Unspoken For.

I'm trying to figure out if I want a girlfriend or not. It may not sound like a difficult question but it is for me. I miss the intimacy, sure. I am quite lonely; that's a given. Nevertheless, am I ready for a full-blown, legitimate, honest to goodness, committed to one person relationship? I don't know. I'm feeling torn and very confused. (And for those of you reading this that are already calling me a dog, FUCK OFF! I'm being honest! Last I checked, women want that quality in a man.)

I always thought that I could be a bachelor for the rest of my life and just enjoy a woman's company when it suited me. However, I'm set in my ways. After awhile, I expect certain things out of a woman and the Good Lord knows no one woman is like another. Each one far too unique to be mistaken for another. That being said, what the fuck happened to blowjobs?! Seriously! Is there like a BJ boycott or something I'm not aware of? If there is, it sucks and, ironically, it's the only thing that does! (That pun was very much intended!) In a weird way, I'm kind of happy that women aren't throwing that out there all the time. That just helps me discern how deep I'm getting into the relationship. (If there is one forming, that is.) Basically, I take the blowjob as the high sign that the chick is digging me but I digress. I think I've stayed off topic long enough.

To girlfriend or not to girlfriend? That is the question and while I want to, I'm a bit apprehensive. The truth of the matter is, even though I've matured a lot since my last relationship, I know I have the potential to fuck a relationship up as if I had a PhD in fucking up relationships. I start off strong and then I somehow manage to screw up a good thing. (Seriously! I've been doing it since the Corps days.) Still, I won't lie. The only reason I'm writing this blog entry is because I have an interest in someone. Perhaps I just answered my own question.

Hangover Heaven

This has been, by far, one of the most entertaining weekends of my life. So much so, in fact, that I have to put it in the Top 10 All-Time Best Time list. Actually, it started way prior to Friday.

I've been in and out of more bars than I can remember and, for some reason, I feel a rejuvenation in my game. Well, maybe not my game because I really don't have much of it anymore but I am actually excited about dating, flirting, etc., a little more lately. That might not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this but it is. For a long time, I was out of it. I didn't see myself with anyone. Still don't but I'm hopeful. That whole incident with me almost becoming a father really put things in perspective.

So there was a make out session last week with someone I really didn't think would be down for it. It was nice. Great, even! I hadn't done the "making out on the couch" thing in a long time. I felt like I was in high school and was making out at a girl's house whilst her parents were out. Sounds corny, I know but it's the little things that go miles and miles with me.


Then the flirting everywhere else...bars, bus stops, bookstores...has been a little out of control and overwhelming by my previously recent standards. I don't know what it is that's gotten into me but I'm riding out this wave for as long as I have it in me to do so.

Oh! And strippers help boost that surge inside me (And YES! I know it's really stupid to think they're after anything but money but I have a wonderful imagination!)

But anyway, I'm trying to calm down. I've drinking everyday for the the past five days; the culminaton coming on Saturday with the mother of all bachelor parties! (Hence the strippers. Stay focused!) I still have two more days off of work so I'm gonna enjoy them in the same fashion even though my funds are beginning to diminish. Hell! I'm writing this blog from BLVD Bar & Grill in Elmwood Park. Got a pint of Yuengling and a shot of Jack Daniels next to me. (I'm nursing the shit out of them but I'm still drinking! So much for "trying to calm down," huh?) Actually, I have to go to another bar to meet up with friends but I can't pry myself from this barstool because, if there's one thing I love better than anything, it's people-watching.

The person I'm watching at the moment is some cat named Freebird (I shit you not! That's his name.) I think he's homeless because I never see him with a beer in front of him and he's always eating people's leftovers but he's a gas to watch. Apparently, he likes jamming to the music on the juke. Right now, he's jamming to (Wait for it!) FREEBIRD! Homeless, in a bar, eating leftovers and jamming to Freebird. I don't know why, but I'm kinda jealous of him! LOL! (No, seriously! I am.)

