Free Agents

     I live life only for this life. I think that's what most people forget about being godless. I don't believe in an afterlife. One might say that I have nothing to live for. Nothing could be more the opposite. I have literally everything to live for. Every choice that I make affects my day to day life. You might say that of everyone, but I can't be forgiven just by telling someone I messed up. I can't repent for yesterday's mistakes. Confessing my crimes will never absolve me of them. If I lie, cheat, steal, or whatnot, I live everyday knowing that. I am damned eternally, god or no. My eternity is just shorter.

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

     There are the obvious risks of alcohol abuse: liver cirrhosis, drunk driving, and of course, poor decision-making. What we don't talk about are other symptoms. I don't know why. We preach about our food choices and active lifestyle choices, why not go into greater detail about alcohol? I have a money/economy theory, but that's not what I'm talking about today.
     Dementia. It's known that people are prone to poor decisions while intoxicated, but heavy drinking can also lead to deficits in the ability to plan. Although I do crosswords and logic puzzles on the regular, in the long-term my alcoholism will affect my problem solving abilities. It may not be strictly the alcohol, but my drinking can affect the way I absorb nutrients, which can also trigger dementia.
      Surely you've heard the "Which Came First" debate. I always side with the egg, but again, not my topic. Depression and alcoholism go hand in hand. Some people will self-medicate for depression, while others are drunk and get depressed because of it. I'm a case from the latter. I generally lead a good life. Yeah, sometimes I'm broke and sometimes I'm alone. I also have the greatest group of friends for support. I like where I'm living, and I generally like my life. Somehow, I still can't make it a week without consuming a beer or twelve. Just today I've had a carafe of hot sake, a plum wine, three Mike's, and four shots. I'm sure I could come up with a thousand excuses as for why, but the fact remains that I didn't need to drink tonight. I did. I'm not sad, or even lethargic. I went out and did things today. I just wanted to drink.
     I am overweight. I'm not huge, but I'm definitely not the same girl I was ten years ago. You could strike that up as an age thing, but it's where I carry the weight that is a dead giveaway. While I have gotten bigger all around, the majority of the new weight is carried around my stomach. My legs will fit three to four pants sizes down from my waist. My butt is the most awkward thing when buying jeans. I still manage to pick up hotties, so I tell myself it isn't a big deal. It can't be particularly healthy.
     On occasion I develop numbness in my extremities. For about a week last year I couldn't feel the toes on my right foot. I also experienced seizures at the time. Only for the beginning of the week, but still. Seizures are serious business. I absolutely did not go to the doctor. I knew what the cause was, and I knew the solution. Five years ago, a weekend binge resulted in embarrassing stories where I walked into screen doors or spoke of robot conspiracies that would kill my friends. Lately, my binges last a day. I would drink a second day, but between being miserably bedridden and shitting out hurricanes, I just don't have the energy. I used to throw up when I'd had too much, and I miss it. As embarrassing as that was, it was better than admitting that I can't remember anything. I've taken to faking it. I've heard enough blackout stories that I can pretend I know what happened. Back to my statement with the numbness, while I've never shit myself, I've peed. This has something to do with nerve damage. I just don't have the same sensation I used to. It's also ruined drunk sex. Yeah, I can fuck all night, but I will never orgasm. What's the point?
     Yeah, drinking is totally cool. Tell all your friends. I want you to feel superior to everyone you know that uses "hard drugs". Alcoholism is WAY better.

Exes, Ohs, and the Marquis de Carabas

     Love is a funny thing. I often confuse it with lust, but in this particular scenario, I think I might be getting it right. Mind you, I'm still no good at it. As time passes I find myself growing more manipulative. Forever trying for "five more minutes" is enough to make anyone crazy.
     Chasing the ex is going about as well as it always does. When we're together, it's wonderful. It's not even about the sex(not that he's ever left me with any complaints). When we aren't together, I'm looking for an excuse to see him. I could see myself spending forever with him. I can't tell him such things, but I would marry him in a heartbeat. At this point, we're friends first, anything more is just bonus. We talk every day. Sometimes it's serious, and other times it's arguing about whether magenta is purple or pink(totally pink!). We both understand that we aren't together, but the longest we go without at least texting is about two days. I love hearing about his day-to-day frustrations, his future goals, and whatever dumb shit pops into his head. It's basically every aspect of being in a relationship, just without the title. Oh, and free-reign to see other people.
     Recently, I've taken up this dating freedom. I've been talking to other guys, nothing serious, but I did manage to sleep with one. I don't know if it was actually terrible, or if I've just hardwired myself for failure. I'm certain I've raved about the ex's sexual prowess, but I can't think of anything particularly special that he does. Half of it might just be our banter. I think you should be able to laugh in the throws of passion. After a year and a half I've come to expect it. I've grown accustomed to the shape of his lips, as well as the rhythm of his tongue entangling with my own. Making out with another guy just feels weird. I don't want anyone else.
     Here's where the manipulation comes in. Our non-relationship dictates that we can totally do whatever we'd like with whomever we'd like. We only tell each other if it looks like it's gonna get serious. Sometimes he starts blowing me off, and I've pretty much taken that to mean he's started seeing someone else. Nothing snaps him back into shape like jealousy. Even though I'm not really interested in these other guys, I'll mention to him that I'm sort of seeing someone and we should probably stop sleeping together. He'll ask what said guy is like and I'll combine my favorite traits from these other guys and pick one of their names. I'll basically paint the guy as being perfect. Last time I did this, he was over within the hour. Is that crazy? I feel mildly terrible for lying, but it's terribly effective. Just the other day I wasn't feeling well, he came over anyways and snuggled with me for a couple hours.
     It feels like love. You can argue with me all day and night about my poor decisions and how unhealthy this is, but at the end of the day I still adore him. I'm elated when I wake up next to him. It's terribly unconventional, but it makes me happy.

