It’s been a couple of weeks since I posted something, so let me get you caught up, Dear Readers.

A little over a week ago, my Girl Who Likes Pain had to tell me goodbye. She wants something that I don’t. She wants a steady man, a boyfriend, someone who wants and chooses monogamy. That’s not who I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that guy again. It was killing her and that’s not what I want for her, that’s not my endgame.

The choices we make and the consequences we reap. My lifestyle of “spinning plates” and non-exclusivity isn’t an easy road to walk and it isn’t for everyone. On one hand, I get to “sample” many women, their bodies, their souls, their personalities and quirks. On the other hand, they develop feelings over time, as do I, but I know who and what I am. I may never have just one person in my life again. I remember hearing somewhere at some time, someone asked a question, and that question was: “Do you think it’s possible to love more than one person at a time?”

When I first heard that question, I had no idea. I had never done anything like that before and so I had no clue and no experience in it. Now I have and now I do. Have experience that is.

Yes, I believe we can. Or at least I can. I can say that I have the capability to love more than one person at a time. Romantic, intimate love. Not just platonic or familial love. So when I “dive in” with a woman, I dive deep. I go all in.

I tried the whole “keep them at an arm’s distance” years ago. I was a robot. And that choice had its consequences. I never let them get close to me so then I couldn’t be hurt. I wouldn’t care. The thing is though, those “relationships” were shallow and two dimensional. They were flat. The women never got to know me, not really, and I never got to know them. It sucked. They never got the “gift of me.” And I never got the “gift of them.” So now I go all in. When my Girl Who Likes Pain had to fly, it hurt. It cut deep. They always do. Even now I’m still processing it. It still hurts. That’s because I cared about her deeply and I miss her. I always do. Miss them. That’s the choice I make and the consequence that I reap. But the greatest, final gift of love that I could give her was to let her go, it was what she needed. And so I did. I let her go.

I’m also about opportunities and I’m open to the next possibility. The night before Thanksgiving I had a new woman come over. I’ll call her “Red and Black.” That’s because she has two-toned red and black hair. Yes, you douchebags who think that multi-colored hair = bad can wring your hands and clutch your pearls and beat your meat over it. Yes she has red flags, a couple of big ones actually. But do you know what? Don’t care, got laid. Red flags are a green light. I’m excited to see if this one goes anywhere. It might, it might not.

The Friday after Thanksgiving and for the next couple of days afterwards, my teacher/belly dancer took me to Wendover. Las Vegas would be Wendover if it was broke, had a tiny population, and was on the verge of bankruptcy. You can taste the desperation and the despair in the air. But it’s a great place for food and debauchery. And that’s what we did for 3 days. Food and debauchery. While the casino/hotel we stayed in left much to be desired, the jacuzzi in the room was decent and the steakhouse was a hidden gem. 10/10 I would go back just for the steakhouse. It’s a bit on the pricey side, but you know where the money went.

The jacuzzi was decent, the mirrors in the room were even better. Turns out that my belly dancer is a bit of a voyeur/exhibitionist. Not as much as I am, but hey, everybody has got to start somewhere. There’s a lot of promise with her. Not enough for me to say goodbye to any other women that show up in my life, but she’s pretty awesome. She’s another soul that believes she can love more than one person at a time and she says that she understands where I’m at. Is she seeing other men? Of course she is. Is she doing the things that she does with me, with them? I have no doubt. I don’t consider myself special or an exception, that’s the way it is. And that’s part of the choices I make and the consequences that I reap. And I’m good with that.

As a side note, if you have the chance to get a woman in a room with mirrors on the wall and the ceiling, I highly recommend that you do. Get her to watch herself in the mirror. Watch her watching herself. It’s hot. It’s like being the director, the star, and the viewer of your own porno. She has already made reservations for another casino/hotel with a better hot tub, mirrors, and whatnot for my birthday in January. Let’s hope that we are still seeing each other by then. Choices and consequences.

So one had to leave, a new one showed up, and one gave me food and debauchery. Choices and consequences. I can live with both. Can you? What choices are you not making because of fear of judgment? What choices do you want to make, but are avoiding because, “what will (insert whatever nonsense here) think? Or do?”

It’s your life, you only get one chance on this ball of rock and water. Choose. And be prepared for the consequences. Be good with them.

