Regrets And Opportunities

black and white man young lonely

I have to start with a couple of stories before I get to my point. I would imagine that by the time I get to my point, you, Dear Reader, will have gotten the point. Let’s get going shall we?

Back in 2004 I met a woman online. This was before “swipe apps” and dating sites were really just starting to become a thing. If my memory serves me correctly, I met this woman on MySpace.

She and I begin a dialogue, which turns to checking out each others pictures, which turns into both of us sending each other more recent pictures, which turns into flirty texting, which turns into phone calls, which turns into Skype calls, which turns into both of us deciding to meet in Vegas for a weekend getaway.

This woman lived in Seattle and I lived and still currently live, in Salt Lake City. We both figured that Vegas would be a good “middle ground” and would also be neutral territory. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

Fun thing happened when I went to get on the airplane to go to Vegas. She was already on the flight. Her flight from Seattle had a layover in Salt Lake, and was my flight as well. So there we both were.

It definitely made it easier logistically. Now neither one of us was going to arrive before the other. There was no need to contact the other person to find out where they were at, figure where to meet them, so on and so forth.

It was a great weekend to be sure.

Now, let’s fast forward a little bit. This woman and I continued our “romance” for about another 3 or 4 months. She ended up catching a flight to Salt Lake and stayed with me for a weekend, and I ultimately did the same thing and ended up spending a weekend in Seattle. I’ve never been to Seattle before my visit with her, it’s a beautiful city.

So now let’s fast forward to 2005. Seattle gal is a thing of the past, and enter Delaware Woman. Meeting her was pretty much the same thing as Seattle gal, so I’ll not bore you with those details. I believe it was in August, September, or maybe October of 2005 that I caught a flight to Delaware to meet this particular woman. Delaware is beautiful as well, and up to that time, I had never been there before either.

What I remember most about both of those amazing women (besides personal details and intimacies that I’m not going to share with you) is travelling around with them and the travelling I did to get to them.

Could I have met women closer to me? Of course. In fact, I was doing that as well as pursuing these two women. Just because these women were in completely different states from me wasn’t a reason that I couldn’t meet them.

I wasn’t kidding myself and they were not kidding themselves as to the status of our respective “relationships.” I wasn’t going to uproot and move either to Seattle or Delaware, and they weren’t going to uproot and come live in Utah. But that wasn’t going to stop us from having adventures.

Here’s my point:

I don’t regret meeting these two wonderful women. If I had to do it all over again, I would do it in a heart beat. I don’t regret that it took longer to meet them than if they had lived closer to me. I don’t regret the money that I spent to get to them.

The things that I do regret are the chances that I never took. The opportunities that I have missed out on because of hesitation or fear. Those are my regrets.

I don’t regret getting married in 2009 only to get divorced in 2015. I don’t regret that that particular relationship was the hardest relationship that I’ve had to date. Yes, marriage and relationships can be work, but when it’s fairly constant work, there’s more going on there than at first glance.

I don’t regret dating a woman who is twenty years younger than me. You would be surprised to find out just how much we had in common despite our age difference.

I don’t regret that I’m single again. There’s things that I am doing now that I would have not had the time, the energy, or the motivation to do those things if I was in a relationship.

I don’t regret that I told my Mother goodbye hours before she died. We both knew it was coming and inevitable. We both said what needed to be said to each other.

I only regret a few things.

I regret that I never went up and talked to a woman that I knew in school. Her name was Suzanne. She was stunning. She had the most piercing blue eyes that I have ever seen. I wish that I had had the balls and just gone up and talked to her and asked her out. Even if she had blown me out and told me no, that would have been okay. At least I would have known.

I regret that I never kissed another woman named Shannon. The worst part of that one is the fact that I knew, I fucking knew, she was in to me. She told me she was. And like a complete dumbass, I did nothing with that information. I was too chickenshit at the time.

