Hope

Post #101

Fairytales. Fairytales never start good and end good. They start bad. Sometimes they start horrible, even horrific. But they end good. They end with happily ever afters, sunrises, and happy faces.

The theme of all fairytales is hope.

. . . and I am hopeful.

Hope

Why do you steal. . . ?




. . . . because karma doesn't work fast enough.

Things I wish I said when I was younger

"Ms. Tanss!" Andy said after I popped a crumpled piece of paper from my table onto his face. "Jonathan threw a piece of paper at me."

Ms. Trass looked at me with feverish eyes, she pointed to me and taunted me to come over. I took my sorry feet over to her. She was going to move me.

"Wait!" And time stopped.

"Could I just say one thing," I proclaimed looking out onto the thirty people who made up my sixth grade class. "You! Andy! You're a crybaby!"

The smirk on his face of me walking towards my desk wiped off immediately.

"I take so much crap from everyone at this school because I have a rash that I can't control on my skin. And look at you, you're an irritating person who likes Pokemon and talking long walks with your boyfriend Cameron. Grow up! You're a crybaby."

"Just stop crying over every little thing in your life. Nobody likes a crybabies. Especially one that has nothing to cry about."

List

Some nights, okay most nights, I take a walk around the empty parking lot at Safeway. It gives me time to think, not to mention fresh air which is rare living where I live. I haven't worked out much lately, I've been having a lot of sex with a person I really care for, and I've lost a lot of weight; I know this because my medium v neck shirts don't fit anymore. The weight of polluted horded air has been weighing down my lungs, it's not helping that my thyroid is going through one of it's seasonal waves where my heartbeats are palpitating more than usual.

Yep, despite the one girl keeping me steady here, she's beautiful by the way, other than her, I'm pretty much depressed. I can't get a job, I can't get out of here, I'm going through the same thing I've been going in and out of for the past three years, and the thyroid ain't helping. I can't talk to women much, because the quickened metabolism keeps tweaking me, and I can't keep my hands steady. Confidence at it's seasonal low. Yeah, I'm depressed, scattered, complaining, and panic'y. And what do we do when we panic? We make a list.

What do I want to do?

I want to go to college in Oregon. I want to travel to New Zealand and live off apple orchards. I want to go to London. Fly planes, write books, read more, write books. I want to get out of here.

What can I do right now?

Thursdays vocational work orientation, wish me luck. I just can't get a normal job, I throw out 11 resumes online a day. I can blog, I can keep busy. Watch episodes of Glee and Friends, mask the fact that I am where I am.

What's keeping me here? The thoughts that I don't care much about right now.

257 dollars in Credit Card debt.
200 dollars I owe to my auntie.
The lack of a job, car, a place to stay.
Maybe I could just peddle, and bum around. I spent most of my life being a street rat anyways, I minus well take a chance on it.
Metabolic diseases that I just happen to grab and keep for the rest of my life.
There is waaay more to this category.

What are the good things keeping me here?

Good friends. Friends I haven't had awhile. Not just the very good friend, singular, that I have in certain semesters of my life. But good friends, that hang out and that I do things with.

Her. I know I'm going to miss here whenever I do leave this rat hole. She's so emotionally tender with me. She knows I'm breaking down a lot, and she understands that. It's hard living where I am. I only see her every other week, as she does live two cities away, but an hour train ride away. After awhile, I've found out that it's really hard to sleep alone.

"Freak'n Brandon," I said.
"What?" said Gavin.
"'Hey I'm Brandon, I didn't catch your name.' Who says that!" I said, talking about how our friend tried his luck with the girl that was helping us load the band equipment by letting us use her dolly. Gavin and I were heading back to the studio to hang out for a bit with the group. We were going to stop by Taco Bell first, and then unload the equipment.

"Yeah, it was pretty funny," Gavin replied, "What'd you say to that one girl you were talking to?"
"Nothing, pretty simple stuff, I just asked her if she knew where the bathroom was, and she was like, 'No, I'm looking for the bathroom too.' And then I said, 'Wow we have so much in common,' and it just kept going from there."

The sunrise right before the credits

"There's just a lot of gay people who talk with a lisp," I said.
"My cousin talks with a lisp, are you saying he's gay?" David said.
"I didn't say that." I could hear it awkwardly turn silent. Nadine, who stood beside me, because I was talking to her in the first place, walked away from me putting herself back behind the front desk. I originally worked with David, but then I moved to a different facility. As I stood behind the front desk I could see his aggravated cracking eyes, calling for a fight. All I said, was that some gay people talk with a lisp. That's all! This guy, my coworker first of all, had to specify himself, as if every conversation was deeply concerned about how he feels and the world could only strike a conversation stricken to his rules and his depravity. FUCKING PATHETIC PEOPLE!

"Dude. . ." I put my hand out and chose my words carefully, "I didn't mean to offend you." The words came out broken, as I felt my insides tremble as I do every time I tend to hurt people's feelings without meticulously choosing my words. As if this conversation was the end of all things and all good people.

"Don't worry, you already offended me," he said proudly.


I remember walking into work 2 days later. I wasn't scheduled to work, but I had to talk to my supervisor, because apparently David said that there was a abrasive interaction, a confrontation, between him and I. I was the one who even planned on calling my supervisor first to seem like I wasn't the bad guy, thinking how would a douchebag deal with this situation. Obviously the true douchebag beat me to the punch. I sat in her office as casual as I could be, and line for line told her what had happened, all the while with her boss in the room too. I told her exactly word for word what I said, and the deliberate actions he took, the way he exploded, the way he took the situation further. How I walked away, but then walked back in to say I'm sorry, but also say how unprofessional it was for him to act this way at work, and how he replied with, "So it's my fault." And how I replied with, I'm just telling you how I feel. And what he said next, even though I was already finished talking. I said something about talking to him like a man, like an adult, and he said something along the lines as to, I shouldn't talk to him about being a man or an adult because he was older.

I thought about how I was a monster, stepping on the toes of everyone somehow. I also thought about this guy's racial category and how somehow his race has a trend of frustrated, cowardly, yet big on talk, yet big on stepping up, and stupidly going through life as if he has every right to step on everyone's toes and mean it, and somehow accepts his stupidity. I thought about how racist I was. I thought about how much he needed to seem better than me. How much he doesn't have friends. How much he must be one of those guys who looked at the way I would talk to Nadine, even though she had a boyfriend, and felt alone and sad, like the other guys who've tried their hand. He was just another one of them, pathetic and alone and jealous of me, and practically everyone in every way, and that's why he was mad.

* * * * *

A few weeks ago, I noticed Nadine deleted me off facebook. I believed it was because her boyfriend thought of me as weird. Somewhere in my mind I thought it was because of my confrontation with David. And somewhere in my mind, even though I would've lost a great friend, I thought it could be because David got fired over that confrontation, and that would be my karma. That would be my happily ever after, my settled score, my sunrise right before the credits. Those thoughts made me happy.

I quit several weeks after that. No reason, they just didn't have anymore graveyard shifts open for me.

I thought about it today. It practically happened several months ago, but I tend to remember everything that I try not to remember. I needed to know. I was just needing of an answer. I called work on a restricted number, a number I've never used to call work. The phone rang. I thought about how much this must be wasting my minutes.

A girl named Avery answered the phone. Should I back out now, just hang up, I thought. I didn't know an Avery though.

"Yeah, is David working there?"

I could hear the suttle confused hesitation traveling over the phone lines, "David doesn't work here anymore," she said. I could hear her giggle unprofessionally.

I smiled. He got fired. I started laughing.

Peter leaned on the bookshelf, his shoulders waned down. His eyes unbuttoned as he hung the magazine he had in his hand sadly by his waist.

"It's okay Pete, we've moved on," I said. "Some people just have to move on."

I faced away from him, selecting between two books which titles I didn't care for, with pages I didn't feel to read, but I flipped through anyways, just to look preoccupied. Just to seem like it was indeed okay. "I never really belonged there anyways. I mocked and patronized the church, and never fit in. I left awhile ago, and since then I've had sex with incredible women, went to places I wouldn't have been able to go, and did things that I just wouldn't have done, if I was in church."

"Yeah, but you should still come back, you still need God in your life."

"Maybe," I replied. "But remember how you said I needed to be different, and that there was nothing wrong with me and deep down I was misunderstood and was really a good person, but I just needed to be different to fit in. . ." I stared at Pete's head, his eyes still wearing away.

"Well I was different," I said. "I just didn't belong in your church."

The Tense Timid Air Circles Around You

Timid people have no reason to treat people like they're lower than themselves. These timid people, stop conversations, flare out arguments, over what! What is so important in life that these people have such an uptight view on the world? How could you, after your mom has bought you a car, after your family has sent you to college, say that your family needs to get a grip on life. Say that your friends need to be better people. What have you done for people? What have you paid back that you've taken? You're the one who needs to get a grip on things.

We! We are the ones with actual problems, settled in the corners of fucked up situations. We were the ones that never got saved. We were the ones that never asked for anything, and worked tooth and nail biting our way through ever since we could stand. We were the ones that needed saving more than anyone else. Where was our ride home? Where was our dinner? Where was our money to go to college? Where was our computers linking us to the opportunities that came short in of walking distance? Where was our HOME? Where? We had nothing!

You timid ones tell everyone to piss off, fuck off, quietly jestering the fact that you have no friends. No social crown. You're just lightly playing the crowds only to someday realize, the only people who bow down to your self acclaimed life are pathetic artifial people who will say anything for you, do anything for you, love the fact that they are second to you, and kiss the floors your foot traces shapes. Those aren't real people. They're facilitations. Unimportant ghost. The real people, are having a good time, patting each other on the back, fucking around, and asking where everyone will be tomorrow. Why? Because they have a sense of humor. And they could make friends.

See, I tell a joke and you get offended then leave. And a tense timid air surrounds the room even without you there, as if you just farted.

But, when you come into a room, the circle sees you, and that same tense timid air surrounds the room.

I fuck with you because I know you can't take it. I fuck with you because you know you need the change. I fuck with you because everyone around you deserves it. I fuck with you because your too fucking uptight, and you really deserve to smile. I fuck with you because you need it.

I fuck with you because I want to, because I deserve to.

I fuck with you because it's soo easy.

lights off

In the evening when we come home we turn the lights off to save electricity.

At night, when we're sleeping, we turn the lights on to avoid getting robbed.

At Large

I wonder what I should do about Grace.

Grace. <<
She went into a relationship a few weeks ago. Now every so often I check back with her profile, I see updates on who she is. It depresses me. The truth is, I fell for her. Since the first day, since the time I walked up to meet her, thinking, this is the one I'm going to take it slow with. This is the one who's going to stay. She didn't.

