Tag: masculine

The Best Part Of Waking Up Is…

Rob Says1 Comment
download (1)
Get that jingle out of your head now…

That you do.

So I’m waking up to the sound of singing birds. Birdsong. It’s nice really. I hear them outside the open window, it’s not quite dawn. There’s barely any purple in the sky at this time of morning. The birds are awake and they are singing. Always singing. It’s reassuring to hear them sing. Let’s you know that all is right in the world. At least for awhile. At least for now.

But what is it exactly that they are singing about? Are they singing a song of joy and happiness? Are they singing for their upcoming meal? Are they telling me, “Hey Rob! Wake up buddy! Rise and shine! It’s going to be a beautiful day!” Maybe. I’d like to think that that is what they are singing to me. As if they were actually singing to me. But they aren’t. No, as a matter of fact, I know what they are singing about:

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That’s what they are singing about. That’s what they are saying. And we, the stupid humans that we are, think it’s about something else.

Birds aren’t the only animals that sing a song of lust and sex. We do it too. Oh sure, we might be a little more coy about it, but stop and think for just a moment.

Why do you get out of bed every morning? Because I have to go to work, Rob. Duh.

But why do you have to go to work? Because I’ve got bills to pay, Rob. Duh.

And why do you have bills to pay? Because I bought X (a bunch of shit that I actually don’t need) Rob. Duh.

And why did you buy it? ……….

Do you really need that expensive suit/watch/car?

No. You don’t. But in your eyes, in your head, you need those things to “get da gurlz.”

And maybe you do need those things in order to “get da gurlz.” I don’t know, I’m not you.

Think about it:

Why do you live in your own house/condo/apartment? Freedom and independence, right? Sure. The freedom and independence so you can bang uninhibited and uninterrupted. It can be a bit challenging to have your hunny come over while Mom and Dad are right in the next room. And motels/hotels? Shit, those things get expensive over time. Doing it in the back of your piece of shit car? Riiight… She might do it once or twice, but not all the time, everytime. She’s going to want some privacy and something more comfortable than your backseat eventually.

I’ll be totally honest here, if I had NO sex drive whatsoever, I would have never moved out of my parent’s house. Why should have I? The rent was low (I’m not a total freeloader), Mom was there to fix the meals when she wanted to cook, and they both left me alone most of the time, so I could play video games, watch TV, and read a book in peace. But that ol’ pesky sex drive kept getting in the way…

It was difficult to date, never mind getting to the sex. Difficult to date because once she found out I was living at home with good ol’ Mom and Dad, she would raise an eyebrow and give me “The Look.” You guys know the look I’m talking about. She might as well have had a digital neon sign that said “LOSER” scrolling across it. Most dates ended shortly after that. Never mind getting to the sex, that wasn’t happening.

The ones that did get to the sex? Backseat of my car. Or when I was feeling extra spendy, a motel or hotel. But that shit was expensive, and that was a long time ago. I can’t even begin to imagine what they are running these days. Sure you could have sex outdoors/in public, that’s some good shit right there. But finding a woman adventurous enough to do it, and do it every time all the time when you have sex? That can be a tall order. Nothing wrong with outdoor/public sex, it’s one of my favorites, but not every woman I have been with felt the same way about it.

Okay, so we’ve established that you get up to go to work to finance your current fuck shack. Same with your snazzy car and all the other trappings that you buy and/or wear. Same with getting fit. Sure, there are health benefits to working out and eating right, but we are inherently lazy by nature. Don’t believe me? Go to a Walmart and look around. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

What’s the point in working out and eating healthy so that you can live forever but not have sex? Let’s be honest here, we do it so we can “get da gurlz.” That includes married guys too. Whether it’s to woo your wife, or in a worst case scenario, it’s so you have options (i.e. other pussy) for when you press the button, nuke the marriage and file for divorce.

What else do we do for sex? In my opinion, everything.

Why do White Knights, white knight? In hopes that some random girl somewhere will read his virtue signalling post/tweet/page and will be so overcome by his virtuousness that she will seek him out, track him down, and fuck him.

Why do guys show off their bods on dating apps and instagram? In hopes that it attracts the Holy Vagina. And let’s not even talk about dick pics…

The list goes on and on. Why do Men create anything? Why did we build society? Why did we create and build widgets for women? Our big head thought up the ideas, but it was the little head that ultimately did the driving.

Why have a blog? Sure you can share ideas about whatever, but why share ideas if it doesn’t ultimately lead to sex at some point? Even if it is down the road and far in the future? Why build better technology and widgets if it doesn’t ultimately lead to the idea of potential sex? Other than to survive and live yet another day, why do anything at all? And if you are going to survive for yet another day, and there is absolutely positively no way you are going to have sex, not now, and not ever, then why bother?

What is romance? Sex. What is dancing? What is having a nice meal at a nice restaurant, other than survival? Sex.

Just had a completely random thought show up for me. What is Twitter? More specifically, what is a tweet? Refer back to the picture above.