You might see a pattern here. It has to do with women. I don’t regret the jobs I did or didn’t take. I don’t regret the money that I have or haven’t spent. I don’t regret the stuff I did or didn’t buy.

I regret not taking the chances with these women when I could have, and the opportunities that I have missed out on. I regret not knowing what kind of memories I could have made with them. I regret not knowing who and what those people were about. That’s what I regret. All because of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of not doing it “right.” Fear of failure. And even in some cases, fear of success.

When it’s your turn to die, when you are lying on your deathbed, what are you going to regret? I know I won’t regret not spending more time at the office doing someone else’s work to make them more money. I won’t regret taking the chance on approaching and meeting someone new, and they aren’t interested in what I’m offering them. At least there, I’ll know. And if it doesn’t work out the way that I had wanted it to? Oh well, things don’t always go the way you wanted them to, but at least I tried.

And for that, I have no regrets.

P.S. If another opportunity presents itself, and I have to hop onboard another airplane to fly to another part of the country, or another part of the world to meet someone new and see what that’s like, what do you think I’ll do?

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Jekyll And Hyde

adult anger art black background

I find it interesting the common themes that show up in our lives. Take stories and movies for example.

I’ve always been drawn to stories that deal with the “duality” of man.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Black Swan. (Have you seen Natalie Portman in this one? She’s still a woman I would like to bang. Oops, got off-track here. Nevermind, move along.)

Yin and Yang.

God and Satan.

Light and Dark.

Good and Evil.

I’m sure I’ll catch hell from the purists by mentioning God and the Devil, or Good and Evil. Relax guys, I’m talking about themes here, not absolutes and not literals. Take it easy, don’t get yourselves all riled up, it’s all good. As the great and venerable Obi-Wan Kenobi once said, “Move along.” Yes, let’s move along shall we?

Even elements from Star Wars, most notably the idea of the Force has that element of duality in some ways, at least in the original trilogy. Moving on into the Expanded Universe though, we broaden our concepts of the Force. What really turned me on with this one wasn’t the concept that there is a “light” and “dark side” of the Force, just that there is the Force, and it’s all about the intent of the person who “taps” into it. The Force just IS. It’s all about how you as the “user” of the Force that “makes” it “light” or “dark.”

Much like we are as people. For many years, I’ve run around with the “light worker” community. These are the “love and light” crowd that talk about chakras, astrological signs, and seem to have an affinity and an obsession with crystals and rocks. That somehow, someway, this or that rock or crystal can affect your “energy” or your “vibe.” That and smoking pot. Seemed like there was a lot of that going on as well.

I always felt like an outsider with this crowd even though they accepted me with open arms and open hearts. For some reason, I’ve always considered them, for the most part, to be soft. Like lambs. Trusting and even naive. I always felt like a fox in the henhouse with the majority of this crowd. I felt like a lion, lying down with the lambs.

Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

It was kind of funny, but mostly sad to see many of these people worrying about their “frequency,” whether it was “higher” or “lower” than the next person’s. Man these people knew how to beat themselves up about having “baser” desires.

I don’t have a problem with my “baser” desires. I’ve learned to accept them a long time ago. Sure, I felt guilty about some of them for a time, but it had nothing to do with my “frequency.” More it was conditioning and shaming from society at large about what I wanted.

I don’t have a problem with being a Corruptor, as my Mother once called me. It’s just one faucet of many that make up who I am. I’m okay with that. Nothing wrong with it in fact.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to fuck a beautiful woman. There’s nothing wrong with looking and flirting with them either. There’s nothing wrong with anger. It can be a most powerful emotion that can be channeled into getting things done.

Same can be said for sadness. Or envy. Or jealousy even.

The Seven Deadly Sins? What’s inherently wrong with them by themselves? Nothing that I can see. Greed just means wanting more than you already have. Just don’t let it rule you and become an obsession. Same can be said for sloth. What’s inherently wrong with being lazy and wanting to lie around? Oh that’s right, lying around in bed leads to lust. Can’t have that. Not in today’s day and age apparently. If you have lust, you are a degenerate. At least according to one section of Twitter that I see and hear from on a regular basis.