This whole blog is an exercise in chaos! I know this. However, that's what happens when I'm in super hangover mode. My mind is pure chaos at the moment. I can't make sense of anything nor do I intend to. To quote one of my favorite movie phrases: I'm an agent of chaos!

20/20 Hindsight

I don't know who I was kidding with that last blog. Although I can't stop thinking about the girl and what my baby would've looked like, deep down, I was relieved that I wasn't going to be a father. As much as it pains me, I have to admit that. I mean, seriously, who am I kidding?! I'm still raising myself! Moreover, I'm doing a piss poor job of that. I'm not saving for the future. I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I have no ambitions. No goals. I'm not even too sure what makes me happy anymore or if I truly ever knew.

So no more brooding. We move on. We push forward. We do all the optimistic crap my friends (Tyger and Bubbles)* always tell me to do. I'm gonna take a vacation next week. Just for me. Just to see if I still know how to enjoy myself. Hopefully, it doesn't involve too many bars or too many gallons of beer but I seriously doubt that. Beer is the cornerstone of a good time for me. I might even try my hand at a few poker tables. As a matter of fact, I'm dying to find some poker action because I need to test out a theory. As the saying goes:

"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love."

If that is even slightly accurate then I should be a natural at poker. Even if I'm not, I love playing that game so it stands to reason that I should play for fun. Who knows? I might even win me some rent money.

All that aside, I still can't get my mind off of that girl. She vowed that she and I would never have sex again. If you don't know anything about me, the word "never" just makes me lock on to you like a cruise missile! It's one of my character flaws.

1) Always want what I can't have.
2) Don't know what I have until it's gone.
3) I always end up hurting what I love.

What's worse, they usually go off like dominoes. They set off a chain reaction that often leaves people (and me) in tears. However, now that the word, "never" was used, I want it even more; I want her even more. It's pure lust, I know but I can't resist.

UGH! What is wrong with me? Man, I can't wait for that vacation time! I don't know where I'm gonna go but I need to get away. Play some games, drink some beers and, God-willing, fuck some other chicks. As I always say: Nothing gets you over the last one like the next one!

*You know who you are!

I Just Lost One.

I've been brooding as of late. Too much on my mind. Since I haven't been around the blogosphere in awhile, I'll just cut to the chase: I got a girl pregnant. Now to tell you that story I have to tell you this one.

A decade or so ago, while I was in the U.S. Marine Corps, I was a communicator and worked with a lot of equipment that gave off a lot of radiation. Nothing murderous (that we knew of anyway) but it was known that it did give most of my sperm a tan, so to speak. Damn near everyone I served with, within my MOS, that had children almost always had girls. The reason being, is that said radiation from the equipment almost always destroyed the Y chromosome that made it possible to have boys. Well, my condition was a bit more severe. Apparently my sperm count was never up to par. At least, it wasn't as strong as when I started fucking at the ripe old age of 14 years old. (Go Mannix!) The docs said that would improve over time and that I shouldn't worry.

A year and some change ago, however, I went for a check up and my sperm count was still sub par. "Oh well," I said to myself. I consigned myself to the fact that I couldn't have kids. It wasn't just because of the opinions of a few physicians either. I was in a 3 year relationship with my then girlfriend and I know we had a ton of would-be accidents (most of them alcohol induced) and before her, I was in an on and off relationship with another woman for far longer that that and, since we were with each other and exclusive for so long, the use of protection was almost a non issue. Furthermore, these were women I had commited to. All that time, in two different, serious relationships and not one accident.

So now, I'm single. Shooting the shit. Having fun. Haven't been with a girl in awhile so, naturally, I jump at the chance when, pardon the term, "pussy presented itself" so willingly. How could I resist? The person in question wasn't a stranger either. It was just someone that I didn't think I would ever bed. A friend, let's call her Dolly*. (And yes, she's in a relationship with another person. Nothing I'm proud of but nothing I'm ashamed of either. It was one of those spontaneous, heat of the moment things and the sex was phenomenal!) We have no intentions of ever getting serious; no intentions of ever starting a family. So naturally, now I have the ability to have a kid. Now my sperm starts wanting to do it's job.

