Fuck-Up or Good Candidate?

I swear I’m like freakin’ two-face from the Batman comics (yes the one played by Tommy Lee Jones in the movie, and yes, I thought that was a horrible choice of actor). Sometimes, and I’m thinking this is more during my younger years, I think of myself as a good boyfriend/husband candidate. I remember distinctly how my girlfriend in college would always get compliments on her wonderful boyfriend was. “Oh girl you so lucky. John takes such good care of you. You better hold on to that one.” I would hear this on several occasions, which would make my girlfriend smile and squeeze my arm tighter, and make me blush and feel like I’m the man that I planned to be. The guy that finished his doctorate degree, makes a descent salary, listens to his girl, but doesn’t let her run his life. He dresses really nice, and doesn’t hide his emotions, enough for people to think that there’s a 10% chance that he’s gay, but still can kick it with the guys any night of the week and blow you away with his sports knowledge so then those same girls think, “oh yeah, he’s not gay. As matter of fact, if he was my man, he’d be making me hollar the second we got home”. That is who I wanted to be since the age of 16. The person who you can count on to say something that would make you laugh hysterically enough that you make snorting sounds with your nose and pee in your pants. The guy you can call at 3am, when you had the shittiest of shitty days in the month of Shittember, and know that if he doesn’t have the correct answer, he’ll at least listen to you, and give you some assurance that even though things are bad now, they will somehow get better. The guy who doesn’t go out and start fights, but if shit goes down, he’s got your back even though he only weighed 140 pounds at the time, and was wearing glasses. It’s true that at a very young age I set out to be the guy that I would want to date and eventually marry if I was a chick. (If I didn’t throw chick at the end of that sentence, it would have really sounded gay, but it still holds true).

In some ways, I am that man, but now that I’m reaching 30, I look in the mirror and doubt myself. I still say funny things off the top of my head, but yet there have been a ton of shit that flies out of my mouth that is just downright corny, and I know this, and yet I still say them. I have always been pretty smart with my money, which is good even when you make descent money, and yet, I have more clothing than I have shelves, I have video games that have yet to have their security seals broken, and have like 35 pairs of sneakers that have never even been laced up. I have been dating this stunningly attractive girl, who cracks me up, and looks at me with through a pair of eyes that make me feel like I’m worth my weight in platinum, and yet I haven’t put nearly enough effort as I have in the past. “Why” do you ask? I’m embarrassed to say that I have no explanation. Is it because she’s not the same race as me? That may make things more difficult if we decided to get married, but that never stopped me before. Is there something wrong chemistry-wise or are you not sexually attracted to her? I can confidently answer “NO”. But still, I can’t make plans for things for us to do, think of places for us to go, or things for us to try besides spending random free time at my apartment. What is the damn problem? Has my previous psycho relationships left that bad of a taste in my mouth? Am I scared of trying to please someone who will eventually turn psycho and make me want to change my cell # and email address? Yes, but not every girl is a psycho. Am I buckling under the pressure placed on me by my family, my job, the government and myself? Possibly, but I refuse to use that as an excuse. Every person has stress, even white people who ride yachts wearing popped up collars on their polo shirts while sipping crystal. Stress, no matter whether it’s coming from external sources or from that little voice in your head, must be dealt with and dealt with quick. Apparently, I’m a little late in that department, but that only means I have to catch up.

I’m just sick of my current position in life and I think the time to improve is way overdue. I think I must use the “baby steps” approach like in the movie “What about Bob?” because any change too drastic never lasts. I must moderate my drinking, which has caused too many hang- overs, extra inches on my waist, and almost landed me in jail the other night for a DUI. (There are very few things more sobering than flashing police lights while you’re sitting on the curb with a cop looking through your car and checking your record. More on that another time). I must get a new job, one that still pays pretty good, but something that’s more interesting and enjoyable (haha, good luck with that, sucka). I must stop buying sneakers!!! (no matter how dope they are). I must organize my schedule a lot more. (A friend of mine told me that she would not date anyone that didn’t own a planner, and bitched out her ex-boyfriend for not having one. I laughed at her and thought she was an anal psycho, but now I think she may be on to something). I must write more, even if it sucks, even if it doesn’t make sense and it takes up more of my free time. I just have to do it. And I must put more effort into the people who put effort towards me. Yes, it maybe too little too late but I have to try anyways. I just think that there are so many people out there that are willing to take a shit on your shoes before they smile and ask you “how are you doing?” and actually mean it, that you should be emotionally obligated to go out of your way for the people who actually give a damn. Even if I don’t marry that girl, or she decides to never acknowledge my presence on an empty street, she is one of the warmest people that I’ve met. She has endured more pain than you’d wish to experience, and I’m a complete idiot for even coming close to adding to that pain. She at least deserves more than the shitty flowers that I sent to her office using a discount service (Note: DO NOT USE FTD.COM. Trust me).

I must be “that guy” again. That feeling of knowing what you’re doing is right felt so good back in them days. It gave me such confidence every where I went. That confidence is severely lacking right now, and I think it shows in almost everything that I do. What’s done is done, and unless you overdose on drugs, or get hit by a car, you should be able to do something better tomorrow. Or at least try to. I am going to try again. There are no more excuses not to. Maybe if I’m “that guy” again, girls will smell the confidence wreaking from my pores and pay me some attention. Maybe if I’m “that guy” again, their girl friends will give them compliments on being with me too. Only time will tell.