Like most PUA's, and like myself, I held out for the girl. Called her voicemail, and waited. Talked to her online, made plans to meet, and waited. Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. She fell off the map. I saw her almost every time I got online. And I beat myself up for this little short punk music listening girl. I beat myself up for all women I meet and fail with.

I should just delete her.

But I know I won't. I know I'll regret it.

When I look at my life moving forward. I know there will be places I travel. I don't know whether or not I'd choose to share those places with someone, or find those places of someone.

I removed Nicole this morning. She got into a relationship. I thought about what leaving her on there could do for me. Then I thought about what taking her off altogether could do for me. So I took her off.

It's not something I'm proud of doing. It's just something I need to do altogether. Not hold out for people.

What you see, is so much more.

I, and a few others, transferred to Ms. Mullen's class the day before she was going to give out the test in 7th grade. She said if the new students wanted they could take it for extra credit. I sat at home, took my biology book, and read the chapter twice that evening. I woke up and read it again. It was lunch. I stayed in an empty classroom and read the chapter again, outloud, just like the other three times. I was 2 points away from an A. Out of 30 something people who've been studying the same subject for 2 months, I managed to get a better score than most of those people within one evening and one morning.

It was sophomore year when we had to write a poem. I threw a bunch of 4 letter words together, with rhymes bluntly stabbed in places, hoping that they would work. I remember looking at my end product. I remember not feeling so great about it when I turned it in. The big deal wasn't that I made a terrible poem, it wasn't, in fact there was probably no way I could've done poorly on it. It was a poem. However, the problem was, that I thought I was so much more better.

I spent my whole freshmen year doing whatever I could to beat Shawn in Cross Country. Why, because I thought I was so much more better, and after pretty much one third of the season, I did. I just wanted to be better. I just wanted to be more. After my poorly composed poem I threw myself in the corner of every local library and dissected poetry from John Keats, Robert Browning, Pablo Neruda, Emily Dickinson. I read several books on the art of producing poetry. How to books. Vocabulary books. Poetry for Dummies. Vocabulary for Dummies. I would attempt to read The Count of Monte Cristo and never get passed the first few chapters because all I cared about was looking up every single word that I did not know. I read chapters on assonance, the use of repeating vowel sounds. Onomatopoeia. Paradoxes. Stuff no normal teenager with a life would actually embark on finding out unless they really had to. I, on the other hand, had no life.

After a long long intimate timid relationship with words, I gradually, but not easily, eased off of it. I remember reading my classmates essay one day. We were reading essays out loud and after I read a certain sentence, I asked her if she noticed that it rhymed with itself. I said the sentence outloud again. I don't remember the sentence, but I remember that one of the words that rhymed was "pregnancy."

It wasn't until 2 years ago when I took a college poetry class, that I finally realized that I was reading mostly all poetry wrong; pausing after each line as if it were a sentence when there was no rhyme scheme. My class of pencil pushing, eyeglass wearing, tight pants conformed classmates looked down on me as the "untalented jock." I still remember everyone's face, I still remember my teacher's face, when I pointed out the reoccurring sounds in a poem, and called it assonance. Everyone's face flooded with confusion.

I wasn't stupid. I was never stupid to begin with. Somehow how I just come off that way.

After I watched Mystery talk on Conan O'Brien. I drove to Barnes and Nobles everyday and read The Mystery Method, along with several books about etiquette. After Mystery Method, it was The Game. After The Game, after reading a lot of Classic Writings, I was supposed to read Sinn's Speed Seduction. But, someone showed me Magic Bullets, The Routines Manual, How to make friends and influence people. I never had time to write field reports. I never saw my early successes as much of anything. I only saw them as assignments.

There are things I failed poorly at. There are things I failed to excel in. Guitar. Starting a business. Getting a minimum wage job. With most of these thing I feel my intelligence hasn't flourished. My potential squandered. And having hyperthyroidism, a disease that increases your metabolism sometimes messing with my nervous system, isn't helping.

Tim Ferris said, "It is often times what you do, not how you do it, that is the determining factor. This is the difference between being effective, doing the right things, and being efficient, doing things well whether or not they're important."

I remember one of my colleagues wrote on his blog years ago that he writes essays for fun as a result to taking so and so's class. I remember because I bet he thought he was a really cool nerd for self validating himself. Well I write essays and no one I know in real time is here to see how smart I am. No one ever knew what I was capable of. Whether it be blowing up a middle school, or writing a stupid essay. Where's my validation? It's nowhere. I'm doing this for myself. That I could be married with the woman I want. The books that I write that I'm happy with. The songs that I compose that say what I meant them to say. And the broad hope that maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right.

Within minutes

The girl you're talking to mentions she has a boyfriend.

Her boyfriend's an okay guy. You barely know him.

You barely know her.


Within minutes

Her friendship draws you in peacefully

Her thoughts of you are only those you imagined

She laughs, she plays. The slight details of her eyes

Scream innocent drops of saliva churning under your tongue.


I'm glad we left early tonight. I'm glad

I left early tonight. She'll find it time to fall asleep.

And it was always inevitable. It was already written

the way she'll hold her hand in his.

I gave up on prayer a long time ago.

I gave up on prayer when God stopped listening.

Through the Window

(August 18)

I threw a punch. My closed fist ripped into my brother's eye. He threw a punch, and it landed in the back of my head, slightly disorienting me.


* * * * *


My brother stole my battery today. It was charging upstairs in the laundry room and I fell asleep. I was supposed to call Jason today, and figure out plans for the next 6 months of my incredibly not busy life. I asked my mom if she took the phone, and she said it should be where I left it, she just put it in a small box. Of course, the small box was a horded box filled with envelopes, small screws, and infinite papers. No phone.

I would have so much more to life if I had a job, or a car, or a place that doesn't corrode the inside of my throat so that every 9 minutes I have to clear my throat like a dying old man hooked up to an oxygen machine. Earlier this morning I went into my friend's work, the only place of work I was referenced at. The only place that I was sure was a sure thing. I had my dad drive me down the 6 minute drive which for my dad somehow took 21 minutes.

I walked through the double doors with my resume, my references, my birth certificate, and even my passport, and the first thing the receptionist asked was, "Did you bring your DMV printout." I haven't driven for 3 months. My license is expired.

On the ride home my dad told me I wouldn't get anywhere in life because I was rude and selfish. I asked my dad to drop me off at the grocery store across the street from my house. I took the cookie samples they have at the bakery. Take one, I took four. This is the life. Self proclaimed PUA, staying in walking distance, having to steal cookies, asking my dad for rides. I'm in 8th grade all over again.

I came home. My dad didn't say much. I can't do anything here, I can't. I've tried. I wanted to ask Jason if I could move in with him in Marin, just until the trade job takes me in 6th months. But, I couldn't find the number in my dad's phone. It was in my old phone I left charging. No phone. No call. No way out. Please hold one moment.

My brother came home. I opened the door and walked to the kitchen.

"You have my phone."
"I'll have it in a sec."
"Give me back my phone."
"Okay okay," he pulled my red Kyocera phone out. "I don't have the battery."
"Where's the fuckin battery."
"I gave it to a friend, I'm about to get it right now."
"Why the fuck did you steal my phone in the first place."
"I don't know Jaypee, I don't have a room."

What the fuck!

I told my brother that we were going to get the phone right now. We walked outside, and we passed our designated garage. He threw a bunch of things. I waited. He threw a bunch of things. Grabbed a few scraps of paper. I waited.

"Okay let's go."
"You know we're walking right?"
"Why are we walking, you have the key to your car."
"I can't fucking drive you fucking idiot, my license is fucking expired."
"What, you afraid of some cops man."
"It's fucking illegal."

We walked back and forth in the apartment parking lot as my brother called my nigger and fucking Ameri'can. And don't I know, that he got beat up by cops. It was ten years ago when my brother left for jail before he left Highschool. It was ten years ago. And every morning I've woken up to the same fucked up story about how he got beat up by cops.

"I just fucking want, my fucking battery!" I said.
"Don't follow me."
"It's my fucking battery."
"You want to walk, we'll walk."
"Okay, we'll fucking walk." I could see the cars staring at us yelling at each other as we walked back and forth on the street.
"Don't follow me."

He walked up to me, his chest pressed forward. He nudged me with his elbow. I threw his face back by his neck. I shot in, tackling his legs. And just like that traffic stopped as my brother and I decked into the street, my thumbs ripping into his eye sockets. He pushed me off and I followed him back to the sidewalk, walking back home. Back where we started. I followed short of him, while he told me I was an Ameri'can and I was a Nigger. I turned around, and I pushed him before he could say anything stupid. I threw my fist into his face, and he threw one into the back of my head. I shot for his legs and he kicked me off. "I get it, you think your tough," he said.

"Don't you know I'm on probation," he said leading up the stairs to our house. "Hurry up, before the neighbors see."
"Exactly!" I said, "Why do the fuck do you do this stupid shit then."

My brother sat on the porch as I walked into my house. I threw my shirt off my shoulders and put another one on while I sat on my bed. My brother left. I could see him through my window.

* * * * *

"I don't know Ivan, I've been here for 2 years, don't you think I would've got a job by now," I said into the phone. I know out of all people, Ivan didn't want to hear from me. I haven't been back to church since I left a year ago. Maybe more.

"Dude, it's your fuckin attitude. I know it's not what you want to hear but you need to stop being fucking rude, and be realistic," he said. I promised him that I was listening. But, he knew I wasn't.

While I was asleep

i went to a psychiatric ward when i was in 8th grade

they put me in a gown and everything

and the suicidal girl next to me

who had really dirty socks

was actually really pretty.

but they pushed her in her room

and i couldn't talk to her anymore.

She left while I was asleep.

A Moment in Vegas

Ally pulled her towel up her body, the shape of her bare rear uncovered as she pulled her undergarments out from her luggage. I stayed seated behind her. Gavin and Carlin's faces devoured the hotel pillows as they slept off in absence of what was happening. The only one still awake was Nomi, she sat on the window sill with a book in her hand and an apple in the other. Ally, undressed, stood between me and her.

I traced the shape of Ally's long skinny white legs as she dug into her luggage, her back towards me. She placed her panties down and stepped into them, slightly bending over, the towel slightly rising above her legs. She slightly pulled her hands into the towel, wrapping her butt with silk see through cloth, dropping the towel.

