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Gawd

I read my old posts and can hardly recognize that it's me. Wow. Got to get back some of that, and combine it with the good stuff I've got going now.

Becoming Your Parents - an ode to me?

A quick update on me and my situation.

I've been dating Umma for the last few months (Umma means mom, by the way, not older sister. She claims she said Nuna that first night in the club. Whatever.) She's a great girl and I like her a lot, and I'm still enjoying sex with her which is uncommon for me this late in the game. It could be because we can only see each other on weekends, so the lack of being together all the time keeps things fresh, or it could be for any other number of reasons.

I'm not dating her exclusively, however (much to her chagrin), which brings me to the reason for writing today and the topic I want to explore a bit.

I was talking with my mom on Skype, and found myself completely uninterested in what she had to say - I was browsing facebook while she talked and basically ignoring her. This happens almost every time she talks to me, about almost any topic. Then my dad, while I'm interested in talking to him, very rarely has anything to say that isn't unasked for advice and I find myself not wanting to hear that either (the difference, I think, is my dad now strives to find topics other than advice on which to speak, while my mom still does the same things that bore/annoy me).

It isn't that I don't love or appreciate them, far from it, I'm just having trouble with them as of the last year or so. Perhaps because I'm moving on and becoming my own man. But I digress.

Looking at their relationship, my dad barely even fakes patience with my mom anymore if she tries to get in on one of our conversations. He gets a look in his eye like "Oh gawd.." and then proceeds with an "anyway" once my mom finishes her say. Their relationship is, in short, everything I don't want in my life.

In my experience in the world and almost everything I do, my strongest motivator for self improvement or in changing or shaping the direction of my life has been to see models of what I hate in other people or their behavior, as well as having powerfully painful experiences.

I really like Umma, but there are a few factors that keep me from involving myself in an exclusive relationship with her. In high school, a friend of mine had the most codependent, needy, insecure, explosive and unhealthy relationship with a girl that I could ever imagine. In it I discovered some of my many rules by which I govern my life - never apologize for something over which you have no control, as an example. I held such ire for the relationship that I molded ways to shape my life and future relationships that would never allow me to enter into such an awful, and as I saw it soul destroying situation. To this day I have not had anything near to that level of chaos.

Another factor was my break up with my first girlfriend. Using my newly acquired rules and model for everything I hated in my friend's relationship, I molded my first relationship into something more desirable. We never fought, rarely argued, never -until the end - had any "emotional talks" which my friends were constantly mired in and hated (the talks being the girl complaining about how the man doesn't care enough and needs to do more, or bitching about trivial things). But as I drew toward the end, I realized I needed more.

Emotionally I wanted nobody else but my girlfriend, but sexually I wanted everybody but her. I could not be in a relationship with her any longer and not cheat or make her miserable with my constant icy lack of desire for her. I broke up with her, and it was the single most emotionally painful experience of my life. Since then, I have not had a breakup of that magnitude, and often times the girl and I just drift or go different ways in life, and come back to find there is still some spark for each other, some piece we can still play with if we desire.

The final factor is my parents. In asking my dad why he chose my mom to marry, one valentines day a couple of years ago, among many words carefully chosen to disguise meaning and bland acceptance, I remember these in particular, "One day, you'll find a woman with...enough of the values and qualities that you appreciate." I couldn't believe it. He had actually said 'enough.' My father, veteran of an over 30 year marriage, had just confessed to settling instead of striving for what he really wanted.

The result of that kind of attitude? As much as I love and respect him, and as far as he has come in life (wealthy, occupationally successful, viewed as successful in family for having a seemingly stable marriage and three children, big house, a few cars, etc.) if I gauge his success by happiness, he has failed. His life consists of going to a job he hates, facing again each Monday like he's going into a battle he never wanted to be part of, coming home in the evening, having dinner, maybe watching a movie rental or some TV, then going to sleep and doing it all over again. He spends the large amounts of money he makes on home improvement projects. New furniture, a remodeled staircase and fireplace, etc. and only gets pleasure from those when other people admire them or notice they've changed (gone in a year when every friend has seen it and new people don't always comment).

