitter or warped but I'd like to think of it as a common sense approach to life's finer moments.





Off to court a beer and I shall woo her like no other. Verily.

-Scotty