Nomi didn't move. She didn't flinch at all. There was a naked woman between me and her and Ally's bare breasts were facing towards her. I could taste the tense saliva behind my throat and my whole body doing as much as it could to turn the pages of the magazine I held in my hand. My eyes traced the soft sliding indentation of her back, as it rode down to her turquoise panties. And for one unmoving second, Ally turned, her breast and her brown nipple catching a glimpse of me staring, drooling, and more focused than I have ever been focused on anything on the past few months.

Ally turned, caught my gaze, and I turned away. She pulled her arms into the straps of her bra and sat down in the chair next to her. I don't think she cared if she did see me staring at her undressing. Taking a bottle of lotion into her hands, she started dabbing the opening across her legs. It was my turn to shower now.

I posted one hand up on the shower wall and started lathering myself.

(to be continued)

Dreams don't Lie

The white stones were lined with green vines. The grass was that yellow green green grass that shined in the sunlight. It was one of those perfect weather days, with a slight brushstroke of clouds lightly detailing the sky. I took my duffel bag and threw up across my shoulder to meet our new cross country team. I must've said something stupid because when we were in the pool, everyone was looking at me as if they wished I wasn't alive. I didn't sleep to well in the dorms that night.

I woke up and walked out the school to meet my team. I was supposed to be the captain, but no one liked me. As I walked I stared at the golden lights on the white branch trees. I stared at them from below, as if I was actually crawling instead of walking. I walked over the stone bridge, the greenery hanging over the ledge, an almost dried up creek streaming minimally under it. I could see my team. I didn't want to hang around with them. I was the captain.

I could see the other people in a circle up on the other side of the bridge. I knew they were talking about me. I knew it. I walked up to all of them. One thing happened and I was yelling at one person. One Asian, fat, pathetic person, and he looked at me with shifty unconcerned eyes and said, "I don't want to talk to you." They walked. I stood on the bridge alone.

I sat in class, my thoughts ripping my from the inside. I sat in class, looked at my binder paper and looked up. The trees hung loosely on the windows, and I could see the sun, the sky, the grass. Ethan, my best friend, left weeks ago. He doesn't come to class anymore. I wanted more people to respect him leaving. I wanted them to understand he was a good person.

Our teacher walked around with a copy of one of Ethan's writing. Today, we were going to talk about what Ethan did wrong. Why Ethan's a horrible person, and mock him so we could all feel better about ourselves. I saw the piece of paper on crumbled and straightened binder paper. His writing incredibly crooked leaning to the left. Every letter sung off the binder rulings and made me little inside.

Yesterday I was disrespectful. I woke up today thinking I could be a different person. I woke up today knowing that the problem was inside me, and everyone was standing on the side watching. Today, with Ethan's piece of binder paper held up in front of my face by the teacher, I'm lost.

"What the fuck is this, who the fuck do you think you are. You're mocking my best friend. You're mocking my bestfriend."

The teacher looked at me with a courageous smile, "Aren't you the one who said we should remember him."

I could feel my face. I was defeated. I failed at doing everything I've ever tried to accomplish and everything I've ever accepted myself as. I couldn't be team captain, I couldn't be part of my family, I couldn't be anyone. In a world filled with wrong people, all I could be is honest with myself. All I could be is the worst.

My classmate looked up at me, "Who's Ethan?" he said with a puzzled special reprimand.

"HE'S IN JAIL! HE RAPED SOMEONE, AND HE'S IN JAIL!" I yelled as I started crying, "WHAT DO YOU WANT! DOES THIS MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER! KNOWING THAT YOU'RE BETTER, is that what you want. Because we're not better. You've made us this way. What do you want from us! WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

I sat in my seat and felt my stomach thin. I couldn't stop shaking as I put my arms crossed on the table and started crying. I could feel the shear warmth of my tears slide over my arms and onto my desk. I could feel the heat from my shoulders perspire through my cotton shirt. I could feel myself release.

The teacher left. A girl in front of me turned around, and said, "fucking jon! fuckin tornado."

Stop it. Just stop.

"What's your problem."

Stop. Just please stop.

"No, seriously! Why are you acting like this???"

Just STOP!

I could feel my body unravel the seat, my hands wrapped around the face of the person next to me. "What do you want! WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME!"

A boy from the back row spoke from where he sat, "What are you talking about? You're the problem."

"You want a fucking problem, you want a fucking problem! I'll show you a fucking problem." I took someone's milky drink and threw it across the room, landing it on some bald small chinese kid I didn't care for. "I don't even know him. I'll hurt everyone. I will kill everyone! I'll show you a fucking plague."

I threw the boy that was standing in my way down and left. The sunlight and trees breathing through an open door. I walked over the dirt floor, the grass patches randomly somewhere beneath my shoes, over to the cliff. Next to the opening of the cliff were houses. To stand on the roof of a house was only a small hop away. I wanted to hide somewhere and there was a small space between the dirt wall and the house, where I wanted to sit.

I stepped down and crawled further. And then I couldn't move. I was stuck. I looked up, waiting yet to panic. I stared above ground to see the wall of a building. I continued to try to climb out and it wasn't working. A tiny girl, a child, walked passed the wall and I could see her. Her small innocent complexion and her hair rapped into a small bun.

"Oh, you're stuck here because you held yourself hostage," she said her words speaking proclaiming truths. I am stuck. I am stuck.

Ethan's mom walked out the wall with joy blanketing her face. I pulled myself out, patted the dirt off my knees, and stood above ground. Ethan's mom brought me someone to talk to. He walked passed the wall, and I could see him. He wasn't Ethan's dad. He wasn't anyone I knew. I looked at his face and figured he looked trust worthy. I watched them walk towards me.

"I need help," I said. I need help.

* * * * *

I woke up, dark in my room. I could hear my brother yelling at my mom again.

Home

I remember when we use to look up to people as if they always knew all the right answers.

I came home today. I wish I put a lock on my door. I could see the light on in the room.

A quick whiff of air and I could feel cigarette smoke reach the back of my throat. An old mattress. McDonalds paper bags. Puff jackets. The television propped up on a dressing cabinet. My computer moved on the floor. Dirt ripped all over the floor. My brother stood in the middle of the room, while his pregnant girlfriend and some stranger sat on my bed.

"Just chill."
"Get the fuck out!"

I could hear my mom coming, the door creaked open but stopped midway due to clutter. "Jaype, hold on. Just hold on," she said with her overused desperate tone, I've heard so many times before. "This is just temporary."

"No! Who the fuck said you could put this fucking shit in my room. I leave for fucking two days, and you guys move your shit in like I don't even live here," I said. I could see my mom's face so close to mine. I could feel the tense skin on everyone's forehead.

My mom took me out of the room, my room, and told me that my sister had just moved in because she needed to evacuate her apartment immediately. I looked around the living room. My niece's 3 year old toys filled the space between me and the kitchen wall. Plastic containers filled with clothes, teddy bears, her Little Eisteins Drum kit, a broken home without walls stood between me and the television set. I could hear my brother's random stranger friend head for the front door and leave. My brother and his girlfriend wrapped the hallways and ran up the stairs to their room.

I could see my mom's whimpering eyes, I was killing her inside. "It's too hard, It's too hard already."

I went back into my room, slightly unzipped the zipper of the mattress and pulled it by both sides. My brother's 2 radios, 6 jackets in a pile, electric drill, every single thing I could grab; I took and threw it out on the street. The box full of papers, the bag of trailmix, his pair of sweats. All of it. It's on the street. I could feel the grasp of thick broken horded air gripping my throat. I'm home. This is home.

I left at 4pm on Thursday evening.

I could feel my face breathing behind my eyes.

I wonder if people really know how hard life can be.

Well I'm off to have organized sex with the girl I'm dating. I won't be back until Friday night.

Sometimes you could look in the mirror and you could see the monster that everyone else sees.

Sometimes you could look in the mirror and just forget.

Everyone's looking for an excuse.




It's as simple as static.

Band of Horses

No ones gonna love you, by Band of Horses.

It hurts to listen to it. It's like the whole world freezes the skin around me and the past just comes rolling back in.

I have nightmares to this song.

I was coming back from Clearlake with my best friend.

This was the third track on a burnt C.D.

I could still feel the introductory riff.

I stood in front of her work to meet her.

. . . It must be over half a year when she left.

The Pain of Beautiful Women

A pretty girl added me on 20sb a few days ago and everything turned into middle school all over again. It doesn't matter that she lives all across the universe, I still drool looking at her default pic, and I'm just trapped wrapped in her idea.

But, after long endless enduring exaggerated hours staring at her picture, I, somehow, want to do my laundry. I want to follow up my applications and shave my face. I wonder if what I said to her is too aggressive, I wonder if I fucked up, even though it doesn't matter, it still bends me backwards.

I wonder if I'm align with everything she ever wanted even though, she's not even real.

People always come back to Assholes

Notice who messaged who.

Dora
hey. Long time, what r u up to/

1:59amMe
you have skype

2:04amDora
no I dont have skype yet. I have skype name but no number

2:04amMe
you have vid chat

2:04amDora
no I dont have an video, nly email and chat

2:05amMe
im tired
imma go to sleep
nite!

2:06amDora
good night chico

10:50pmDora is offline.

It's like this with one other person, Jennifer. Every time Jennifer IM's me or texts me something, she's always asking to hang out. I ignore her, tell her I'm busy, and she writes crap on my facebook wall.

There must be a formula to consistently create this want that girl's have for assholes. There's gotta be a way to replicate it.

Just some tweaking

Yesterday
5:33pmMe
hey could you do me a favor

5:33pmStephanie
.....?
depends

5:33pmMe
i can't find my phone could you call it

5:34pmStephanie
lolol

5:34pmMe
shut up, it's an epidemic
no but seriously

5:34pmStephanie
callinggggg

5:34pmMe
no you're calling the wrong number
i got a new phone

5:34pmStephanie
well then....

5:34pmMe
#######

5:37pmMe
tell me when you're calling it
i don't wanna look like an idiot trying to find a noise that ain't noising up

5:37pmStephanie
i was but it went starught to voicemail

5:38pmMe
hold up

5:39pmStephanie
?
when are we hanging out ?

(IOI)

(I should've said something along the lines of hanging out. More like the lines of how busy I was and just got back from Vegas. Totally would've DHV'd myself.)

5:39pmMe
i just got the phone
### ### ####
try that one

5:40pmStephanie
calling

5:42pmMe
i mean please try that one
do you have skype i said

5:42pmStephanie
well im at my sisters house using her laptop it has a camera but were going to finish doing my hair in a sec.