Why do we express ourselves whether via text, video, or audio for that matter if it doesn’t lead to the possibility of sex down the road? Why even bother saying anything at all?

Women may do it (get online and whatnot) for the sex from time to time. Extremely rare, I know. I can tell you though, that it happens. Many of my short term relationships, one night stands, and even my marriage started out with us meeting online. Now mind you, I know that probably 99% of the time, they (women) are just seeking attention and validation. They want to know that they are still desireable. That they still have it going on. That 40 is the new 20. I get it. It’s that dopamine hit, that rush. And you thirsty orbiters keep falling for the bait. Every. Fucking. Time.

But then again, I’ve also been to the bars at last call, and the women who are still there and alone? Do the math.

When a woman wants to fuck you, she’ll let you know. She’ll make it real easy for you. All you need to do is not fuck up too much. Close your mouth before you stick your foot in it.

You haven’t had that happen to you? Are you sure? If you are sure you haven’t had that happen to you, I’m sorry. You’re missing out. I’m not trying to add salt to the wound or insult to injury here, but maybe you need to look in the mirror. Maybe it’s you.

The point is, we all get up and get out of bed and do the shit we do, so that we can ultimately have sex once in awhile. Yes, even the women. Sure, they may not want it as much, or need it as much as the guys, but they still want it. Let’s be honest ladies, would you rather go to work and slave over a spreadsheet/phone call/asshole customer/etc ad nauseum, or would you rather get fucked silly?

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Morality

Rob Says6 Comments

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I’ve unfollowed a handful of people on Twitter lately. Many of these guys I’ve followed for years. The two main reasons that I’ve stopped following them is part of the same thing really. Morality.

Older guys telling younger guys to “man up.” Older guys telling younger guys, “how it was back in the good old days.” When I say older guys, some of them are older than me, some are my age, and a couple are a few years younger than me. Don’t even get me started on the young guys who are preaching morality. All I can say to them is, “I appreciate what you are trying to do, I’ll give you credit for the effort, now sit down.” Not to sound condescending to these up and coming young men, but guys, the world hasn’t even begun to fuck with you yet. You have no idea. So sit down and close your mouths.

A lot of the guys that I’ve unfollowed are preaching their version of morality. Or what they learned in sunday school when they were kids. Nothing wrong with religion. If Jesus helps you be a better person, I’m all for it. If Jesus doesn’t do it for you, but Allah does, again, I’m all for it for you. But it isn’t for me.

When I say it isn’t for me, I mean all religions. I was raised under a certain religion from a tiny boy until about the age of 12 or so when I decided that that particular faith wasn’t for me. Through many years I’ve looked into a variety of religions and none of them fit me. I’ve gone down many rabbit holes of religion looking for answers only to find those rabbit holes either dead ended, or just kept spiralling around like a maze. I finally got to a place where I realized for me, that the religion rabbit hole doesn’t contain the answers that I have been looking for, and never did. Since that time, I’ve stopped looking for answers via religion.

One thing I’ve come to realize though is this, if you need religion to be moral, you’ve got problems. Big ones. If you need a book or scripture to tell you how to lead a moral life, if you can’t figure that out for yourself, you really have problems.

Morality is such a slippery thing in a lot of ways. When I grew up in the faith that I did, God and Jesus were perfect, we weren’t and aren’t. But man, you would be guilted and shamed for not doing everything in your power to be that perfection. Nothing you could do was good enough. You couldn’t pray enough. You couldn’t ask for forgiveness enough. And while God was a loving God, and was all-knowing and all-forgiving, somehow God just wouldn’t forgive you for that one little thing that you did that one time. God was all loving and a judgmental bastard at the same time. Now I realize that it wasn’t the religion itself per-se that was the problem, it was the “flock” or the “congregration.”

Still, religion is just not for me. You do you baby, and I’ll do me.

One of the things that I realized that helped me decide if I wanted to continue following these particular individuals on Twitter was the fact that they are preaching an outdated gospel. The times that they want to get back to are long dead and gone. Honestly I don’t think those time periods ever existed, I think what they are saying is mostly wishful thinking and delusional fantasy.

“Getting back to God” isn’t going to “save the west.” That ship has sailed. Religion has been compromised. The United States may have been founded under Christianity, but it won’t be saved by it. The only messiah that is going to save you is yourself. Stop looking to other’s to save you. They won’t. Stop wishing for “the good old days.” Those days are long gone or more likely never existed. We don’t live in a Normal Rockwell painting and we never have and we never will. Stop looking to the sky for your answers, they aren’t there. They are inside of you. You know what you need to do, so do it.

I’ve always been more interested in what IS than what OUGHT to be. I may not always like what I see, but I would rather deal with what is. Reality just is. It doesn’t care about you. It doesn’t care about me. It’s completely indifferent to you and me. It’s not benign nor is it malevolent. It’s like gravity. Gravity just is. It exists but is completely indifferent to us. You can rail against it when you fall down and tell it, “that’s not how it’s supposed to be!” But it won’t change anything. Gravity will do its thing to you again when you fall down. Might as well get used to that idea and maybe work on ways to not fall down so much.

