Reduce, Reuse, Recycle!

After very little thought, I've decided to recycle my virginity.

I know, it sounds so fucking stupid it hurts a little, but I think whomever I end up doing it for will actually appreciate it. I think the next girl I sleep with will actually mean something again, which will be nice.

I can't believe I'm actually doing it though, what used to be a source of pride (As it is for most men,) has become a burden and a side of myself I'm more than a little ashamed of. High School was crazy, I can't count how many times I got so unbearably lucky and wound up in bed with girls as beautiful and gorgeous as I did; there was even a few occasions with more then one girl at once. However, after my run in with my Blond Angel and the stage fright and the confusion that followed, it's definitely time to slow down and wait for someone special again.

I can't believe how much insight Evelyn managed to show over the course of our relationship, she predicted this more accurately then I could have ever imagined. I remember her telling me I'd regret my dirty past at some point, whether it be through some sort of disease or just having to tell someone I care about who and what I've done, and I also remember laughing at her then. I've always been careful with my screening of girls (For the most part...) and as a male, it's natural to brag about sexual conquests. I never thought I might become ashamed of it all, I never imagined it coming back to haunt me as much as it is now. All posts under the title "Lusting for Alpha Male" have earned me a permanent and cosy spot in shallow mans hell.
(Haha, fat chicks and gay guys always wanting to talk...)

How I figure I'll do the so called 'recycling' is pretty simple.
-No porn
-No masturbation
-Obviously no fooling around until I find a certain someone who actually gives a damn about me that I care for.

Sure, it's nothing huge, but hopefully someone will appreciate it. I'm not going to claim I am one, I'm not going to hide from my conceded past, but I will do my best to try and reshape my future and live a life that's not so fucking stupid and shallow.

Now I just need to find that 'special' someone. Bummer.

Next time I'm going to try and describe the wicked tattoo idea I nearly went out and got on a whim.

Blond Assassin.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing when she called; we haven't spoken a word to each other in nearly over two years.

It was crazy, as soon as I heard her voice and realized she was coming, it was being a pre-pubescent teenager all over. Weak knees, shaky voice, sweating profusely, anxiety attacks; For the first time in probably four years I asked someone what I should wear to flatter myself. And when I saw her again it was like she had never left, her bounding step, her fluttering and spastic laugh, even her long wild blond hair. So much had changed, yet it seemed like nothing ever changed at all. It's like back when we first met: I'm an emotional trainwreck and she's so high on life it's infectious.

We spoke and it seemed so natural and right, I forgot what it was like to talk to such an honest and forward person. She spoke her mind, laughed at all my jokes and insults, and as always made sure to keep what was really going on in her head to a minimum. She just made me feel so good, I was sad to hear she was leaving right after this Angel lept back into my sights.

I offered to let her stay the night and I had one of the strangest nights I've ever had.

I started to set up my bed in the other room, obviously letting her sleep in my much cooler room with the bed, when she crept in and unceremoniously took off her bra and bent over, giving me the grandest view of her bulging cleavage. Without so much as a second thought or even a hint that I might be staring wide eyed down her shirt, she simply asked if I wanted to sleep with her.

What? We haven't spoken in years? I know you've only slept with two guys, I know you're looking for a good time, but what is this? I remember when we were fifteen and I told you about oral sex with a girl and you laughing your ass off at me, telling me how unbelievably gross that was. Scolding me softly for the raw amount of sex I managed to have as a youth, telling me of the dangers and showing some restraint, yet here you are, offering yourself to me like some sort of object?

I agreed after a moments hesitation, clearly unsure of what to say or do. In truth, of all the girls I've ever met in my life, she is (And shall remain,) the only girl I've cared considerably enough to utter the L word to that I HAVEN'T fantasized about. I've just never thought about her like that, I respect her too much and always thought of her as this wonderful saviour, a pure and hilariously gifted girl.