5:43pmMe
the pink panther hair
:P:P

5:44pmStephanie
yup... im adding extensions

5:45pmMe
sounds uber awesome
did you know the black lagoon was originally filmed in 3D
in the 50's

(This is me trying to connect with a hipster chick)

5:47pmStephanie
never seen it

(This is me failing to connect with a hipster chick)

5:48pmMe
it's one of those movies you hear about all the time that no one's ever seen
like the first vampire movie, nos feratu
(spelling sucks)

5:50pmStephanie
lol
i just saw Silence Of The Lambs for the first time yesterday

5:50pmMe
never seen it
i can't handle that strange creeper bullshit
like SAW and hostel
if it's mystical like statues running around or certain dolls then im almost always down

5:51pmStephanie
what !
i love scary movies
(This is where I find out that my first instinct was correct but now it's just major fail)

5:51pmMe
well the first saw was pretty good

5:52pmStephanie
Silence of the lambs is HELLA AWESOME !

5:52pmMe
like that ending was totally ba
i don't take lightly to all caps
:(:(

5:52pmStephanie
im excited to watch Red Dragon and Hanabal
thats some sad OCD

5:52pmMe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLrP1cpAjTg
(This is me being an idiot, I should stop sending people youtube videos online. It's very needy)
lol people are funny
have you watched hannibal rising?
that movie sucked

(realizing she's afk, and probably not going to come back because she's getting her extensions done)

6:05pmMe
hey i gotta go, but i just got back from vegas and I got hella shit to do now
ill give you a call some time tho
later!

Today
8:38pmStephanie is offline.

Yeah, that's funny. It's also funny when everyone makes fun of the poor kid and he kills all your classmates and their parents have to pick up pieces of their body

Q&A continued

Man, let me thank you for the efforts you put to answer my question, what you shared with me is gold and the way you went through was just smooth the same as the game should be easy and smooth....

Well, let me update about what happened with this girl before I recieved your answer today.......

.What I did last week was not to ignore her, just got interested in what she was up to recently and she opened up again. I kept the conversation fun and playful some teasing mixed with Kino ( shoulders for attention, her belly to check whether she's fit which was fun also ).
I went out with her after work for a walk, there were positive emotions and finished our meeting with a hug since hug is not common for her as she a japanese girl.( I thought that was a big step forward to show her I m different from the other men she talks to where touching is kind of unusual)
And believe me man, the next day she was chasing me everywhere in my workplace, she managed even to take her break in the same time as mine just to have a conversation with me...the power of the PUSH PULL is extraoridnary, she just wanted more and more of those positive emotions and Touch that she doesnt get often from the other men.......
I m just thinking the next time i m meeting her i m gonna go for the kiss ? what do you think Trigger ? and how to go for it in a smooth way coz she's not from the western culture ? (are women all the same ?)
Thanks my friend for your useful information that i ll definetely apply with her.



Contrary to popular belief, Asian girls aren't that hard unless they're like really really Asian. If they're americanized, they're americanized, so you shouldn't put too much thought into that bubble.

It seems like you have enough attraction to go into qualification. Make sure you go into qualification, it just makes everything tighter. It's like locking in a missile, you could shoot missiles in front of you, but it's best to lock it in.

- Good luck man

Q&A

Hello Mr Trigger,
your posts adn threads are gems on this forum, your words are very wise and mature..cheers for sharing your knoweldge.
My question today is :
I know this girl who i ran attraction, comfort and seduction on her physically escalated except the kiss and the f close....haven't fallen in the friend zone though as she tries everyday to make me jealous by chatting to an AFC guy at work and it's so obvious that she is forcing it and i just keep ignoring her....the thing is I want to reconnect with her and this time fucking escalate to the top. what,s the best way to get her back since there is a huge tension between us ??????

Thanks in advance for answering
****

Well first off, you can't do much at work except be a very outstanding employee. Okay, honestly, if this wasn't a perfect world, what I would do on a whim would build a huge social circle with my employees and tell everyone that she's a ho. Better yet, just talk about her. I was just kidding with the whole calling her a ho thing.

I don't know the first thing about attracting an employee. I really don't. It's something that has to do with body language and being DHV'd by other people.

Y'know what scratch all that. (This is how my brain works)

Whatever you think seduction is, is wrong. The seduction term by the MM complex, is everything beyond kissing. Everything from getting naked in bed, and sex and more sex, that's seduction. You sir, are not even close.

You are stuck in attraction.

How do you know, because the girl that you are talking about is still in push pull technique area by trying to make you jealous. She's still trying to convey that she is better than you, and right now she is.

(Lemme take a few minutes to think about what you can do)

So first off, you DO want to ignore the fact that she's flirting with AFC bob over there, but what you don't want to do is ignore her. Once you do that, you convey that you're frustrated. Although, you do want to start conversation with her, make sure the conversation is about you. I know cruel, but if you think about it, a lot of people are just waiting for their turn in a conversation.

Now, since you did a bunch of things, you need to start building stuff along the lines of values.

Like tell her about how you revisited grandma for the weekend and how you’ve started noticing a need to be there for family. As if people as a whole, aren’t mature enough to appreciate their family when they’re younger, but now that we’re older were mature enough to provide them our sensible kindness.
Boom attraction switch!

Tell her about the classes your thinking about taking in the fall semester. Or if you’re thinking about going to college. Talk about classes you’d like to take and their pros, not their cons. If she agrees or recommends a class, say, that sounds cool, and that you might have to try it out.
Intellegence. Boom attraction switch.

This is where, no matter what, talking to a wide variety of girls will not only help your game, it’ll also help the set that you’re in. Tell her about the girls that are in line to sit on your dick (I don’t use this tone like ever, I’m just using it as a sales pitch, not that I’m selling anything, I’m just making it more appealing so you’ll build a more vibrant self confidence)
Convey to her that other women are waiting and that you can’t wait forever.
Boom attraction switch.

Tell her your friends are trying to hook you up.
Social intuition. Boom attraction switch.

Tell her that the girl’s a sweet girl, but you need a girl that you could argue with. Tell her that you need a girl you can argue with.
Tell her that there’s a girl that been trying to talk to you for awhile, but she’s one of those super hot chicks that gets whatever she wants all the time.

This could humble her.


Talk about how you're planning to go backpacking in New Zealand with as little money as possible and how your friends tell you you could work in apple fields and how you yearn for adventure.

Then you could scrape that all up, build up your confidence, make her feel like she's in the reach of a real man. Then tell her that when you first met her, you thought she was really into herself and only talked about things she liked, and that you suddenly realize that she's a great listener, and that she has a great balance between a sense of humor and sophistication. Then you drop the end all to take all line. "You're really different from a lot of women, you don't find that combination too often."

AND BOOM! You've just accomplished qualification.

From that point you've basically pointed out that you could or want to fall madly in love with her, and from this point on, no matter what you do, you can't help getting close to her and keeping that sacred bond and connection. If you ask for her number, if you ask her out, assuming you know how to ask someone out, it'll all be in good faith. It'll all be because you can't help yourself, and she'll understand that. (Don't ask her out right away, let the tension build up even more, and if she shows you IOI's your clear for a number close, but if not, you've just given her a compliment that'll blow her mind but maybe it's just came out flat)

And if she rejects you, you did do everything perfectly. She probably thinks your butt ugly, and you have to move on. No offense.

Remember, or hint; the proper way to ask a girl out is to ask if she wants to hang out, not go on a date. Then you go into frame shifting, and bouncing, and logistics, where you can actually pull out a lot more good valuable kino, which is waaaay before seduction. So trust me, you got a ways to go kid, before you can actually say that you're in seduction with anyone.

Another thing you have to look into is that this whole work thing is an obstacle you have to overcome. How? I don't know. And you got to make sure you're cool with your employees build a rapport. Listen to them attentively, don't be a douche and just talk about yourself all the time.

that's it for now, feel free to ask.

-Trig

Thieves

Thieves are the reason karma exist

The Club

Me

yo i got your message on skype

you on skype

7:17am Aiden

yeah, i am learning to use it

7:17amMe

oh

thats cool

you ever get deleted by someone on facebook


7:18amAiden

mi sure i have

7:18amMe

you sound so confidant about it

7:19am Aiden

well, i think i have been , there are times when the number of friends on facebook doesnt look the same, or i look for someone on my list and they arent there anymore, not a big deal

7:21am Me

im adding they're friends

and im going to find out how many of them i could have sex with

7:23am Aiden

you are adding who's friends ? why would you tell me something like that ? it makes you sound like an ass

7:23am Me

it makes me sound relative

7:23am Aiden

no trust me, sound like an ass

7:23am Me

dont you hate being the butt of everyone's jokes

like i doing this thing yesterday

well

okay so

this guy put up this thread on a forum about how he needs help with a dating profile

i gave him my help

and he didn't like me period and said he wouldn't ever take advice from me

and i told him he needs to cheer up and stop acting like an ass to people

then he put this long and heartfelt message about people like me

and as a final rebuttal i told him how everything he believes is stupid and wrong

you know what he did

he closed the thread

you know i did

i copy and pasted every single thing on that thread and started my own thread

and yeah, i looked like an asshole

but you know what, im proud i did it

because i stood up for myself

the end

sorry disconnect

7:28am Abel

so, , , what does this have to do with being deleted by someon on facebook, or trying to play mac ?

7:28amMe

play mac?

7:29amAbel

trying to see how many people you want to have sex with

7:31amMe

oh

it doesn't matter

7:33amAbel

you know, the last few discussions we have had have really been dissapointing, your character has changed,

honestly , lacking depth

7:36amMe

i know

i kinda figured

what was i like before

7:37amAbel

more genuine

more sincerity

classy

7:38amMe

classy?

really?

7:38amAbel

yes

(I laughed behind my computer)

7:51amMe

i need a job
7:52amAbel

me too
7:52amMe

really??

where do you work now?
7:52amAbel

i dont
7:52amMe

really?

join the club

People who delete me on facebook

For every person I find on facebook that deletes me, consider all your friends banged.

Typing's Overrated

Jen

my lesbian friend is doing a dance prty in haight friday if u wanna come

1:15amMe

maybe

what are you up to

1:15amJen

set a curfew

got home 2 minutes before.

in bed. naked.

1:15amMe

cute

why don't you put some clothes on and talk to me skpe

1:19amJen

i don't have skupe

1:19amMe

that sucks

you got a webcam, it's like the new thing

typing is overrated

1:20amJen

i have a webcam

i'm just drunka nd don't have skype and work ehlla early

1:20amMe

cute

well im gunna go watch stephen king movies

ill ttyl

1:23amJen is offline.