I have my own moral code, just as I’m sure you have yours. I’m not going to tell you how to live, and I probably won’t judge you for the things that you do. I may not do things the way that you do, and that’s okay. Doing things my way doesn’t make me any less moral than you. At least in my book.

So yeah, I unfollowed a few dudes. I got tired of hearing guilt and shaming tactics that I heard almost 40 years ago. I got tired of hearing about “the good old days.” I got tired of hearing about things that amount to wishful thinking, platitudes, and living in a world that isn’t the world that I occupy. I got tired of hearing about how things ought to be instead of hearing about how things are.

Jack Donovan talked about being good at being a Man, and being a good Man. There is a difference between the two. Being a good Man is a moralistic perspective, while being good at being a Man, well, sometimes you do what you got to do to get things done, and sometimes those things can be immoral, or at least amoral.

In a perfect world, I think it would be best to be both, to be good at being a Man and a good Man. But when the shit hits the fan, being a good Man goes out the window and becomes irrelevant if and when the intruder is standing in front of you with a gun in his hand. You could be a good Man, but a dead Man. I know which one I would choose given that situation.

The issue of morality has always been a pressure point for me. That’s because everybody has their idea of what is moral, and they always stand on the side of being right when it comes to morality. What is right for you may not in fact be right for me. In fact, I would rather find something that “works” and gets me results than worry about being “right.”

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A Brief Interlude

Rob Says2 Comments
attention caution danger forbidden
Sometimes it’s all you can do.

TL;DR

How are you? I’m fine, how are you?

 

Knock knock.

“C’mon in!”

“Hey Dad.”

“Hey Son. How ya been? What’s been going on?”

Well Dad, where do I start? I get up and go to a job that is like pretty much every other job, it’s a job. It’s not great, it’s not horrible, it’s okay. They pay better than most, but they did decide to install camera’s in the trucks to monitor the guys better. I’m not thrilled with that. I’ve been down that road before.

I’m exhausted most of the time, I’m tense, and I don’t feel like I get enough sleep. I would cry but there are no tears to come out. I’m dried out that way.

I’ve been drinking more than usual, and more often. I’m medicating my way into/out of a funk.

I don’t feel like I can write enough, podcast enough (even though I know you have no real idea what that is) and yet when I sit down to write, there are more times than not that I’ve got nothing and I think, fuck it, why bother. Thank god for automation and the fact that I have a lot of stuff in the queue. Well, at least I did. But we are getting to the bottom of that well Dad, and I don’t know if there’s anymore water down there to drink.

I vascillate between wanting to do a whole bunch of shit and not do a fucking thing but sit and stare at the walls.

I feel like an outsider with my friends sometimes. I feel like I’m an imposter. Most of the things that they enjoy and find joy in, I could care less about. I don’t have a problem with them liking the things they do, it’s just those things, for me, meh.

I use humor in all sorts of ways to take the edge off. I try and find humor in the ludicrous world that we live in. The alternative is to take it too seriously, and I don’t want to go there. I’ll either laugh my ass off or tear at my face and scream and cry my eyes out, except the tears won’t come. So for the most part Dad, I’ve decided to just enjoy the decline.

I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer of sorts, Dad. Have I ever told you that? Do you remember when I was a teen and played guitar? Do you remember when I was in theater? Even now, I tend to get too serious on my videos, my blog, and even my podcasts, but dammit Dad, I have to find the humor in it all. I don’t need to be an entertainer in the way that you might imagine Dad. I just like to make people laugh and point out the absurd.

You know Dad, when I was younger, there were times when I was too serious? I remember many times, the women I was with, they would say that I was ‘too intense.’ That seriousness and intensity scared them sometimes. Sometimes it scared the pants right back on them.

But other times Dad, other times, I could laugh them all the way to the bedroom. I could laugh the pants right off of them. I could laugh and joke and tease them right into an orgasm. I could laugh right along with them into my own orgasm too. Ever done that Dad? Laughed and joked yourself into cumming? It’s pretty damn good Dad. You should try it if you haven’t.

Humor is underrated Dad. I know you know this. I know that I got my sense of humor from you. The dry wit. The occasional sarcasm. The over-the-top slapstick. And yes, even the gross humor. It’s all from you. I know this and can say this because Mom was never funny. Oh sure, she knew a few jokes, but she was never actually funny. Funny shit happened to her and around her, but she wasn’t actually funny. So yeah, I got it from you. Thanks for that Dad.

And some days Dad, some days, the only thing that keeps me from eating a bullet is the thought of who will take care of my cats when I’m gone? How long will it be before I’m noticed as missing and someone decides to do a welfare check, and welp, there he is. No wonder he didn’t show up for work. But did the cats have to dine on my corpse before that day would come? That’s what stops me Dad, the fact that I don’t want my cats to starve to death or die of thirst. So there’s that.

Other than that…

“I’m fine Dad. Not a whole lot going on. How are you? What have you been up to lately?”

 

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