His greatest happiness, outside of his pride for his children which I see glow more strongly in him and am thankful for, is going to some family owned land out in the mountains and being in nature. Hiking, fishing, hunting, etc. The problem? He can't share it with my mother because she gets bored out there. As she ages and continues to eat body destroying food (a sin I'm guilty of as well) and dogmatically holding to the idea that pilates is superior to HIT as exercise, her body degrades and as basically falling apart. She constantly has knee and joint pain so any sort of demanding outdoor physical activity, demanding beyond walking a short distance, causes her pain. She enjoys theater and dancing (though I wonder how much dancing she could do in her state) and things of that nature. She and my dad are complete opposites, interest wise.

And yet, people always say, "As much as you try not to, you're going to be like your parents." Perhaps repeated patterns like that of my parents' relationship are what is thought of when the phrase "sins of the father" is used.

I think that's a crock of shit, in my case. Of course I'm like everybody in saying "I'm not going to make that mistake! durp dee durp dee dee!" but I'm the only person, the ONLY person who I've grown up with and met (other than through some mutual area like the PUA community which has a number of guys like me) in my travels through life who has changed his behavior and reshaped his life when I've come into contact with things that come close to destroying me or that I despise.

When it comes to marriage, I avoid it like the plague while more and more of my friends get married or engaged. Everytime I bring this up with people who talk of marriage, if they're older it's always the same response, "You're just young, you'll get to an age where you're ready to settle down, blah blah blah." I'm 23 and I hear this from 25 year olds, as if being 20-30 out of a hopefully 70-90 year life (18 or more of which spent in the shelter of your parents) is enough to experience and drink in all that life has to offer.

As a side note, the most recent of those seasoned life livers (25 years old) left Korea to get married and has now broken up with her then-fiancée.

I need also to take myself down a notch. The predominant purpose of my philosophy and guiding principles in my life has been the avoidance of pain, but very few of my major decisions have been in the pursuit of pleasure.

From this point forward, I have a new life goal and guiding principle.

My goal is to continually ramp up my effort to make decisions that are based on the pursuit of pleasure, and not the avoidance of pain.

Of course I'll still recognize that the avoidance of pain has brought me a long way, and there are decisions that ought to be made in that way, but the goal stands.

It is vague for now, but I'll tweak it.

First Korean Date

I've been in South Korea for the last month and a half, and will be for the next 11 months. It's lovely, so far.

Last night I had my first date with a Korean girl.

From what I've gathered from talking with Koreans, doing a little research on the side, and my own observations, the dating culture here is nothing like it is back home in the States. Well, it's similar, but moves a pace that is MUCH SLOWER than everything back home. That isn't to say that an extremely gifted lady's man couldn't make things happen fast, but it's going to be a different, perhaps harder road.

First off, Korea is a very patriarchal culture. Despite what feminists want us all to believe, the United States is nothing like this. Women are actually treated differently by the boss than men, they have different social rules applied to them (e.g. women who smoke in public are looked at with scorn, the girl I took out was rejected by a man because she told him it was OK if he smoked because she smoked too), and have a completely different mindset when it comes to sex and dating. The family is very important, and so many women are genuinely dating to find a husband, and it is considered shameful in some circles to not be married by your late twenties. Marriage is a major life goal of many women.

In regard to sex, any sort of touching or kissing before several dates have passed (I've heard tons of different numbers, from a couple dates to a couple months before it's OK) is considered, for lack of a better word, slutty. A Korean friend of mine explained it in limited English by saying the girl just does not know until then if your feelings for her are genuine.

Enough on culture. I met this woman, "Um-ma," in a night club in down town Seoul. She looks perhaps 23-25, very petite, short hair, and has a set of girly adorable mannerisms juxtaposed along side a genuine "don't give a fuck what you say" attitude that I'm drawn to irresistibly. However, when we asked each other's age (common in Korea because it helps people decide how much respect to speak to you with - Confucian culture) she told me she is 32. Whoa! She said, jokingly, that I should call her Um-ma, which means older sister.

I approached her while looking for my friend's glasses, and discovering that she spoke good English, started talking to her in what way I could in the loud night club. I asked her for a mint, and then moved us to a less loud area of the club. I was surprised she was so willing to follow me after such a short interaction. We talked quite some time, at one point I left the club not intending to come back after we exchanged facebooks (I only just got a phone), but I did come back and we talked some more. I was the only person who had commented on her rain boots as "ridiculous" and she seemed willing to let me touch, move and rearrange her posture to fit what I wanted.