Letter of Perspective

I get a lot of these letters, a lot, so I wouldn't be posting this letter up if I didn't think it was different. I'm going to leave this anonymous not because I don't want to give him credit, but because we're an underground society, in where none of us get credit:

i remember once i bashed on you for preferring what i call p.e.e.b. (predominantly european ethnic based) girls over other types. thought you were biased and superficial. i found your blog and have to say that i was wrong about my initial impression of you.

i do hope that doing this, pick up will make you happy and fulfilled. people say that "it is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all" and from what you write about, it seems like for almost all the girls you meet, they are like passing ships in the night. none seem to ever stick around, but come into your life, but leave just as quickly.

you are very good with cold approach where you can spike up their emotions, and get them to feel really good. you tease, and do push pull well, and genuinely like these girls you meet.

your stories on how you generate attraction so quickly is unbelievable. i don't know how you do it but it is insane. my material now is a mixture of sinn's stuff, afc adam, and soul's stuff. going direct, escalating as fast as possible. and try to create a really fast whirlwind romance.

my story is typical. i am 25 now. i am east asian, like so many of my pua brothers. i learned about the game when i was 24, and still a virgin. i had only kissed one girl before that time, and she was my cousin :(. i never had a girlfriend before but things have changed. got the numbers, got the kisses, got the make outs, got laid, got a girlfriend, got into a relationship. but they all have passed and i am back where i started.

i personally these days feel burned out by the game. i wish it would stop.

i keep on hearing about childhood friends and acquaintances getting married, getting engaged, having kids and moving on, moving forward with their life and i feel like i am left behind. my professional life is hurting as i try to go back to school. i have been laid off for more than a year but do make money in a few ways. i find that my social life has completely shrunk and my old friends don't want to hang out with me anymore.

do you ever follow this blog?

http://******.wordpress.com/

it is really good. right along with sinn's and entropy's stuff.

how do you not get burned out by game? i know that most of the reason why i feel burned out is because i feel like a failure in every area of my life, professional, health wise, socially, relationship wise, financially.

the times when the girl won't say yes even after she says that she is single. when they are laughing and enjoying being with you but they still have a boyfriend and are faithful to him.

i hate to admit but that old saying "all the good ones are taken" feels so god damn true. because anytime a true 9 or 10 of a girl ends a relationship, there are like 20 guys she knows who will try to swoop in to be with her.

i have approaches about 500-700 girls and every time i find a 10, she is always taken. i am just willing to accept a 8 right now if she is willing to accept me.

i hate the game, the way it is set up, the way life works out. i missed out on so much back in school, back when i was younger. i feel like i have to try so much harder to overcompensate for all of the underachievements i have incurred in my life, for all of the missed chances, all of the what ifs that i keep replaying as a simulation over and over again in my head.

i love the interaction when i first meet the girl, i love watching that sparkle of attraction in their eye, i love the banter and the closeness she and i share when a real true connection is made. i love the smell of the girl's hair, the soft gentle tender touches by her hands, the look of happiness the girls project when they realize that you genuinely cares about them. but the pain, the heart piercing pain, i just can't take. every time a girl says bye, everytime she says that there is no spark, i feel that pain. everytime the girl says that she is not ready, every time that the girl says that she and i are at different place in our lives, every time that the girl says that she still wants to be friends but only to eventually say that she doesn't even want that.

i want the perpetual torment of loneliness to stop.

i hate the fact that my old iranian coworker who refused to give me the time of day would head over hells for my peeb guy friend. i didn't even though about anything race and relationships until i was 21. i didn't know how bad so many other guys like me had it, but i was ignorant of it. i was stuck in my own world living in a fantasy but not i see how it is. and it sucks.

i am depressed at my life but i am not crazy. i know my limits and won't try something stupid.

so how do you do it, constantly go after girls knowing that she probably will not want to be with you or stay around?

thanks.


To Anonymous:

I honestly don't know. I haven't cried yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if that one day I did. It's hard dealing with failure. It's just really hard. I'm in the same boat as you, and that's about it.

Everything that you've said, sounds about right.

King Queen Offsuit

Yesterday

8:32pm: Me
y is everyone online on this fabulous saturday evening?

8:32pm: Kristí
you are t oo

8:33pm: Me
i know
it's a facebook party
could i get you a facebook drink
im pretty sure they have them somewhere here

8:33pm: Kristí
most likely

8:34pm: Me
i keep getting low pair in poker
its not exactly my luck
but my negative thinking is gunna make me lose the game

8:35pm: Kristí
oh

8:35pm: Me
yeah
what are you doing
i could go to marin right now and party
but that would cost me 20 buckanos

8:35pm: Kristí
ew why

8:35pm: Me
it's marin
i live in san mateo
i like kittens
i really really like kittens

ok im going all in with king queen off suit
and lost

8:39pm: Kristí
no idea what that means

8:39pm: Me
it's like algebra
but with a moveable x variable
it's like trying to guess where a certain species of frog is in the northern coast of south america
it's constantly changing

8:43pm: Kristí
man you're intense
do you like the military?

8:44pm: Me
why

. . .are you asking such marvelous questions

8:45pm: Kristí
i dunno

8:45pm: Me
do you think im a mercenery
with hard boiled abs

8:46pm: Kristí
no

8:46pm: Me
do you like hard boiled eggs

8:47pm: Kristí
on occasion

8:47pm: Me
do you like deeep fried

8:48pm: Kristí
deep fried hard boiled eggs?

8:48pm: Me
really deep

fried eggs

8:49pm: Kristí
wow

8:49pm: Me
i like them wet

like not all the way cooked

8:50pm: Kristí
ill go for scrammbled

8:50pm: Me
you like them beaten

8:51pm: Kristí

uh huh

8:51pm: Me

liked whipped almost

8:51pm: Kristí

hey is this conversation getting sexual

8:51pm: Me

no

if anything

it's getting very not sexual

like farm things

8:52pm: Kristí

yeah

whipped beaten i just.....i think....... idunno

8:53pm: Me

and

you like your sex whipped and beaten
oh no kristi we cant have that now

8:53pm: Kristí
hey im a virgin

8:54pmMe

ummm

you like to be whipped

like in an encouter with punishment

:\:\

8:54pmKristí
no

8:55pmMe

i prefer my eggs sexy

8:56pmKristí

with butter

8:57pmMe

i could image you with butter

cooking eggs

with half and half

and a whisk


Kristi is offline

Calling People Douchebags.

Calling one of your friends douchebags desensatizes you from being a douchebag. Seriously. It's cool.

I watched The Hangover yesterday; it's hilarious, everyone knows that. But I was watching the trailer and my favorite part, where they part in front of the house in the background of the scene, Bradley Cooper yells, "Paging Doctor Faggot! Paging Doctor Faggot!" The thing is, if you watch the trailer they only use the word, "Paging Doctor Douchebag." Which is cool, but it gets you thinking.

A year or so ago I was listening to podcasts by Brad P, a PUA who took Brad Pitt's name and initial. Before I move forward, Brad P did that because when he introduced himself to other people he would say Brad, shake, and then Pitt for accelerated momentum of humor. I use to say my name's Stephanie. Anyways, Brad P was talking about Creepyville, the opposite of the Friendzone. He said the way to avoid creepyville is to talk about creepers. When you talk about "other" creepy people to your target she'll understand that you have some type of common sense. It's kind of like putting down your friends, or bashing on them, which is smart. It shows a more dominant playfulness when you can do that to other people.

When Bradley Cooper yells from his car, "Paging Doctor Faggot," or "Douchebag," or whatever, it doesn't seem all that mature. In fact, the stuck up chick in the scene is irritated. However, the total truth about it, is that the girl in the scene is annoyed, but everyone in the theatre, on their couch, in front of the computer, is laughing.

Humor is attractive.

. . .Dominance is attractive.

. . . . . . Put down your friends.

It's fun.

Half Eaten Bites of Cake

I scanned the sink. Half eaten bites of cake, empty cans of Tecate and brown bottles of beer surrounded the counter tops. I looked through the cupboards, no cups. It’s 3am at Allison’s birthday party and I’m thirsty. The alcohol in my system has diminished bringing me down to normal less reckless speed, and I’m thirsty. The chocolate birthday cake lay eaten bare handed by so many people that it looks like a meteor blew right through the center leaving little bits of cake debris falling everywhere around it. I’m not that hungry.

Allison, one of the other Allison's at the party walked into the kitchen. She walked passed me and smiled. She’s a small pale skinned brunette, with a tight angled European nose and small lips. She opened the refrigerator door, knelt down to the bottom shelf, and searched.

She looked up at me and smiled. “Hi I’m Allison,” she said.

* * * * * *

It was only last week when I first met Allison.

It was the July 4th party at the other house. I had just made out with Nicole, and I felt cheap. I was having a good time, introducing myself to everywhere. A funny witty remark here and there. Even a game of chicken where I slipped my head in between the legs of my new friendly acquaintance Camille and lifted her up on my shoulders. Then came Nicole. In a dark room, with the thumping beats of dance music. I haven’t even spoke to her yet. I took behind her as she stretched her neck out in front me. My friend’s were happy for me. They snuck in and out of the entrance of the room, smirking and pointing. I felt cheap.

Nicole had her head nestled into the chest of another guy where Allison was sitting. I put my arm and coat around Allison as we talked about break ups, ex’s, and a whole world of being single. I could hear Nicole making out with someone else.
After Allison went back into the house, I chatted a bit. When I came back in went into a room where everyone was sleeping and softly picked chords on the guitar. My friend opened the door to find me sitting on the floor.
“Hey don’t flirt with Allison, she got really freaked out by you.”

* * * * *

I shook Allison’s hand as she knelt by the refrigerator, “I’m Jon,” I said even though this was the second time.
“Haven’t we met,” she said, “You were the one with the red sweater at the July 4th party.”
“Oh, you mean the one who you got totally freaked out about and told my friend I shouldn’t talk to you anymore,” I said in a jolly good hearted tone.
Her face crashed into embarrassment.
“Oh, I’m sorry," she whimpered, "I didn’t mean that about you, I was just on edge because this other guy was flirting with me the whole time. Like there’s this guy right now who actually just asked me out outside.”
“Wow, sounds creepy.”
“Yeah, this pasty short white kid that I didn’t even know me, wanted to go out with me, it’s just really creepy.”
She brought up why she was on edge last week. How Nicole was making out with the guy she wanted to hook up with. I told her about my little shenanigan with Nicole, and we talked for a moment. It was a comforting moment, even as far as an apologetic moment.

I spent the rest of the night talking to the birthday about everything in life. She had a girlfriend. She was a lesbian, and her girlfriend was there, so it was all in good play. I slept there, woke up, talked for a bit, laughed, and left.

Happiness

Athena.