I got in and kept to my side, bewildered and a little astounded something like this was happening. I'd never in my wildest and bizarre dreams ever imagined something like this unfolding, this was the closest we'd been in nearly five years and then the most we had managed was a holding hands, a stolen kiss under the covers. Yet here I was, lying beside this barely clothed Goddess, unsure and more than a little afraid of what could be ahead.

She grabbed my hands with a laugh and threw one around her waist, pulling the other hand around her neck to rest a little above her breasts. I felt myself shake as she rubbed her ass up against my crotch, my nervousness beginning to rise.

We talked for a bit in this embrace, her words thick with seduction and the promise of something so much more, mine weak and mumbled. This sweet and innocent girl I had fallen for so many years ago was gone, replaced by this newly awakened women, her powers of seduction taken to impossible heights.

When we kissed I lost my breath. She started fast, but slowed when our tongues met; the pace was defined by her want of me. We sped up, our hands roaming free and touching whatever they pleased. I felt her body all over, my fingers wrapping around and feeling every inch of her incredible body. I was in a dream, my mind unattached and watching the event unfold beneath me.

She revealed more to me in two minutes then she had over the course of our entire previous friendship.

She wasn't looking for a boyfriend, she simply wanted a strong pair of arms to hold and feel her all over. She worried about me caring too much (Justly...) and how things might become weird after we did have sex, she told me she'd want to do it again but not any sort of long distance relationship. She showed me her lack of a gag reflex, told me of chronic masturbation, listed off all the filthy things she Loved to have done to her.

It was at this point I became so nervous I got stage fright, I actually could not perform.

I couldn't believe it. The sweet and innocent girl I knew was gone, replaced by this lusting and savage Amazon, begging me to fuck her with the extra finger and finish by cumming all over her tits and mouth.

I couldn't get hard. I tried everything, thinking of someone else, finger banging and oral sex until she came violently and repeatedly, my tongue inside her. Masturbation, relaxation, forcing it...

She talked to me like I was some sort of child. I've got a dozen women under my belt, she's had sex with two and is telling me what to do. What the fuck.

Afterwords, we just lay awake all night. We cuddled and kissed, I ate her out again and again watching her body rise and fall as she came and came again, we talked and spoke to each other like a married couple.

"I'm all yours right now, you know that?"

Except you're not. I know you will probably never be mine, you're too much of a free spirit to be held down by any man. I know this may be my only chance at this sort of thing again, we may never kiss or hold each other or anyone else like I am holding you right now. But I wasn't sad, I just lay there and breathed her in as much as I could. I embraced, I kissed, I tried and tried to actually get the show going, but I couldn't.

I had work in the morning and got maybe two hours of sleep, the rest of the night spent wrapped in my Love-drunk haze. When she left, she left like nothing had happened. This was simply standard treatment for an old friend. We hugged, kissed one last time, and she left with a laugh and a smile on her lips.

After it's all said and done, I honestly still can't believe what has happened. I don't know if I should speak, she's not looking for a clingon or even another fuck buddy, she could have any man she wants. I don't know when or if I'll ever see her again, but I'm still so glad I did get the chance to see her, even with what happened. I'd do it all again, even the workday that never seemed to end and being awake for the better part of 36 hours.

I miss her, but I know it's wrong to. I know such things are stupid to waste my time on, I know she's not interested in the nice guy at this point. She wants to go and experiment, party it up a little, meet some people. I wanted to tell her it won't go anywhere, I've been down and been stuck on that street for so long now it's just an embarrassment. The people you'll meet will never care or respect you as much as I will, the parties you'll see will fade and die after time, and I know that if you keep at it, you'll find someone. You deserve and will find the best.

I don't know where this leaves me. Alone, used, yet happy about it all. I know I was just a pair of arms and a strong brush up to her confidence and ego, my whispered words of lust and wonder stroking her nerves and mind.

My blond Angel, the Worlds Blond Assassin; wounding and awing young boys all over the world.

I wonder where I sit on her pile of skulls.

Fuck Alpha.