Hedonism and Puritanism are still alive and well today. Nothing has changed much that I can see. Except for maybe the volume got turned up and the clothing style has changed compared to the days of yore.

We all are Jekyll and Hyde, rolled up in one fantastic, fucked up, package.

Some want to embrace their “Jekyll,” some want to embrace their “Hyde.” Embrace them both. Nothing wrong with either of them.

Like the Force, there is no “light” or “dark” it just IS. It’s up to you. It’s your intention. It’s what you do with it. Own it either way.

Another example that just came to me as I’m writing this is the Rational and Logical vs the Emotional.

Too much rational and you can’t actually relate to anyone. You end up either a robot or a ‘sperg. Too much emotional and you go whatever way the wind is blowing, you have little to no self control. Everything is a big deal. Everything is so serious. “Why so serious?” Come to think of it, think about Star Trek. You’ve got the logical Mr. Spock and the emotional Bones. Somewhere in the middle, you have Captain Kirk. He got pissed off on occasion and then some Klingons had to die, but he also knew when and how to keep his cool too.

I’ve done the Machine. I’ve also fed off of my own emotions. Nothing quite like it either, feeding off of one’s own emotions. Nothing like feeding off of other people’s emotions too. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Go join a crowd at a concert or some sort of rally where emotions are running high, see if you don’t get caught up in it.

It’s okay to be both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Embrace your “higher” and your “lower” self. Embrace both the light and the dark. Enjoy your life either way.

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Man and Machine

terminator_endoskeleton_1020.0Today I want to address something that someone asked me about.

The question that was asked of me was “How should a man deal with his emotions? Like anger, joy, sadness, etc?”

It’s a very good question, good enough that I wanted to share that question with you all and my answer of at least what has worked for me over the years.

But first, I need you to join me in the Way Back Machine and we need to take a trip back in time to when I was in my early twenties….

Back in the early 90’s is when I attended college, (university for my Brothers on the other side of the Pond).

The Politically Correct Movement (aka The Thought Police, aka The Diaper Corps) was just really starting to take off. This was the predecessor of what would ultimately culminate in the #MeToo Movement that we have today.

Back then, the internet was really just taking off. There was no Messenger. There was no Facebook. IRC was the only real time chat program available, porn showed up as binary numbers instead of images that you downloaded and had to decode to see the goodies. Email was fairly new. The World Wide Web was still more or less in its infancy. Dial up was the means for accessing the internet. (AOL anyone?) I, like a lot of people at the time, thought that the internet was a “phase.”

How wrong was I?!

Okay, so I’ve set the stage in that respect for you. Now here’s something else that was going on, and still pretty much is, as far as I’m concerned…

Guys were being taught to “get in touch with their feminine sides.” We were told that it was okay to emote, to cry. To be like a woman basically. Now this hasn’t changed. This is still going on. I got the indoctrination too.

So here I was, early twenties, raging hormones, wanting to get laid, wanting a girlfriend, all of that good stuff.

Empathize with a woman? Check.

Be able and okay to cry? Check.

Be a good listener? Check.

Be that “nice guy?” Check.

I was surrounded by women. I was popular with women. Problem was, I wasn’t getting laid. I was barely getting any dates. And it frustrated the hell out of me.

Now before I go on, this post isn’t necessarily a “Game” lesson. But I want you to understand where I was, why I was there, where I went with it, and where it got me to today.

Okay, so my college years wasn’t spectacular. I didn’t have a girlfriend for the four years I was there. I only got laid once in that time too.

After graduation, I went to work. Kept trying to do the “nice guy” thing, and kept getting the same results.

Then I got pissed off.

Actually, I was more than pissed off. I got Angry.

I found some stuff through that was what would become the beginning of the PUA world. It was different, it was cool, it talked about things I had never heard of before. And for me, it didn’t work.