Athena. I had a job at a hotel restaurant. Not a big one, and for the most part I was the only server. It was month later, and my supervisor wouldn't give me my god damn tip ticket, so I could get tips. 1 month. It takes about a week, and my stupid Hindu accented, stuck up in his imaginary palace, was the all knowing all dancing fucknut who just wouldn't give me my ticket. The job wasn't hard. And for someone to tell me that I couldn't to an easy job, was total bullshit.

I sat in my car, after one of the cooks, a swedish tall guy just wouldn't stop yelling at me because I couldn't grab a piece of wax paper that was stuck to another piece of wax paper. I cried. Athena was on the other line as I cried. I told her God doesn't like me, that I just could not get a break, that he's keeping me from doing anything. It doesn't matter how long and how hopeful I was in the church. I was still a monster. I cried. Maybe you should be nicer to people, she said.

* * * * *

Tonight, I stood idle while my brother pushed his girlfriend around in the living room. The minute I saw his arm cock back I jumped up, but he dropped it. I stood there doing nothing, standing with my arms crossed in the dark. I was eating chicken at the dining room table awhile later, just watching him yell, and criticize, and verbally hurt his girlfriend, hugging her tightly as she cried so that she couldn't get away. And tell the cops.

I just wanted to go back to playing guitar. I didn't do anything, just watched and waited for him to hit her. Why not stop it? Why not call the cops? Because he's my brother, and she chose to be here with him. This isn't the first time, this is just part of a long line of events that both have to do with stupid people. I could fight him off, I could fight him off every time. But, I'm not willing to do that if she comes back the day after. It's stupid. I can't help but wonder though, how much of the stupidity runs in our family.

I'm not a violent person. Yeah, I thought seriously about killing hundreds of children in my middle school. I was the poor kid. I was also 12. A lot happened since middle school. But, still, as the reverberation of my brother yelling strung deep into my ears, I just wonder how much of that violence is still in me.

I'm scared for me. I'm scared for the women that surround me. Why do people fight? Argue? Run away? The people on the forum say I can't live by my past, that I have to move forward. They also say if I convey these tendencies, it'll turn off women. I'm not a monster. As much as God, church, friends, and family want me to be, I'm not. I should write it in big letters across my walls.

Why do they deserve happiness, and I don't.

Minx is in a relationship....

It strikes a chord that breaks your veins and makes you weak. That title. She's in a relationship now, probably won't be single for another year or two. It's best that I just forget about her, maybe delete her off of facebook. Stupid facebook, keeping me in touch with everything that I've made contact with. Stupid facebook.

Does my mom need to cry?

My mom's old. She's married to a hard worked husband, and 6 children, half of which aren't doing so well; me included. My mother and I had an argument in where she was at fault. This problem that occured, it's a continuous dilemma, and she knows she's at fault. I was yelling at her. You know that time where you when you tell someone to do something, and then you tell them to do something, and then you tell them and tell them, and yet they manage to cut through the 4 minutes your not looking, and do exactly the opposite of what you've spent your life hoping would get through her head. After the problem was resolved, I felt that tension, that uneasy oxygen. I walked over to my mom and wrapped my arms around her. I told her I was sorry for yelling, and that I don't want to have to act like that. But then, she started pretending to cry.

I'm 23 years old. I've seen the act so many times I'm desanitized. My brother walks into the door practically everyday and just yells at my mom. No reason needed, just yelling. Stupid stuff like why isn't there specifically any coral calcium in the cabinets. He's 32. He's also been in and out of jail since he was in high school. He's the result of too much exposure to crystal meth. Drugs like crystal meth kill off your brain cells, and fuck with your emotions. Moodswings, bipolarity, violence, and most importantly, the suffocating yearning to feel wanted. Everyday my mom's awake and my brother's in the same room, it's the same argument. If my mom's asleep, I've witnessed him banging on my parents bedroom door, just so he could criticize, "their way of life." However, when it comes to me, I wrap my arms around my mom, feel the shaking insides belting out, and feel her "trying" to cry. Forcing herself to cry. As if this is her moment to shine on her annual stage.

I told her stop. Told her to stop pretending. I know she bottles all of this emotion up, but does she need to cry. Is that healthy? Is that really what you're supposed to do with all those emotions? Isn't there a healthy less sacrificial way to perspire all this stuff? Can't we just fly kites. That's my question.


The problem had to do with laundry. My mom touched my laundry. A lot of people wouldn't understand my disattachment of my laundry to my mother. But my mom's a horder. She hordes things. She hordes garbage. She hordes other people's garbage. The path from her bedroom door to the bed, is a narrow squeeze between 10 gallon garbage bags and take home plastic bags from Safeway. Within minutes my one load of laundry, all the clothes I have, were in 7 different piles hidden in her room. My mom loves laundry. My mom loves to help.

Originally written for www.20sb.net, July 19th 2010.

Masterpiece Theatre: Weird Nerdy Girl

-Sorry about the old material, I just got a computer and just got settled in. I'm bringing in some classic Trig for your enjoyment, so enjoy dammit! -Trig




(Written 7-13-2009)

So I went to the nearest mall yesterday and decided to work on going direct. I haven’t gone direct, and it sucks because it seems like the really good looking guys use direct openers, and for some reason I don’t. I’m a good looking guy, I’ll just plain come out and say it; I’m good looking.

I just got some inspiration from another PUA by reading his field report. In his field report he goes direct, and everything else smoothly masterpieces itself itself together. So I went to the mall with the aim for going direct.

I got to the bookstore, saw a friend, didn’t see any targets.(there usually isn’t anyone sarge worthy locally) A friend pointed me out, so I talked for a bit, seemed like an ass, and left. She didn’t care. Everyone who puts up with me already realizes that my human nature is asshole-ish. It’s not. But I wouldn’t tell them either way, I like the freedom to say bullshit and then blow people’s minds with ethical philosophy.

Anyways, back to the story.
I ended up sitting with that friend girl, and I saw this one asian chick, HB>7, and I thought okay I’ll sarge her, and see where it goes. I get up, she turns into the magazine section, and I lose her. Freak’n 50 yards away, and I lose contact. Damn.
I end up walking around the fiction area, and a random girl wearing a skimpy skirt and black stockings passes behind me. I barely catch her face. I could see her body posture. Slouchy. Hands dangling in front like a T-Rex. Glasses. Mad scientist projected personality.

I didn’t see her face, but I already knew she was a total nerd.
This morning when I saw the field report, and the picture that was in it, I realized something. I should stop trying to pick up weird girls, nerd girls, and girls with very limited social ability. Every time I pick up an HB8 and up, everything runs smooth. Too bad, locally, we don’t get much of those. I’m just getting into bars now.

Anyways, back to the story.
I hover behind a book aisle maybe 2 aisles away from her. I fucked up the 3 second rule, so now I’m behind her silently mouthing what a direct opener sound like, y’know, vocally. I’ve moved up from opinion openers, to perching myself on situational openers. Direct openers, were way out of my inventory.

I come up to her, pass her aisle frantically, and come back.
Fuck the direct opener! She’s a nerd, I don’t think she’ll buy it either way.
I come up to her. Don’t touch her. And game begins.

Trig: Hey are you an art student? (3 feet away)
HB: . . . . . (obviously flabbergasted)
Trig: Yeah, you kind of have this whole art thing going on. Are you an Art student.
HB: Well I’m an art student, but I’m not an Art student per say.
Trig: So you go to Academy of Art?
HB: No. (She talks in slow stretched out segments) I actually go to a community college.
Trig: Cool! (I could feel the foreplay of silence overbearing on my shoulders) Yeah, I just saw you from over there, and I thought you were cute so I totally had to talk to you.
HB: . . . . (awkward. Anyways it could’ve been my hypothesis, or could have been my deliver, either way, it was not amusing.)
Trig: So what are you doing here.
HB: Well I came here to look at books.
Trig: So you’re really big on books (At this point, I understand that my nature melted down to asking rather consecutive screening questions. I use to be so much better.)
HB: Well no, I don’t usually go to bookstores, but I actually went to Borders already.
Trig: Hold on, you’re a Capricorn aren’t you.
HB: Why do would you say that?

Then I splurge into a shitload of routines. None of them work.

Some examples:

Me: Pick a number between 1 and 10.
HB: I don’t want to.

Me: Let me see your hand. (Palm reading) Okay so this is.
HB: No (Takes hand away.)

Me: Okay, so Imagine yourself in a strawberry field.
HB: I don’t like strawberries.

NOTHING! NADDA! No hope what so ever.

This is what saved me. . .

Have you read this book?
Target stares at me as I pull a book off the shelves. She says she doesn’t like poetry. I pull a book by Ernest Hemingway off the shelves.
“I don’t like Ernest Hemingway,” Target says, “All his books are about the same thing; immasculated men.”

A lot more of this stuff for the next 45 minutes. A lot more books, authors, titles. Jane Austen, Brave New World, Anne Rice. She pulls out books that have everything to do with depression and severed limbo.
“Here!” I say pointing to a poetry book.
“Yeah I like John Keats.”
I feel like I’m slowly turning her page. I kinda realize, I’m constantly just pulling in a push pull objective. In other words, I’m failing miserably gamewise. But hey she isn’t HB qualified. I figure, the longer the set takes, the more underlying comfort I build anyways.
She’s a weird chick.
Weird chicks aren’t exactly game linear.

After about maybe eighty something books, she said she wants something cold. Jamba Juice. I haven’t really kino’d except for some light, very light, pressing on her epidermis (very boring touching.) I haven’t gotten a number either. I really don’t feel like pushing a number close on a girl that’s pushing away a comfort invite.
“I think I’ll go to Jamba Juice.”
I don’t reply in anyway except for trying to keep my cool.
“You could come if you’d like.”
YES! Some compliance!

As we walk out I ask her if she’s going to kidnap me. I forget what she said, but it was witty. We go to Jamba Juice.
We go to Jamba Juice, I order a sandwich wrap. And as we head back to the car, I tell her to walk over to some arbitrary tree. She shrugs restlessly. We walk to the tree. As soon as we get to the tree, she says, “Is there a reason you brought me to this tree.”

Nope. We walk back to the car. We talk for a few minutes. I find myself building some sort of comfort, its not poster comfort but it does okay. I number close her using a PUA tactic where I just pass her my phone and she’s suppose to know what to do. I get, “why are you giving me your phone?” I explain to her that the invention of the telephone was to correlate numbers with a specific code, granting me linear privilege to speak on relative terms. I tell her that I want her number, and I want it now.

We head over to a High School to walk on a trail. She’s reluctant to get out of the car. Her car. She ends up getting out. We walk into the campus first so I could use the bathroom. We walk around the school. We walk we walk. There’s a dried up creek and we walk on that. Walk walk walk.