I could blame the new exercise regimen and proper diet I was on or just divine providence for my newfound vigor and "testicular fortitude" but that's irrelevant. What I can't help but find ironic is the fact that I conceived a child with a woman that I knew would never keep my seed.

Seeing my Goddaughter's deadbeat father and knowing of countless other stories of similar deadbeats, I know I would never be that way. Moreover, I wanted the child. Lord knows if this ONE time was just a fluke. That's all that kept running through my mind when I asked her what she wanted to do even though I knew the answer to that question before I asked it. She made a choice and as much as I hated this one particular choice, I respect her right to make it. To her credit, she seriously considered having my child. Knowing full well I may never have this opportunity again, she actually considered pretty much putting the kibosh on her entire relationship just to sire my child.

As depressed as I am about not having the privilege of being a father, I cannot fault her nor can I ever be mad at her. Not many friends, not even close ones, would ever even consider sacrificing so much.

So here I am, still brooding on the loss; still dreaming of the prospect of ever cradling a son or daughter of my loins in my arms. However, as much as I am saddened, I have newfound hope. It very well may be possible that I am still very capable of having a child of my own. Nevertheless, if I regret nothing else, I will anguish over one thing: My baby would've had the most beautiful eyes one could ever hope to gaze at.

*Names have been changed. Honor has to be protected.

Disconnected.

I can't believe how much of an internet addict I am. I had to come to the Starbucks in Edgewater, NJ to use their wi-fi just to type up this blog entry. Granted, I have access the internet on my iPhone and I never, EVER even consider shutting my fucking iPhone off ever! And still, I'm fucking freaking out that I don't have it at home. It's not enough to just be able to check my email and update my status on Facebook. I need to be able to comment multiple friend comments while excepting friend requests, write a blog and still be able to actively participate in Cafe World, Vampire Wars, etc. OH! And the lack of porn is a motherfucker!

Granted, living in a house with three women all of sudden puts a damper on my self-love sessions. (Self-Love? I am SO coining that phrase!) By the way, did I mention that I've moved back in with my mother, sister and Goddaughter in Union City and no longer have any privacy...EVER?! If I did, I don't know how it slipped my mind.

Needless to say, I recommended to my sister that she switch from Cablevision to Verizon. To be honest, I don't know why cable even exists! Fiber optics is much faster. Incidentally, I plan on getting Halo: Reach as soon as I get an X-Box 360 so I'll be needing that boost in internet performance. (Ok! So I have a vested interest in the need for better internet! Sue me!)

I'm still trying to get the money together to accomplish all of this though. Suffice it to say, while my thoughts and needs for internet all revolve around what some might consider childish needs, I am still attempting to behave like a responsible adult. (No, really! I am!) That being said, I don't have the money for either an X-Box 360 or the new internet hook-up. Everyone is suggesting I just get the X-Box so I can at least have something to do but that isn't good enough for me. I'm such an achievement whore that I can't enjoy playing the games without knowing said achievements will be properly saved to my gamertag, but I digress.

The grown up in me is fighting the kid in me. It's a struggle but I'm taking it one day at a time just like my alcohol problem. (The problem being that I don't have enough of it in my system at any given time of the day!)

Here's hoping my birthday next week affords me the opportunity to take care of one of those problems. (Gonna be 32, by the way.)

When I Get Bored, I Get Thirsty

I had forgotten how much this little cluster of towns had to offer. Everything is so fucking close together! While that may seem like a bad thing, I think it's fucking awesome. Bergenline Avenue alone boasts a wide variety of South American cuisine. Seriously, I think every fucking country is represented. Incidentally, between that and my mother's cooking, I'm getting fat again. Correction: I'm getting FATTER again. I was already fat to begin with.

