It’s been a minute since I have wrote to all of you. There’s been a lot that has been going on since I last gave you my thoughts. I’m still missing my cat. One thing I have learned about the death of someone or something that is very close to you, that is very near to you, is that you never “get over it,” you just “get through it.” I’m still getting through it. It’s not as bad as losing a parent, a mate, a child, or a sibling, but it’s still “up there.”

I have also been getting more and more into fire performance. I remember BullRush saying something to the effect a while back that “you’ve (me) gone from chasing the Dragon to literally becoming the Dragon.” I like that.

Fire performance is a lot of fun, but it has its own inherent dangers of course. It’s hard to film yourself and put it on social media while you are doing it. The odds of setting yourself on fire and burning yourself alive go up dramatically when you are trying to multitask and do things for likes. You guys can check out the video of me doing this shit if you would like:

I have also been hanging out with the Belly Dancer and with other fire performers and entertainers. Over Labor Day weekend, we attended a party for a mutual friend of ours who was turning 50.

It was a pirate themed event. There was a LOT of rum and other sorts of booze to drink there. The party was great, but it is also why I decided to write to you today.

The party itself was on Sunday the 3rd of September. I drank a lot, she drank a lot. We both drank a lot. There was a lot of beautiful people, and by beautiful people, I mean there were a lot of beautiful women there. Almost all of these people, the men too, were in excellent shape. It’s summer still, it’s hot, there’s a pool, and so most of the people, including the women, decided to swim at one point or another. So there’s bikinis going on.

I’m noticing them in their bikinis and the Belly Dancer notices them too and makes a comment and I make a comment back. No harm, no foul right? The rest of the day goes on, the drinking continues, and by the end of the night, I’m the one driving us home because the Belly Dancer had too much to drink, threw up a few times, and couldn’t drive. I get her to her house, get her inside, put her to bed, and then I go home and go to bed myself.

I wake up the next morning with a slight hangover and she comes down to spend the day with me. That was the plan all along.

Except when she got to my house and came in, she said, “I need to talk to you.”

I said, “Here we go.”

And away she went.

I’m not going to bore you with the details. It would take several blog posts to cover it all.

Suffice it to say, we both went to the same exact party, hung out with the same exact people, and we both experienced two different realities.

My reality: I had never felt closer to her in my life. We joked, we laughed, we were together and yet we weren’t “joined at the hip.” She would go and talk to people, I would go and talk to people. It was a fantastic day.

Her reality: She felt neglected and “invisible.” I put quotes around that word because she used that word when she said that she needed to talk to me.

I let her talk without saying a word, I just listened. I was also shocked. This conversation truly came out of left field for me. I thought everything was fine.

By the end of the conversation, she felt much better. I didn’t. I was already mulling everything over that she had told me. I had interpreted what she had said as basically, “Rob, I felt bad and that’s because of you and what you said to me, and you need to change.” I’m not saying that was what was actually said, I’m saying, that’s what I heard.

For the next three days, I “put myself on trial.” It’s what I do. I go over things and I try to see them from the other parties point of view and also my own. I could see her points. I had been drinking. I ran my mouth about a woman in a bikini. I made a joke that she didn’t get and didn’t think was funny.

I also saw things from my own point of view. I like to drink and I run my mouth. I don’t set out to “step on people’s toes,” but I often do. I don’t do it intentionally or with malice, but it happens. I have always been that way since I was a kid. And you know what? I’m okay with that. Why am I okay with that? Because it’s part of who I am, and I happen to like me.

I mentioned all of this to some people that I know and respect, all guys. They agreed that I hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. But the “conventional wisdom” was to “let it go.” But that’s not me. Especially when it comes down to something that is literally who I am. It’s a huge part of why I’m writing this today.

On Friday the 8th of September, the Belly Dancer and I went to a play.

Before we even left to go to the play, she knew something was off. “Are you okay?” I brushed it aside and said that I was exhausted. Which was true. It had been a long week at work because making up for a holiday is hell, and I had also been pondering everything she had said to me on Monday for almost four days straight. I was exhausted. She took that picture of me while we were waiting for the show to start. I was pondering the future of our relationship at the time. I was wondering what it would be like to have my “shield’s up.” To be guarded. To watch what I said and did around her. I was wondering what it would be like to handle her with “kid gloves” and to “walk on eggshells” around her. This was me giving that potential future a “trial run.”

The next day, Saturday, she came to my house. I started off guarded and careful. It was tense and it sucked. She knew something was off and I knew something was off. That’s because “conventional wisdom” said to “let it go.” But I couldn’t. That’s not me.

She was talking about something or another, but there was an opening for me to ask her a very important question, which I did: “Hey, I know you love me. I know you are attracted to me, but I need to know, do you like me? As a person?”

She immediately answered me, “Yes I like you as a person! Why are you asking me that?”

To which I replied, “That’s good, because I like me too. But if you like me as I am, as a person, why do you want me to change? I have been the exact same guy since the day that we met. Nothing has changed for me. I drink, sometimes to excess, I run my mouth and say stupid shit sometimes, I always have. I have always been this way with you, so what changed and why? I don’t want to change who I am, I did that once, years ago in my marriage, to “get along and not rock the boat,” and I hated myself for it because of who I became, and I resented her (my ex-wife) for it as well. I can’t do that again, I won’t do that again.”

“Conventional wisdom” suggests “letting it go” because otherwise you may “open Pandora’s box.” Basically, you could make things worse for yourself, and generally, I would agree with that. But not in this case. I know me, and I know her enough. I know the context in this situation. I also know that if I did “open Pandora’s box,” I was okay with that. If that meant the demise of what we had, our relationship, I would rather get it over sooner than later.

Long story short: She didn’t and doesn’t want me to change. She likes who I am as a person. She knows that I like to drink and that I run my mouth. Believe it or not, it’s something she likes about me, it’s part of her attraction to me, because I have the confidence to say what’s on my mind, damn the consequences.

I said what I needed to say, she listened, and then she said what she needed to say to clarify her point of view, which I understand.

I finished up my part by telling her, “You might want to develop thicker skin and wear steel toed boots around me. I can’t and won’t police my words and thoughts around you to spare your feelings, I never have, and I never will. Just remember that if I step on your toes, it wasn’t intentional, I didn’t mean to hurt you, and it’s because I’m standing right next to you.”

Will this come back and “bite me on the ass?” Maybe. But do you know what? I don’t care. If that’s where it goes, that’s where it goes. Worst case, we end what we have, and I’ll move on and find another woman. It’ll hurt and I’ll get through it, just like I always have. But I’m not going to do “Death by 1000 Concessions.” It’s not me. I like who I am.

But for now, things are good between us as far as I can tell. They’re good until they aren’t.