I feel like I owe my regular readers, supporters, and sponsors an apology and an explanation, for the disturbing lack of fresh content lately. Rest assured, I am safe, I am not having any medical problems, and I’m as free as any of us can be. I had gotten a few comments asking if I was okay, and depending on how loosely we use that word, I am.
I am definitely not going to stop writing, recording, or producing content, what I’m going through right now could be summed up as writer’s block. I just haven’t felt very creative, and the little bit of creativity I do possess has had an outlet every Wednesday night on Free Talk Live, a nationally syndicated radio show that airs on over 160 broadcast stations across the United States. I would encourage you to check it out. If it doesn’t air near you, you can listen on LRN.fm from 7-10pm EST.
I have alluded to it before, but I’ve been going through some strange emotional issues. Shortly after I moved to New Hampshire, I fell madly in love with a woman. A beautiful, sexy, fun, and terribly damaged woman, who I felt suited me perfectly. She was easily the best lover I have had since my last serious relationship ended in an abortion and me falsely arrested for domestic harassment in New York more than seven years ago.
After that arrest (the case was eventually dismissed FWIW), I had largely given up on the concept of love. I thought of it as sort of childish. A silly adolescent emotion that adults rightly do away with as they grow more mature and purposely find more suitable mates. This suited me well for the last seven years as I have kept women at a safe emotional distance, while doing my best to fuck as many of them as possible. I suspect if you asked the woman who derailed my train up here, she’d tell a similar story about men.
So falling under that spell yet again at the age of 33 has completely fucked me up. I have been feeling things that I didn’t even realize I was still capable of feeling. It leads me to contemplate a great many things, which we’ll discuss in more detail later on.
The woman in question eventually blew me off and treated me very badly in the process. She saw me doing business with a person she didn’t care for as some kind of ghastly betrayal. She sent me nasty messages that more resembled those of YouTube commenters than those of a loved one trying to address a problem. She cast doubt upon the sincerity of the feelings I had about her. I normally let nasty remarks roll off my back with ease, and even find them entertaining, but coming from a woman I was in love with, I was devastated by them.
So in a relatively short period of time, I went from having my faith in love restored, to having it crushed all over again. I went from elation, hope, and euphoria – to anxiety, depression, and despair.
This was followed by a string of sexual encounters with different women, the majority of which were entirely meaningless, serving as little more than distraction and sport, oh, and a whole lotta drinkin. It was like a scene out of Californication, only without the redeeming qualities of the main character, and less attractive people all around.
I then became hopelessly infatuated with a colleague. I had been interested in her from the moment we met some time ago, but found myself in close proximity to her more recently. That interest, combined with the genuine admiration and respect I had for her, the ongoing emotional train wreck of the previous relationship, and the close proximity, really sent me spiraling out of control emotionally. I became so fixated on her, that I could barely think of anything else. She was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes in the morning, the last thing I thought of as I drank myself to sleep, and frankly, what I thought about most of the day. I had trouble concentrating on anything else.
To hear her tell it, these feelings were entirely unreciprocated.
Both the infatuation, and the unrequited love bit, are things I can scarcely recall the last time I experienced. College age, if not high school. Again, I thought these things were behind me. I don’t too frequently pursue women. I let them come to me, and come to me they do. Most go just as quickly, and a small handful have stuck around for a few months or years. In any case, this experience was so fucking devastating that I could scarcely get out of bed.
Some distance has been placed between myself and this colleague, and I’m now dealing with those feelings and fairing much better.
Still, the whole experience does weigh on me, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with it.
The learned instinct of previous emotional disasters is to shut this all down. To extricate these feelings from my psyche, and go back to being a reptile brained sociopath who purposely avoids emotional attachments, while perpetually seeking out casual sex with equally unavailable women.
On the other hand, holy crap it felt good to love again. If only there were some way to prevent it from turning into a medieval torture chamber every single fucking time. Perhaps, I should allow myself to be more vulnerable. Perhaps, fucking and chucking is not all it’s cracked up to be after all. Perhaps the next time a woman who is interested actually treats me good, I shouldn’t build emotional walls, panic, or intentionally fuck things up like I have in the past.
In any case, these are the thoughts that have occupied my mind for the last few months. I don’t feel good about airing personal matters that involve others, and as we’re seeing, I’m not very good at writing about these matters. That’s why I haven’t been producing as much content. I’m barely even checking the headlines lately. I am working through all of this, I plan to try and get some sobriety back under my belt, and before you know it I’ll be back to producing at least a few times a week. Then things will really get interesting.
Thank you all so much for your support and encouragement, and I’m sorry for being so quiet.
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