Walking with my head down, counting every step. Hoping that the next one brings me closer to the man I was. (Be)cause I was way better. Maybe it's because we were together. I said I'm looking for myself and I still can't find me...Who am I? Someone remind me. All my life I'm searching. Somehow I ran right into you.
Escaping on a tightrope trying not to fall. If I don't keep my balance, I know I will lose it all. I should have known better. It's all my fault that we're not together.
I was on a journey trying to figure out who I really was. Then I realized that, when you're not here, half of me is gone. So in order for me to find me, I had to FIND YOU (see below). And you know? I got a funny feeling that you won't know who you are unless you find me. It's like you look in the mirror and you see the person that you truly love.
Let's not forget. For all the colorful characters met and experiences endured, neither Dorothy nor Alice really went anywhere. Still they each got exactly where they needed to be. Moral of the story: It's the same journey over and over and, like, you're already there (kinda). Until we stop looking for answers in others and waiting for them (whoever "them" is) to give us permission to BE WHO WE REALLY ARE (see above), we'll never get it right.
Thank god. I really need to believe that true happiness isn't outside myself. I hate to say it, but I just don't see much hope on the dating horizon. It's not that I don't want to be completely swept off my feet. Holy shit I totally fucking do. I'm a romantic. I'm even looking forward to an eventual relationship. But it takes at least two other people for that.
And in order to actually get in a relationship, there's a lot of silliness to wade through. A friend recently told me he was in Cali when another guy walked up, tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "top or bottom?" Really? What about, "Hello. Are you a top or bottom?" Maybe I'm too old fashioned. I know I show my dick and butthole all over the net, but I'm still a gentleman ;-) And even though I fuck on the first date, I still want to be wined, dined and sixty-eighted: You do me and I'll owe you one. Pardon. Sixty-eaten. (Yeah. It's late.)
The other month, I agreed to let a new FWB spend a night. A little before 11:30p, he went to the corner store... and came back three hours later. I thought he was fucking dead! No. Seriously. He'd left his phone on my sofa. So I couldn't exactly call him. After about 40 minutes, I went out to check the stores and didn't find him. What could I do? When he finally came back, I didn't even say anything. I was just glad he was okay. I simply showed him what was left of all the (cold) food I'd ordered for us, left him in the living room and went back to bed. The next day, we had a really (really) good fuck and I silently called it done.
Over the following weeks, he blew my phone up until I finally just said, look dude. There's no need for you to continue hitting me up. There was just no way I was going to be bothered with anybody that inconsiderate. That's what I get, though. The reason he even went to the store in the first place was to replace a cord on the video game he brought over for us to play :-/