I take a drink at the tennis court, and she waits for me.
“....Hey so are you an Art Student?” I say nostalgically playful, I could feel her find the glitch in the matrix. “Because you look like an Art Student with all the black. Yeah so, I just saw you from over there and I just couldn’t resist talking to you.”
“Repetative are we?”
“Absolutely.”
Dusk falls on top of us. We’re sitting in the car again. She says, where to now? We head over to hillsdale. We’re at another bookstore. She buys a book. We stand in line. Buys the book. And then I tell her to sit down on the café chairs for awhile. She reluctantly comes. She tells me she’d rather sit in the car, as we drive home. I’m whatever.
We get on 101 North.
This is where things get Juicy!
She asks me, so what year did you graduate from Highschool? We went to the same high school. I say, 2005.
“Oh so I was a freshmen when you were a senior.” Her.
“Yeah.” Me.
“So you know my sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nina. . .”

It takes me a second. I use to like this girl named Stacey. Stacey hung out with a girl named Nina. They were both in Drama class, for stage crew. Kate, the target, was in stage crew too. I use to hit on Nina back in highschool, way before the game, way before normalcy. Today I’m hitting on the same girl. Same blood. Different girl.
For awhile I reply with, “That’s cool.”

Then I realize something, this is the only topic where we can overlap history. Overlapping history to women, is like the color red to Tuscan bulls. It's why James Marsden loses to Ryan Gosling in The Notebook. It's the underlying tone to most greek tragedies. I expand on her sister being her sister. She doesn’t like her sister because of some random driving incident. And for a minute, I comply with her.
But Eureka moment!
Boyfriend destroyer.

I pull the boyfriend destroyer theory on the target. Instead of a boyfriend, it’s her sister. We build a lot more compliance. We finally get to the parking lot where we met so I could switch over to my car, and we end up sitting in her car for hours, and I tell her basically my life story. (I know bad. But I also know, not the usual girl)

How I met her sister. How I know Stacey. How I use to like Stacey. How everyday I wanted to blow up my middle school so parents would have to pick up pieces of their children. She gets a kick out of it, she’s a weird girl. How I joined sports. How I’m super cocky. She’s a weird girl. I go through stories and stories over stories.
Are you listening? I could leave if you want me to.
No, I’m listening. It’s fine, she says, the raw hope of a smile lining her lips.

I build a lot of kino. A lot! FYI: she has never been kissed. She’s not ugly, not ugly at all. Just hasn’t been kissed. Just weird. I start doing things like wrestling her hands Pushing her as she pushes me back. Hands intertwined. There’s a time where I actually spend like 13 minutes just caressing her ear. No talking; just quiet touching of her ear.

We argue about her smoking. I don’t smoke. We wrestle for the lighter.
A lot more other random crap happens. I try to waltz with her. It’s horrible. I force her to do a twirl, and it looks like it's breaking her arm like a pro wrestler trying to do a move.

By 11:56, she kicks me out of her car. I give her a one handed hug, and force a kiss on her cheek. Twice. She squeals disgustedly of course. As I walk I could feel the particles of moist nightly air while I watch her car skiddattle.

I'm making a comeback

HEY GUYS! Anyone miss me and my crazy antics.

Well I miss me and writing my crazy antics. I just got a computer. I just got internet availability. And woot woot!

From the forums:

(anonymous)
Anybody else notice how obscenely bizarre Tigger's life appears to be?

(also anonymous)
This sounds great
but I often wonder if your topics are actually things that happen to you
great entertainment nonetheless


------

Author: It's all real, I assure you, this isn't fictional.

umm. huh?

Apparently, there's a lot of sexy 16 year olds at the library.

I don't belong here

I'm a groupie. I know it. My friends band is bad ass, but I'm not their friend friend. I'm their groupie. I go to their shows, I went to high school with them; I'm a groupie. They don't call me on weekends, okay, sometimes they do, but they don't call me to sit around the couch because nothing else is going on. They don't talk to me about who likes who in their social circle. I'm just a guy who comes in, and watches. I don't fit in here.

On the night of my birthday, I met some really cool people from Marin when I was crashing bonfires with a friend. They had the largest bonfire, the largest group of people, and hula hoops. All I had to say was, "The police kicked us out of our bonfire, could we join yours." Then later, I told them it was my birthday and they sang the birthday song at midnight. They were open to people. They talked about broad random subjects, sex, beer, the absence of beer, work, very broad subjects. I fit in with them. I fit in because they didn't have a niche.

They had no niche, they weren't trendy, and most of all, I didn't have to fit in. It was just cool people, with cool open arms. They wore hoodies, sweatpants, and sandals. My friends at the rockshows, well they have guitars. My friends who were in cross country, they're cross country runners. I've always wondered what it'd be like to go meet up with other writers, but I lost my laptop. I wear the same thing everyday: blue jeans and a white v neck shirt. I don't have a niche. Music isn't my life. Sports was my life, but it isn't now. Church, family, culture, not exactly my cup of tea. I'm nicheless. And I belong nicheless.

Yesterday

Yesterday I deleted Natalia. Maybe I deleted her a little too late, late enough to be told that I should stop texting her. I figured I would stop pushing it. I would stop scratching for answers. That I should just leave things. Just put them aside and move on. So I deleted her. A step which is incredibly hard to take, especially when it comes to some girls.

It's a step that I need to take, or else I'll be swimming in neediness. And I don't need this.

just some stupid crap

Me

protesters always know where to get the best pot

9:45pmMichelle

Lol what?

9:45pmMe

i mean, how do you know me?

9:45pmMichelle

I work with Kathy

Nathans mom

9:46pmMe

and you thought i was an easy lay

i don't think you know me that well

9:46pmMichelle

LMAO your funny

9:46pmMe

no im very serious

see, lower case font

9:46pmMichelle

yea you and you ho-hos

9:47pmMe

doesn't sound like me

i prefer to have love in exchange for sex

9:48pmMichelle

Lol im calling it a night...have a good one

9:48pmMe

no

i like em bad

9:48pmMichelle

i can tell

10:16pmMichelle is offline.

Classic Trig continued

I haven’t dated a Chinese girl since maybe my first year of college. It was either a very long time ago, or just a memory stacked on other female memory holders. Katherine was different. “She had boobies.” Yes! Boobies! Amazing C cups I might add. Amazing for a girl that was 5’4. And she never looked like she could’ve been fat, so her boobies were some awesome boobies. You never really get boobs on an asian girl unless she’s converting from a fat religion, in that case, you get the package; boobies, stretch marks, saggage and baggage, the works. Other than her boobies, on the other hand, Katherine did have a pretty face. The moment she looked up at me, after I told her I was racist, her eyes were like crystal brown crystals. Really purdy brown crystals. She was very cute.

We’ve been walking for the past hour, and still haven’t gotten to this club. I’ve actually never seen the part of San Francisco in which we were lost. Or maybe I have but never have at night. I was holding Katherine’s hand, then I would let go of it, testing if she would go for it. And, she did a few times. First I didn’t do it, simply because Munn was there, and I was following the no affection rule until the target was isolated. I held off kissing her because I wanted to make sure I got into her head. If I kept kissing her, she would have realized how much I’m more less addicted to kissing then she is. So I held off. . . for an hour.

We were walking by a metal fence when Munn told us he had to take a piss. He turned away from us. Katherine took her hands on my face, and took her mouth into mine. I could feel her fingers running across my hair. I pulled her away. Munn was returning back to us. I wiped off my mouth and laughed. Katherine giggled as we both pretended nothing happened.

We were walking around for the next hour, just searching for this stupid gay club. Every time Munn talked to the person that we were meeting, I grabbed Katherine and threw her next to a wall. I’d run my hands over her breast, and make sure to take them away, so she wouldn’t be able to. Every moment and any second we could find that Munn wasn’t looking, I took Katherine’s lips. Her lips really did taste like butter.

We finally reached a club. The wrong club. We were standing in front when we made the decision as to just meet this guy. So we did. We were walking near Market Street again, when Munn straight out leaves us, and starts running towards the intersection. I could see a very small person running in his direction. A midget.

Brown skin, a dirty hoodie, and jeans. He was a midget, no taller than my legs. Supposedly he was a bouncer. Supposedly he was a lot of things. He was the guy who would bluntly ask Munn and Katherine for threeways. And yeah.. . . .

Of course, Katherine tells me we can’t do anything, because this guy has a crush on her, and he would get totally heart broken if we did. So I don’t talk to her. I talk to Munn. And everything’s fine until he starts talking about my physique. Recap: Munn is gay. He says, “So really, you must be taking steroids or something.” And a lot more of that later.

After a lot of talk and bullshit and sitting and walking, we finally leave their tiny friend when we reach the bus to get home. We’re riding in the back of the bus when we meet “Weirdo #2.” A “Colombian” guy takes the seat in front of us and starts chatting it up with us. He smells of liquor and vomit, but not so much that it’s unbearable. Immediately he hits on Katherine.

“You know you’re a beautiful girl,” he says to Katherine.
“Oh thank you!” Katherine replies graciously.
“Is she you’re girlfriend?” he says to me.
I look over to Katherine, “Yeah!”

Katherine laughs and starts to say, “No he’s not!” but I stop her and say, “Shut the hell up!” For some reason or another Munn continues talking to this guy and gives him Katherine’s caffeinated alcohol to drink. He drinks from it, and passes it to Katherine. Before she gets her fingers on it, I block her, and take it into my hand.

“You are so not drinking from this!” I tell her quietly in her ear. I place it on the floor and leave it by my feet.
“What???” Katherine replies.
“If you drink this we’re not kissing anymore.”

We continue to talk to this latin loser. He starts talking about friends, and making friends, and how he loves meeting people. Loser’s talking about friends always pisses me off. If you weren’t a loser you wouldn’t need to clarifiy that you have friendly relations. We keep talking to this guy because obviously he’s not going away any time soon. But THEN! He invites us to a bar.

It’s 3 in the morning. I’m tired. I want to get to bed. I want to see this girl’s boobies. And see where it goes from there. And for some reason, Munn is actually wanting to go to this bar. Katherine’s reluctant, I’m reluctant. Katherine and Munn have this little conversation behind my head because I’m in between both of them. The latin guy tries to talk to me and I try my best to seem irritated. Katherine and Munn break from behind my head. And Katherine tells me, “We’re going!”

. . . . fuck.

As soon as we leave the bus some lady takes the drink that I left on the floor that I didn’t want Katherine to drink from. We’re walking with this Latin loser and I’m holding onto Katherine for dear life.