After awhile, I convinced her we should talk some place else and we left the club together. We held hands and walked around in downtown Seoul, just talking and getting to know each other. That night I told her I would call her as soon as I got a phone, and would send her an e-mail asking for her number. When we parted, I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She only weakly hugged me back and did not kiss me. I took this as a sign of Korean culture and not any sort of disinterest.

I called her up later that week, we made plans, and we met up last night in Seoul at about 7. We did not hug when we met, it felt like it would have been forced and somewhat awkward. We walked around a really neat district, just talking to each other and enjoying each other's company. Then stopped at this restaurant to eat some of this ( http://lorencz.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/800px-korean_chicken_soup-samgyetang-01.jpg ). Very delicious, if a bit expensive. She offered to pay her share, but I told her she could pay for the next place. I was told it was bad manners not to pay for your date in Korea, but much of what this girl said to me seemed very disillusioned by much of Korean culture, especially in regard to dating customs and social norms (she smokes in public!).

We walked around a bit more, talking and talking. A lot of my humor was lost on her because it just doesn't translate so well, and she would often respond logically to some of my jokes - One thing I do sometimes back home when somebody talks about a weird quirk or fear is to assume a faux Freud accent and look at them seriously and say, "Tell me about your mother!" but Um-ma responded by actually telling me about her mother. She has such adorable mannerisms, like when something excites her, or if she finds her way when looking for something, she will skip one step, or the pitch of her voice gets higher. Such a cutie.

She took me to the waterfront and we went up into a cafe for a waffle and a milkshake. It's adorable watching any Korean use a knife because they don't ever do it (if they have long noodles or a big piece of meat, they cut it with scissors. Seriously). So after she struggled enough cutting the waffle, I took the knife from her and showed her how to use the teeth and saw through the food, busting on her a little, and then I forked a piece and tried to feed it to her. She refused and got embarassed, playfully, but I persisted, treating her like she was the young one of the two of us. She conceded at last and held my hand while I delivered the food. When there was only one bite left, she told me when she was young her parents used to tell her "the last bite is for the youngest" and so she forked it and tried to feed me, laughing at my age. It was probably the best few moments of the night.

We were out too long for me to catch the subway home, but I have a friend who lives near where she does, so she said I could come with her to meet her friends while I waited for my friend to call me back. He didn't call back for a couple hours, so I ended up at a bar having drinks and talking with Um-ma and her two cute female friends, who were already well drunk by the time they showed up. I got a hold of my buddy and he said I could stay, but i wasn't ready to head to his place. The friends insisted that Um-ma and I sit next to each other, which in Korea is what couples do, and at one point one of the friends said I could go home with Um-ma and she wouldn't mind at all. The two friends talked to each other in Korean, and Um-ma and I sat close, touching each other and listening to a shared pair of headphones while talking. She ended up pretty tipsy (extreme light weight) and was ready to get out of there.

I got up with her and took her downstairs to get a taxi, and she said "It's OK if you come home with me, tonight." Normally I would take this as a surefire invitation for sex, but this is Korea, and nothing is as it seems. She took me to her place and told me just before we got there that she had a roommate, but she works the nightshift and wouldn't be home. More good signs?

We walked in to her apartment, which was spotless and yet she still apologized for the mess, and there was her roommate, flopped over on her bed, passed out with her bedroom door wide open. No matter, we went into Um-ma's room and got ready for bed. She wanted to shower before getting into bed so I waited for her to return (again, I'm made somewhat unsure by Korean customs of how I should behave, and decided this was not a green light). She did, with nothing but a towel on, then put on a long night shirt that made her look like a little girl, with no panties on underneath. She put on some boots of hers and did a short model walk for me, which got me very excited. Then she took them off and climbed into bed with me.