Swipe Left!

     I'm an online dater. At least, I was. At this point, I mostly use my accounts to troll men or to use as a soapbox when I'm on rampage. Guys will at least pretend to listen when they want to mash junk and whatnot. I know online dating works for some people, it just hasn't for me. Maybe I'm too picky. Can one even be too picky online? Anyways, I have some complaints. What else is new?
     I suppose I'll start off with the easy shots. You're talking to some guy, you're even hitting it off. You decide to exchange numbers. Boom! Dick pic. Seriously? If I gave you my snapchat info, I'd get it. Kind of. But my phone number? I thought I had gotten away from this by switching to sites where I can't send pics. Nope. We've just created a new breed of cock shot offenders. Is there something gratifying about sending unwarranted viewings of your shlong? I mean, why go through the time and energy of actual conversation just to surprise me with your penis at first opportunity? Color. Me. Baffled.
     They are dating websites, right? If I wanted a random hook-up, I could easily saunter down to the nearest bar(trust me, there are a few) and jimmy my way into some dude's pants. That being said, I hate getting messages asking for sex. You could argue that at least they're being honest and just skipping the pretext facade thing. You could argue that I could just check their profile and see if I want to do it as well. I've totally slept with men with less information. It's just too bad that I like the pretext facade thing. Put some thought into it. I'm not so naive that I'm going to be talking to guys that I can't see having crazy monkey sex with at some point. I like sex, they like sex(hopefully), and I assume if we hit it off it will happen. I just like a bit of metaphor-play.
     My biggest beef with online dating is laziness: scripted messages that you get over and over, single word messages, when checking their profile it's clear that they only looked at your picture, and it's really just awful. You know, I'm pretty chill for the most part. I'll blow off messages, it's easier than turning guys down individually. I used to, but they usually argued with me and tried to convince me otherwise, so I've quit. Usually that's fine. Some guys will send a second, I'm okay with that as well. After the third, he's just talking to himself really. Then I start getting irritated. I'll respond politely at first so they know that I did see their messages, and that I just have no interest. One pick up line later and I've grabbed my megaphone and it's up to full blast. I may have lied a second ago; I love it when it gets to this point. They actually get really offended and start calling me names. As it turns out, I love banter. It's not going to get them anywhere, but I enjoy it never the less. Getting mad over it would be like playing Call of Duty and being offended over some kid calling me a faggot. It's just expected.
     Speaking of being offended: Guys, don't sheepishly tell me how you aren't an online dater. Obviously, you and I both are. The fact that you're embarrassed says wonders about me. I get that you might be socially awkward or whatever. By telling me you "never do this," you're really just ostracizing me. I'm not about to lie to my friends about how we met, and I sure as hell won't let you shame me over it.
     All in all, I think the main reason I can't seem to met someone online is because of choice. You'd think that choice would bring more opportunity, but really it makes everything worse. The options are basically limitless, so I keep getting choosier. With this mindset the grass can always be greener.

     Oh hey, look! I got a message!

For the Benefit of Being Single 2

     Break ups are still hard. I'm still a neurotic whack-job. I feel like I'm a functional human this time around though. I'm not fucking everything with a penis. I'm not immersing myself in a pit of distractions. I'm not constantly wasted. Let me repeat: I'm not constantly wasted. Maybe the difference is that I recognized that I wasn't being treated well and I called it off. I found my self-respect. I hadn't even realized that I'd lost it.
     I'm not alone. Every person I know goes a little bit crazy post-relationship. Be it debilitating depression or otherwise unhealthy coping mechanisms, everyone does it. I know people that quit eating for weeks, or that got fired because they were too unstable to go to work. My alcoholism doesn't seem that bad by comparison. I still make all my shifts. I still find an appetite. Rather, I did when it was still fresh.
     I haven't had sex in three months.  It's not even for lack of opportunity. I just don't feel like meaningless sex. I don't really want a relationship either. I simply don't have any reason to get my freak on. I'm okay  with this. I'm happy. I know I've said that before, but I think I mean it this time. I've met cute and charming men. I've smiled politely and said I'm not interested. I hadn't really noticed until my friends pointed it out.
     I've always had this hyper-sexual, confident, opinionated persona. In the last month or so the facade has worn down. I'm still confident, I just don't need to be the center of attention anymore. I'm still funny, just a bit more reserved. I might even be more approachable now. Maybe. I'm not entirely sure. I'm not going out very often, and even when I am I'm with friends.
     I think I'm finally starting to grow up. I recognize that I'm still a bit crazy, but I'm not obsessive or self-destructive. I'm like a real person. It's not fantastic, but it's not not fantastic either. It's just life.

Na Na Na Batman!

I made a card. And a t-shirt.

Movies are Bullshit

     In movies love is easy. Well, it isn't, but it makes sense there. Mistakes can be fixed. The love of your life comes back. Hell, you have a love of your life to begin with.
     It always starts out perfect and then there's a problem: distance, break-ups, illness, another person, doesn't really matter. There's always a problem. The solution is usually ridiculously silly. The problem here is that movies teach you that your true love will always come back if you make the right speech. If you say how you truly feel, all will be perfect. You'll move in together, or get married, or whatever the goal was. Then you'll live happily ever after.
     This is reality. The speech doesn't fix anything. It just leaves you feeling pathetic and empty. There's a reason you broke up. There might be someone else, maybe one can't stand the other anymore, what does it matter the why? You aren't together and trying to force things is a waste of time.
     As much as I love chick flicks and fairy tales, we live in a world with divorce, and death, and single mothers. Couples break-up every day. There is no "meant to be" and some people will end up alone. The trick is to move on.