Damaged Merchandise

Another Sunday evening of insecurities. I could have my period around my mental weaknesses.

As I sit and watch TV after a workout (Which, keep in mind, usually puts me on a plateau of arrogance.) I find myself analyzing my own behaviour. I'm watching a show on sex addiction, something I feel I have struggled with at times in life. The show isn't half bad, the characters in it varying and none share any sort of connection with myself. I have every reason to be feeling pretty good.

It's when I start realizing what I'm thinking to myself that I grind to a halt and start turning over the rocks in my mind and come to conclusions I don't like.

As the women on the show break down and discuss the horrible things that have happened to them it dawns that I'm drawn to this. I feel the need to comfort them and think of how I would never do the things mentioned, I seem to think they would want someone like myself. Someone deep and thoughtful, someone who could help them through addiction and the internal pain from the demons that plague them.

It isn't just this show that I've noticed this, I've seen my own behaviour from afar in other things. I feel like I'm just Mr. Right for everyone as they bounce back from depression or addictions, as they move on from that guy that told them he Loved them before I did.

There's another word for what I want to be. A rebound.

I hate intellectually weak women and intelligence and interests are first and foremost in establishing a friendship with someone. I could never date a bimbo strictly for her looks and the sex, I have to see something past that before I even get close to them. I admire strong, independent women who have their own state of mind and beliefs. Coinciding isn't too important for me, music tastes and personal followings are something that I can't ever expect to find someone identical to me.

But at the same time strong women frighten me. A truly strong women with a Heart full of passions and strength is someone that would have to approach me; I simply don't have the sack to make any sort of move or strike up a conversation.

However, if you give me some poor broken down girl who's at the end of her leash and looking for someone to sweep her away, be sure to get my number. I'll be there until she tires of me.

And as I roll around sleepless for another night, another thought comes. I think again of Evelyn and her beautiful personality. I remember her ex that mistreated her and jerked her around forever, her desperation to find something and someone meaningful, and my own timely arrival. Was I just a pick-me-up until she was ready to keep going with her life? I can still see myself on the ground and the faint outline of her as she moves forward.

I do want a strong women, and I do want to try and Love again. However, until I sort my own shit out and clean up my act a little, who's going to come for me? I'm not going to make it on TV for a botched suicide attempt and a broken heart. I really doubt there's someone out there looking for a broken man as I do, women get men for their personality strength and masculinity.

As I wrote this, I panned through Myspace pages of Eastern punk bands, rekindling my desire to experience this scene several years back. I was born into the wrong generation.

Twenty days and counting.