We cuddled a few moments, me deciding if I should just act on my desire and relieve her of any responsibility, before her phone rang. It was the roommate. PISSED OFF that Um-ma had brought home a guy. They texted a few times before Um-ma got up saying "she had to do something about this" and went out to talk to the roommate. 10 minutes later, after some heated argument in Korean, Um-ma came back and told me that I had to leave. She apologized profusely, but would only explain her roommate's agitation as "a Korean thing" and started ranting about how sometimes she hates and doesn't understand Koreans.

I pulled her into my lap and held her for a few moments, told her everything was OK and I could call my friend, and that she need not be sorry. I had told her about being into Jujitsu earlier in the night, and I held her close and pulled her down onto the bed and whispered "this is Jujitsu" jokingly. I pointed to my cheek, she went to kiss it and I turned to steal a kiss on the lips. She caught me and pulled away coyly, and I gently pulled her in for a kiss on the lips. We hugged again, I dressed, hugged her again and kissed her cheek at the door, and left.

I had an hour and a half to kill before the subway opened (it was 4 am) so I just walked around her neighborhood till I could leave.

What a fuckin' night.

The Experiment With Celibacy

This is all old news for me, but I wanted to put it down here for posterity.

Back in September, I was laying on my bed reading when a sudden idea came to me. What would my life be like if I wasn't always trying to get laid? I was shocked to discover that this notion was revelatory and I had never once considered it before. It filled me with a sense of excitement like at the prospect of a serious but surmountable challenge, and strangely, a sense of an almost erotic calm.

I slept on it, and then decided to enter into what I have been referring to as "The Experiment."

I wrote myself a list of rules. No chasing women, in any sense of the word, no sex, no kissing, no spanking girls as they walk by, no sexual contact of any sort. I defined all of these rigidly and left no loopholes for what I knew later would be my rationalizing mind getting a hold of The Experiment and inventing ways to get out without failing. I was also to keep The Experiment entirely to myself. I wasn't doing this for attention or for other people in any way, so they need not know.

I wrote a series of things I would have to do in order to demonstrate my commitment to the Experiment. Among them: deleting girls I had been aching for from facebook and myspace, removing all female contacts from my cell with whom I had any sexual interest or could ever see myself having interest in, and deleting my long cherished folder of naked pictures and video of various girls I've been with.

Clearly, I was serious.

The night before I began, I was having a conversation with the girl in this post and she said to me, after hearing all I had to say on whatever it was we were chatting about, "Maybe you should just take a break from women." I almost cried hearing it. I felt visible in a way that I've rarely experienced. That night we slept together.

The following day I signed my contract. The Experiment was to take shape over three phases and I was supposed to keep a journal each week, chronicling my progress. The first phase was the total celibacy described above, which would last from September to Thanksgiving. The second phase was to forbid myself to chase, but to allow hookups - no sex. If a woman made it clear she wanted me, or threw herself at me, I was permitted to have her provided we didn't sleep together. That would last until spring break, at which point I would enter the final phase, where the only rule was that I couldn't chase.

In my first stint of celibacy, a lot changed. I found myself less anxious overall, less worried about women, less worried about how I looked or presented myself (which isn't to say I became a slob, I just didn't fret over a wrinkle in my shirt before going to a party as I might have before). It was liberating. And then I failed for the first time.

My contract stipulated that if I failed, I was to withdraw from the experiment. One night I was at a friends, drinking with him and his attractive and interesting roommate. The time wore on, we all got more and more drunk, and finally, as I was leaving and my friend had already gone to bed, his roommate came down from her bedroom and said, "Dasani...you want to come upstairs and...talk?" I pondered for only a moment before telling her yes, I would like that. I wanted to see if I could hold out against temptation, which made for a differently sexy experience, of her trying to get me and me saying no and her apologizing for broaching my barriers. Interesting.

However, I relented, and we slept together. I decided to stay in The Experiment.

I failed a second time. Going to an old FBs house to drop off some books I had borrowed, I had to come in through her unlocked side door because she had not answered her phone. I found her, asleep on her bed at noon - she works the night shift - and so I crawled in next to her. She turned to me and I got a view of her near perfect breasts in a tight gray undershirt and couldn't resist. I started feeling her up, and as she got excited I told her we couldn't do anything but touch a little. And then I convinced her to get in the shower with me.