I had forgotten about the endless amount of dollar stores, mom and pop shops and bodegas, bodegas, bodegas! It's good to have options people. That's all I'm saying. However, for all of these options, there isn't a decent pub within spitting or pissing distance. Sure I can go to the Whiskey Bar, Black Bear, McSwiggins or any number of pubs in Hoboken but I must confess, I've gotten spoiled living in Little Ferry for so long. I miss having a bar that's literally right down the street. I'm not saying there aren't any around here in Union City but a majority of them aren't even pubs. OH! And some of them aren't even legitimate businesses. A tell-tale sign of that is when you're in a bar and it doesn't show up on any Google or Yelp business searches but you know for a fact it's been there over a year. Also, if there's a shitload of security for such a small space, either get the fuck out or take your chances.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

Mannix, Mannix! Why, oh why is drinking cold, draft beer at pubs your only form
of entertainment?!

The answer is simple: there aren't enough comic book stores, firing ranges, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu dojos or strip clubs around to keep my overactive attention span occupied. Ok well, actually there are but they're also ridiculously expensive either in one sitting or over time and, as much as I want to have fun, I must remember that I have to save money because I can't allow this whole "living at home" thing to become permanent, but I digress.

Actually, I don't know why I love pubs and bars so much other than the fact that I'm a tempered alcoholic. (I have to remember to coin that phrase.) However, having moved back to my old stomping grounds and having not only Hoboken but Manhatten all the more closer to me, I've been attempting to discover newer forms of entertainment. The problem is, well, I'll be damned if I know what I'm really passionate about. Let's go through the list:

• Beer
• Sex
• More Beer
• More Sex
• Comic books
• Video games
• Mixed Martial Arts
• Firearms

Hmm...maybe I should broaden my horizons before I start contemplating being passionate about something. Then again, I love doing the pub thing. Last night, in Elmwood Park, I visited my friend Jamie but as she was busy pouring drinks, I realized that I loved people watching and listening in on all manner of conversations both casual and slightly odd. I loved it.

So, while change is good and discovering new things would be a boon to my imagination, why should I stop doing what already makes me happy?

That being said, I'll see you at the pub!

Home Sweet Holy Moley!

Before I get started and go off on a tangent elaborating the title of this blog, a disclaimer is in order. Let it be known that I love my family. Be it nuclear or extended, blood is blood. Even when we argue, I know that when the shit hits the fan, I can always count on my family.

That being said, I must've been out of my mind when I decided to move back home! While it's convenient at the moment, I should've really thought out moving back home with not just my mother but my mother, sister and Goddaughter. Even if they weren't family, a single man, nay, any man, should think long and hard before moving into a house with three women. Why, you ask? If you shut up, I'll tell you. Ok. Women living together tend to drive each other bananas and if one isn't careful (And by "one" I mean "anyone with a penis who values his sanity"), one might get sucked into the maelstrom of illogical insanity that women seem to create out of nothing. Here I am, in a house with not just three women but three moms.

My mother loves having me home. Being her only son and the baby of the family to boot, I get doted on a lot. Much to the chagrin of my older sister. My sister loves that I'm home and can not only be a distraction to my mother but that I can also keep an eye on my Goddaughter. As for my "little mom," she pretty much runs my life and I think she's just happy to have me around. I missed her too so I'm just as excited to be living there for the majority of the summer. I'm having a blast so far. Oh! And did I fail to mention that I'm helping out with the rent, groceries, gas for the cars and the occasional payment of parking tickets that both my mother and sister seem to be magnets for? Hmmm...must've slipped my mind.

Anyway, I have to be careful. If I know them, they'll never kick me out and it's easy to get complacent when you have people who cook you meals and clean your clothes plus lend you their cars or give you rides everywhere. Incidentally, my mother's cooking alone has reminded me that I have to start working out even more rigorously. Add to that that my sister is always giving me a ride to wherever I need to go and I'm not burning calories anymore.

Chief among the reasons I have to leave is the fights. When women fight, they can fight! It's usually fierce and it's enough to drive one crazy. Moreover, they make a man long for the peace and sometimes quiet of a bachelor pad; a man-cave, if you will. And lest we forget, I may want to get laid sometime this year... or decade.

So, I'm definitely moving out as soon as I can. I might even start looking for an apartment soon too! Well, maybe after I get out of work, go eat breakfast and take a nap at home. Yeah! I'm definitely finding my own place...eventually. Maybe. I hope.