“You do know this is exactly how people get chopped up in little pieces?” I tell Katherine.
“I think I heard about a gay gangbang raping that started sort of like this!” I tell Katherine.
“I like my ass just the way it is. . . unpenetrated.”

We get to this damn bar/ café. And it’s closed. I tell Munn to run and never look back. And he agrees. But he wants to say bye first. I take Katherine around the corner, do a little talking and start making out. I suspect a good 4 maybe 5 minutes so I could make out, but Munn interrupts us after maybe 1 minute.

“So that’s why you guys want to get home so fast,” Munn says.

I politely apologize even though I know he doesn’t mind and he says he doesn’t mind. We have maybe a mile away to walk. Walk walk. Chat. We reach another bus. We chat with this guy from the nearby college. Take the bus. AND WERE HOME!

All of us go into the downstairs bedroom, where we originally were playing “never have I ever,” and drank wine. I’m eating cookies, laying on the bed, and I’m just waiting for Munn to leave. For some reason, Katherine’s horney switches have suddenly collapsed and turned off. As soon as I touch her she pulls back, she doesn’t want any tangibility what so ever. Probably because Munn is also in the room.

“Hey Munn!” Katherine says, “Why don’t you make us some nachos?”

GREAT IDEA KATHERINE! I think in my head. Munn agrees and walks upstairs to the kitchen. I’m sitting next to Katherine on the bed. No movement. No talking. I look up at her and she smiles. I touch her and she stands up. . . . bull shit!

I pull Katherine into me. I take her. I throw her on the bed. I put my lips on hers. I put my lips on her neck. I take my tongue and slide it down to across her chest. And Munn walks in!

“Do you guys want anything else?”

Katherine pushes me aside. “Yeah! Umm. . .” she says nervously, “Do you need help???” She gets up onto her feet and jogs up the stairs while I lay monotonously on the bed.

After a very long 6 or so minutes, both of them start walking down the stairs, Katherine with two glasses of cold water, and Munn with Nachos and his own glass of water. Katherine passes me a glass and we start eating on the bed. We eat, we chat. Beans, cheese, and chips never tasted so good. We’re just hanging. Munn is hitting on me again, telling me I’m a beautiful man and any man would be lucky to have me. . . . thanks? Katherine doesn’t get cozy with me. We’re barely touching. Yes we’re on the bed, but we’re barely touching.

“I know what he wants to do right now?” Munn says to Katherine suggestively.
“Yes! I’ve been wanting to go to sleep for awhile now.” I tell them.
“Well he isn’t going to get any tonight!” Katherine says.
“Awesome! Because I really need to get some sleep.” I tell them.

Munn starts taking his glass and the nacho plate, and FINALLY FINALLY is going to go to sleep. “You guys don’t make too much noise okay!” he says suggestively as he ascends the stairs. Katherine says, eww no. I just ignore him.

I tell Munn to keep the stair light on. It’s not much, but I don’t want the room completely dark. I want to see Katherine’s boobies in the light. “Really you want the light on,” Katherine says.
“Yeah! I’m afraid of the dark.” I say with my super low manly voice. She laughs.

All the other lights are off. We could hear the door creak close as Munn steps out of the room. I’m laying right next to Katherine on the hardest bed of my life. Katherine’s staring away from me. I could here the moment collapse.

I pull Katherine towards me and start making out. I grab her face, I grab her neck, I grab the bottom of her jeans, and I grab her shirt. I pull it up. I pull her bra up. VICTORY IS MINE! Boobies. .. .boobies. . . Just boobies. Just skin over skin topped with a brown peak and a brown stubby little pole at the top. Perfectly rounded, perfectly thick, and perfectly fit in my mouth.

I’m trying to get her bra off, but I can’t. Which is bullshit! I never have this problem with a white girl. She must have one of those made in homemade China bras. Y’know the one’s with the kung fu lock. FUCK! She laughs and puts her shirt back down. FUCK AGAIN!

We’re kissing and making out and kissing somemore. She’s gets really aggressive. Puts me on my back and starts to push me around. I push her around too. We fight, and kiss. And then I push her back onto her back. And I feel like dipping into the next level. I take my hand and slowly into the next level. I creep into her pants. And she pulls my hand away. Great! I go back to her boobies; lift up her bra and do some more of that. Kiss her kiss her kiss her. She grabs my shirt. I take off my shirt. I’m standing on top of her, shirtless, on top of her stomach. She’s staring at my body as her hands move up and down my chest and abs. I take her hands and place it on my belt.

“C’mon,” I tell her, “Do it?”
She looks up at me with steamy horney eyes, “. . . no!”

Whatever. I flip open my belt and unbuckle it. It whips out of my pants and I throw it to the side. I unbutton, I unzip, and I unpants. I’m in my boxers. Which are light gray which totally does not look right with my brown skin. She’s still fully clothed. She rubs me and starts to kiss on top of my legs, just right under my boxers. But she’s just teasing.

We make out again. I try to get my hand down her pants again. NO PASS! We make out again. Idea time! I take her shirt up exposing her tits again. I get on top of her. I pull little old me out, which is pretty big as of right now. I place me on top of her sternum and she squeezes her tits together. I go in out of her tits. In and out of her tits. And in and out of her tits.

We kiss again. And again I try to get down her pants, and fucking NO PASS! I pull away. I don’t care, I’m tired. I’m sleepy. And tired. And very very sleepy.

. . . . .very sleepy.


I could feel her kissing me on the back of my neck and scratching my stomach as I wake up to her. The lights are completely off. “You turned off the lights?”

“Yeah I couldn’t sleep.”
I take her face and kiss her gently, “You just wake up?”

“I haven’t slept!” she says. I could feel her being wide awake and me just getting out of dreaming. I take her mouth and lips once again, and once again we make out. I take my hand and crawl down her pants. I’m under her underwear and on top of her lips. She doesn’t stop me. I get deep down and start running circular motion with my fingers. She stops kissing me so she could breathe heavily. I take my index and ring finger and pinch the side of her lips while keeping the circular motion with my middle finger. Her body curls up. I kiss her neck and her shoulder. I could feel her liquefying. I could feel her liquid pouring in between my fingers as she pinches her knees together. I unbutton her pants and unzip so I could get a better motion going. I take my fingers into her. Her whole body cringes. She takes my lips and I pull in and out of her. Quickly then slowly. Quickly then faster, then slowly.

I get up. I rip her pants off. She’s kicking her legs out of them. I take her shirt and her bra and pull them off of her. She’s breathing heavily and kissing me completely naked in front of me. I bring my hand back down to her again. I’m pushing in and out of her faster and faster as she starts to shake nervously. She grabs my hair. Bites onto my neck. I’m kissing her neck. I slow down on her.

I start to lick her breasts again. I kiss her stomach. I come back to her breast and then her neck. I move my fingers faster, her juices completely smothering my hand. Her eyes rolled back behind her closed lids. Her breathing stunted and hummed as I swam my fingers in and out of her. She grabbed the back of my head, her fingers running in my hair as she pulled my face towards hers and into her lips. Our mouths moved together until she whispered in my ear, “. . . I want you.”

She pulled me onto my back, my shoulders driving into the pillows. She mounted me, kissed me, and pushed my shoulders back. I felt her fingers slowly trailing down my chest across my stomach. She pulled my boxers down slightly. Her fingers tightly wrapped around the stem of my dick, pointing it upwards; inches toward the opening of her canal.

I could see her seductive smirk across the darkness of the room. I could feel her legs pinching at my hips. I saw my dick pointing straight up to her. Time was shutting. My breathing was stammering. My thoughts blew in surplus.

“Get off!”
“What?” Katherine said.
“Get off!” I said again.


I could feel her spine crease upwards, “NO!” she said.
I pulled back but couldn’t. I stared straight into the dark silhouette of her face, “GET OFF! I’M NOT PLAYING!”

She took a moment but eventually rolled off next to me. I could feel my heart throwing itself across my ribcage. I laid there next to her not saying anything. I could hear myself breathing. I could hear her breathing heavily. I pulled my boxers back on and started to kiss her again. My hands slid across her naked body eventually holding her in my arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” she says with desperation in her voice into my ears.
I bring my lips to her cheek. “I keep my promises,” I say.

I try to bring my hand back in between her legs but she shuts them. I try again and again, but I fail every time. She tells me I lost my moment. That’s cool. I kiss her some more and some more.

We stop kissing for a moment. Katherine takes my face away from hers. “How many one night stand have you had?” she asks. I look at her and smile. I kiss her lips and then her forehead as I place my neck on top of her shoulder and whisper, “I’m a virgin.” She laughs. We start kissing again. She doesn’t even think about it.

For the longest time I thought about it. I thought and thought and thought. The numbers were immaculate. Number closes. Kiss closes. So close close’s. And of course the moments of truth and those moments being imposed with my own hand of LMR. I look back and I could see the first girl I wanted to lose it to. She was “thee” type; English major, loopy speech, green eyes, not too tall but that was okay, blonde hair, smiling perky pink lips, more big vocabulary words and text messages that were so poetically dumb that I was addicted. She was a great kisser, but her kisses didn’t taste that great, but it didn’t matter, she was the first time I experienced oneitis. It was the first time I thought about what I really wanted, and what I wanted was a relationship, and to lose it to her. It was the first time I realized heartbreak when she went cold. It was the first time I realized that heartbreak was rippling down to my other sets and I was losing my cool awesome game mentality. She broke me. All I wanted was for her to call back. A text! A call. Anything! I just wanted to hear her loopy speech and random large words like debauchery. But I never did get to hear those words.

. . . Then Capricorn came around. The first time I was able to reopen a set and actually keep it. I used the toughest neg on her that I have ever ever used. And then she was hooked. I don’t know how but she was. Then after long 4 hour phone conversations, which are PUA no no’s, for about a month I finally met up with her. And it was deep. It was being ourselves and sharing ourselves and our ideals and fears like I haven’t before. It felt like we could be best friends. But then I never heard from her after that. And no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get her back.

. . .. then last Friday came along, and she somehow returned. And it was an amazing 12am to 12am, 24 hour hang out, just being us. . .

I’ve had those nights. Those one nights. But it’s not what I want. I haven’t waited this long to let it go to anyone just for a night, or just for a moment of “maybe this is her.” I want to at least know that the girl made a mark in my life. I want to lose it to a relationship.

I woke up to the lights on. Katherine was nudging my legs over and over. She had work in the morning at 8:15. It was already 8am. I got dressed. Katherine was dressed already. And we left Munn’s house. I kissed her good morning as we made it out to the San Francisco street. I took her hand and we walked over to her car. It was freezing cold but the sun drew out the blue and all I could see was yellow across the buildings of San Francisco.

Written 9-16-2009

-Trig