Previous entries in this blog were titled under "Lusting for Alpha Male," which after a while got old and I lost the desire and will to continue to write in that style and write about the things I originally set myself up to do. Instead I realize I need an outlet for all of my feelings, instead of just this fucked up dark side that needs alcohol, sex and some futile attempts at being popular.

From now on I'm just going to write what I please. Thoughts, tattoo ideas, and feelings towards pivotal events in life.

I'm so goddamn busy all the time now.

I mentioned before I felt like I never have any time, and now it just seems to be manifesting itself tenfold. Tomorrow, after working eight hours, I get to cut a lawn, weedwack, go home and eat, and then mow my own lawn. It's just ridiculous, by the time all of that is said and done and I've made lunch for the next day it'll be time for bed virtually.

I've made the transition to two-hundred smoothly I think. I haven't noticed any weight gain though, I feel the same, I think I look the same, I'm no stronger or weaker, and people continue to say I look a healthy one eighty. So what's up here? Where did twenty pounds come from? I really don't understand.

I was really in the mood to write earlier, but it died quicker then I could finish actually portraying what's going on in 'alpha's' life. To summarize;

-Toga party, two days away.
-Trying to sneak workouts that I find inefficient and unsatisfying.
-Disgusted with stomach again, need to find way that I can stick to to destroy it.
-Sexual appetite low, easily sated with odd bouts of masturbation.
-Ridiculous amounts of work, money is abundant. Disliking job, looking for something more ambitious and active. Also something I would enjoy and would work willingly year round. (Fitness centre?)
-Looked into kickboxing/ ju-jitsu, no call back from dojo yet.
-Appetite: Impossible. Always hungry, eating more then people for the first time ever.

There's so much to tell but my interest level has dipped. Maybe I'll get back into it in awhile.

Am I happy, just extremly bipolar?

Yay.

I had a really amazing day.

I woke up early to dig, but I enjoyed it. I worked up a sweat but had a good time doing it, I felt active and alive; connected with the shovel and for the first time in awhile not thrown into a situation that put me off balance. It was all straightforward, move the earth around me and do it quickly. No business talks, no angry customers, no bullshit. Do it, do it well, get paid well. My back hurt only for the first few minutes, after that it just seemed to let go and release, letting me work in peace. My muscles all felt healthy and active, and after a quick swim and even a workout later in the day I still feel fantastic.

I enjoy digging I've discovered. It's so simple, you just lose yourself to the scrape of the shovel and the motions lulls your muscles into a content working pace. You feel like you're really doing something, you see the results instantly and what you can do with them is incredible. You feel like you're part of something bigger, like some sort of union or a bigger socialist movement. You're together, united somehow. I can't explain it but I enjoy the feeling. Maybe there's a future with it somewhere, who knows.

I had a really, really great day. Most of the money I earned is spent or gas in my truck, but I'm still so pleased with the way everything went. I want more days like these.

I'm going to bed tired, but for the first time and what seems like years, completely content. It's odd, but I think I'll manage.

July is coming, with it an unwelcome anniversary. I just want it to melt by.

Will I ever be happy?

It's like as soon as I get something done I twist it around on myself.

Working has been alright, I feel like shit even after eight hours of sleep though, which is frustrating. The work itself is a little monotonous, it's slightly physically demanding and on the weekdays is pretty chaotic, so I feel like I'm doing something at least. The days all drag though, it feels like eight hours stretches out to twelve or something. When I get home it's honestly so depressing though; I make food and drink for the next day, eat, do my laundry, shower, and by the time it's all over, I've only got a short period until bed and the next day. My day drags and drags and by the time I'm ready for any sort of me time it's lying in bed, reading.

Reading lately had given me a totally different view on 'alpha' male though. Reading about the Soviets and how Stalin got away with what he did shows me a different side of power, something that brute strength or the ability to out drink someone could never do. Deception, cunning, intellectual pacification, manipulation, all things that an empire of monumental strength and cruelty was born from. It makes me stride towards my intellectual side again, instead of just drowning it in booze.