Now maybe this stuff would work for a different man with a different personality, but it just didn’t work for me. It was too cerebral for me. I had to memorize too many things.

So I bombed there for the most part. Granted it did get me laid a couple of times, but for the money, time, and energy spent, it wasn’t worth it to me.

So I got even angrier.

I decided, fuck it, I’m just going to do my thing and hit the gym. I’m going to become a Machine.

Now when I say Machine, I meant it. Ever watch the movie The Terminator? That’s the Machine I was talking about. Not Arnold as the Machine, but the Machine itself. That endoskeleton underneath the meat. (I love scifi.)

Machines are impervious (or so I imagined) Machines are unstoppable. They are ruthless. They feel nothing. They just execute.

And so that’s what I became.

Now, did I actually believe I was this killing machine from some future dystopia? No. I was never that delusional.

But I shut myself down completely.

I didn’t get angry much anymore. I didn’t get sad much anymore. But I didn’t feel much at all anymore. I felt no real joy, no love, no nothing.

In truth, I might as well have been dead. Looking back at those days, my “success” with women actually began to skyrocket as far as dates and getting laid went. I didn’t give a shit about outcome, and that’s a powerful thing. But I couldn’t connect with women either. I couldn’t connect with other men. I couldn’t connect with myself anymore.

I was totally drifting. That’s why I might as well have been dead.

I’ve gone from one extreme to the other. From emoting “soyboy” to cold, heartless, calculating Machine.

I can remember to this day, a woman actually called me that. A cold, heartless Machine. Back then, I took it as a badge of honor.

How stupid I was.

Men, there is a balance, for a lack of a better word, when it comes to your emotions.

Sometimes it’s okay to get angry. Sometimes it’s okay to cry. It’s what makes you human. It’s what makes you relatable. If you are so closed off, if you are so shut down, you won’t be able to relate to women, you won’t be able to relate to another man.

Do I still cry? Sometimes. When I do, I usually do it by myself. It’s what works for me.

I believe we as Men are the Rock for women to cling to. We are the Eye of the Storm. Women have the “luxury” of being able to emote and “lose their shit.” We don’t necessarily have that. That’s part of the “burden of performance” of being a Man.

If we emote as we have been taught to, we can’t be those things for women, and that’s because we are just like them then.

But that doesn’t mean you have to shut it all down. If you shut it all down, you’ll be dead inside. You won’t feel the anger (mostly) but you won’t be able to feel love and joy either. You won’t be able to connect with other men and women.

Accept your emotions. They are part of what make you a Man. They are just as important as what you Do.

Acknowledge your emotions. They aren’t “bad.” They just are.

Just don’t let them run your life.

Sometimes you lose your shit. Okay. No big deal. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Own it. Move on. Sometimes you are going to lose it. I’ve done it plenty of times in my life. Sometimes it’s necessary. It sets boundaries. It draws “lines in the sand.” It sends a message loud and clear. Sometimes that has to happen. It is what it is.

It doesn’t need to define you though. You don’t need to get hung up on it.

Like a song (can’t remember the name of it offhand) said, “There’s a time to laugh, and a time to cry. There’s a time to reap and a time to sow.” Something along those lines anyways.

Basically going to either extreme is not a good thing in my opinion.

What if your anger is no big deal? What if it doesn’t define you? What do you think would happen if you just owned it and moved on?

Check out stoicism if that’s your thing, check out meditation. Go to the gym and punch a bag. Go to the gun range and shoot some guns. I’ve done all of these things and more over the years. I’ve even wrote that shit down on paper (gasp! I know, right?!) and it works.

The point is, don’t go overboard either direction. You aren’t a woman (unless you actually happen to be a woman on this list) and you aren’t a Machine. You’re a Man. And Men have emotions. Men have their shit too. And that’s fine.

It actually makes us more interesting and more relatable.

I’ve waxed poetic long enough, and if you’ve read this far, thanks for joining me and journeying with me.

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