It’s interesting to me, it’s been almost 6 months since Teriyaki and I split up. If you recall, we were drifting apart, and she was putting more time and making other things, like drinking, a bigger priority than me. When I confronted her about it in late May, I ask her if she still wanted to keep seeing me or not. It’s a yes or no answer, as in either it’s a yes, or anything else is a no. I got an anything else, so it was a no. I called it off on the spot, told her “no hard feelings,” offered her the invitation to stay in touch if she so desired, kissed her goodbye, and never looked back.

She reached out to me in late June, about 3 weeks after I ended things. It was close to her birthday and she was wanting company for her birthday. I was willing to be that company until I found out she didn’t really want me, she just wanted company, as in, anyone would do. She didn’t want to be alone is all. I politely declined her invitation to hang out with her on her birthday. I was in fact, meeting someone else that day.

I heard from her again on July 24th. She mentioned something about wanting to catch me on Red Evening with Jack Napier, but I wasn’t on that night because the power was out at my house and had been out for almost 24 hours. That was the last time that I have had any contact with her.

I was going through my Facebook profile and saw something she posted. I went to her profile and saw that she was in another relationship. Good for her. The best part though? She had been in that relationship since May 28th of this year. That was the day that I broke things off with her. I had a suspicion that there might indeed be another guy in the picture, and according to Facebook, it appears that there was.

I wasn’t terribly shocked or surprised and I’m not hurt or disappointed either. It just is what it is. I unfriended her though since we haven’t had contact since late July and while I was at it, I unfriended my ex-girlfriend who I haven’t had contact with in over a year. There’s no point in staying in touch with them as far as I’m concerned. I’m not a sentimentalist in that way.

I have been doing a lot of reading this year and so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m getting my source wrong. Too many books on too many subjects, but I believe it was in the novel, “Women” by Charles Bukowski that I came across something he said and it stuck with me. It was something along the lines of, “You live with a woman, eat food with them, share a bed with them, fuck them, have experiences with them until one of you leaves. You then have a short period of time alone, and then you repeat the same thing over again.”

Like I said a moment ago, I’m not a sentimentalist. Even my Mother accused me of that years before she died. I’ve never seen the point in staying in touch with someone that you or they no longer want to stay in touch. What’s the point? If you were the one to be left behind, it’s pretty clear to me the other party wants to move on without you. If you were the one leaving someone else behind, at least in my experience, it’s you who wants to move on and find something and somebody new. Why those lines that I’m not entirely sure it was Bukowski wrote stuck with me, I’m not entirely sure.

It’s something that I think about though. I was married for five years and with my ex-wife for a total of seven years. We had some great times and some not-so great times. Same could be said about my ex-girlfriend. Almost 4 years together and 2 of them living together. Same with Teriyaki. That was just over 10 months. Almost a year.

If it was in fact Bukowski that wrote it, and I believe it was, we get together, have our moments, have brief moments of being alone, and then more or less repeat ourselves. It’s what I have done multiple times throughout the years. If that is what we have become, if that is in fact, what we are and what we do, then why do it? Why bother?

It’s more of a rhetorical question that I’m pondering as I write this. Ha! Maybe on some level I’m a sentimentalist after all.

The thing is, I can answer my own question, at least to some degree. Why bother? Because it’s me chasing the dragon. I do like those highs when you are in the “honeymoon phase.” I also like sex and the company of women in general. But those lines that I believe Bukowski wrote give me pause.

3 different women. 3 different backgrounds. 3 different age groups and life experiences. Almost 12 years total of my life. I have the memories from all of them and I cherish them. I’ll cherish them until I die or lose my mind to dementia or Alzheimer’s or some other misfortune. No more contact from any of them, which I’m aware is fully my choice. I don’t like loose ends, drama, and again the question that I ask myself, “What’s the point?” We are not going to get back together either because they don’t want it, or I don’t want it. And even if we did, the relationship wouldn’t be like it was before the breakup. There’s a reason we aren’t together now, and that reason hasn’t changed. It’s the elephant in the room if we were to get back together.

I guess I’m feeling a little bit of melancholy as I write this, thinking about what I’m sure was something that Bukowski said. We get together, share some moments, sometimes for years, then we either drift apart or fall apart, or even detonate. We have our periods of being alone, and then for most of us, we repeat the cycle. Almost like the life we had before never happened in some way. That’s the part that stings. It’s almost like I or they, never were. Other than the memory.