I'm curious to what I might be classified as if such a revolution came about. Intellectual? Writer? Anarchist? Or just another peasant, do I flatter myself with the terms I thought of before?

I don't really know. I'm not really sure if I care.

My time alone has been satisfying lately, it seems like I can count on people less and less.

With all my friends turning to drugs now it's summer I feel very alone. I don't participate, I watch the pipe and cigarellos pass from lip to lip, I take someone home because they say they're tired only to find out they just wanted to get high without me. Sometimes I drink when a party is afoot and watch drunkenly, swaying back and forth trying to comprehend why people do it but realizing I'm no better by just drinking alcohol, other times I sit back and just watch, making excuses to leave early. It's so odd that everyone, literally, everyone does it now. Friends I've known since birth, ex-straight edge teenagers, or just even the girls I thought had a higher sense of values or were 'good girls.' Nothing or nobody seems to stay pure or even trustworthy.

My friends all disappoint me. I'm a target for my weight frequently even though they know full well it's a sensitive subject. Now that I work full time they can't be bothered to change plans at all even though they don't work any days of the week, they just keep throwing their own things and ridicule me for not wanting to come out late when I have to work the next day.

I don't feel at all suited for this role I so crave, I feel like a boy trapped in the Colosseum and instructed to die. I'm bigger, stronger, but I don't feel at all fulfilled by any of it. My aggression has died and I'm again passive until poked, which gives the impression I'm much more moody then I am. I'm just generally unhappy all the time, so I hide it with alcohol or an attitude I can't keep up. People cry out in so many different ways it's impossible to tell who really needs help or just needs sunshine shot vertically into their asshole. I'd say I'm borderline, I overthink everything now. Work, women, bills, people. I wonder if they even know what I think of most of them?

I want to take a kickboxing or boxing class, I want to know how to legitimately fight. I almost just want to take a few people in my backyard and pummel them, just to get all of these pent up emotions out and to show I'm not a fucking joke. I want to grow my hair back out for my old personally I loathe so much, want my eyebrow re pierced, want my arm to be covered in tattoo's.

I want to go back to the old me, even though I know it fucked me up so badly in the past. I want to go forward and become someone totally new, but I don't know where to start or what I would even do.

Another week drags by and things stay virtually the same. Alcohol, work, restless nights haunted by Evelyn or nightmares of failure.

A workout was a much needed release, working full time prevented me from getting much done physically asides work itself, so when I finally got to the gym it felt so good, so right. My addiction has grown, several days and I feel bloated, all time low self-esteem. But when I'm out everything sorts out, I feel great again. I need to work in times for when I can bench after work and then be sure to hit the gym hard on my days off. How I'll manage is up in the air, but it needs to be done. I may weigh more then I ever have but I still look damn fine, I've never been stronger or more confident in my drinking shirt.

I wish I had the money to just fly away right now, alone. I'd go to Russia, of course, and whether or not I came back is questionable. The thought takes root more and more every day. I've got the website for a self-course on Russian that I could potentially earn a degree over the Internet, I'm not sure if I have the time or drive to learn a new language at this point.

It took me so long to write this, my wrist hurts. I've lost touch with the writer in myself.

I'm looking forward to Blink 182's mosh so I can just rage on anyone close enough to me. Dick move, right?

This town.

I feel like this town I live in has walls and it's closing in on me.

I'm so goddamn lonely all the time and in serious trouble of being unable to commit to anyone as I watch my fears devour myself.

I make a decision and can almost time myself and watch the internal clock countdown until I doubt the choice I've made; nothing seems to stick.

I'm working a job potential right now but am so scared it'll work out and that I'll leave. I want and need everything to change right now but am terrified of just letting go.

I finally hit two-hundred on the scale. People keep saying it's muscle, but I don't see it.

I'm told nearly twice a day I'm overly pessimistic and my response hasn't changed in a long while. I just think I'm realistic, and I've yet to be proven wrong on many of my predictions and thoughts.

I feel myself teeter on the slope, my arms windmilling, rocking me back and forth.