What followed was one of the most erotic, sensual experiences of my life. While my experiment had started out with celibacy, I was learning more in the realm of sexuality than I had imagined possible. I would pull her to me, roughly grabbing her breasts and whispering in her ear. She would thrust back into me and beg for me to fuck her, but in my twisted sense of loyalty to my promise to celibacy, I told her that we could only touch like this.

We showered for what must have been an hour and a half, washing each other, feeling each other. Wanting. Unable to sleep with or fool around with her, I experimented with other halfway options. I had her lie in the tub in front of me and finger herself while I watched. I tried talking dirty in a loud voice instead of my usual throaty whispers. We were both spectacularly turned on. And ultimately, I couldn't resist pushing a little further. I had her kneel in front of me while I jerked off and blew an enormous load on her face. She didn't even flinch.

I went the rest of the way to Thanksgiving without breaking again, and shortly into the second phase of The Experiment, I quit. I decided I had nothing to learn from simply denying myself sex but allowing hook ups.

As I write this and see it all in front of me, thoughts put to words, I realize just how much I did learn, and how little I know of sexuality. I'm too often complacent with just having sex, getting it over with and adding a notch to my belt. There's so much more to be enjoyed and experienced.

The Exotic Conclusion

Tonight was as I would fear it would be. Is it the fear that caused it to happen as it did? If I could operate independent of that fear, that incessant insecurity, would things have been different? These are the sorts of questions that will no doubt consume me for quite some time, but tonight, I wish to record here for posterity one valuable lesson - more for myself, but to any along the path who may also carry their own doubts.

Pickup theory is correct.

It's insulting sometimes, with my born arrogance, to think that somehow somebody outside of my experience was able to quantify in a sort of science the kind of thing that, for centuries, philosophers have called unassailable by reason. That thing is love and attraction.

I think sometimes that what I'm experiencing must somehow be different and unique from those interactions that pickup artists describe, post about and give explanation for. I think that, "Yes, this thing they say should be there is not there, but this other thing is," and I take myself to be a higher authority than those who have come before me and written the rule that I find myself comparing my experience to. I ignore the fact that by the very comparison to such a rule in my head I give validity and legitimacy to that rule.

Tonight I went on my second date with Exotic. I was planning to go dancing, but when I searched for dance places that I might be interested in and that were open on a Sunday night, I decided the pickings were slim enough that I should go with my standby date and take her to the nickel arcade. Instead I took her to this great Bar/Arcade in downtown Portland which I liked a bit better than the nickel arcade (only a quarter per game). We had a couple of drinks, played some games, it was a really fun time. She got so into the games she would play and had such a good time, I was really impressed by her and was loving her company.

When we ran out of quarters, we sat down to chat and finish our beers. I had been getting the vibe tonight, as with our last date, that she wasn't as interested in touching me as I would like. But of course I stuck with my own reasons for what was happening instead of trusting the theory. "She doesn't touch me back, yeah, and she doesn't respond to my disqualifications and SOIs the way I want or that would indicate any interest in me...but look at how she's following the conversation, it's like she's tailoring her responses so that I'll like her." We talked about losing our virginity, swapped stories, and then there was just a solid silence after we finished giggling during which we just swigged our beers and looked around a little, both at a loss.

We left the arcade and went for a walk, looking for a place to go dancing. After a short time and with no immediate luck, we both had to use the restroom so we stopped in at the first open place we saw without a cover. A classy looking bar with classical musicians on stage and a very tiny crowd. I ordered us a rum and coke to share while she went to the bathroom, then had her find us a seat on the balcony (we were the only people up there) while I went. The conversation was better, but I remembered what my previous date advisor had said about a second date, "It's time for you to lean back and let her chase a little." I had been leaning in nearly the whole time, sometimes putting my arm around her and pulling her close a little, so I just said "Fuck it, how would I behave if I didn't give a shit" and shoved my chair back away from the table, put my feet up on the railing overlooking the stage and lower seating, and leaned back. I told a couple of my better stories from the days of yore, savoring the fact that after all this time I can still rail it out in an interesting way. They're my original routines.

She was interested, laughing on cue, covering her mouth, appropriately shocked, and leaning in while I leaned back. It seemed good. I segued into us getting up and dancing (I figured, why the hell not? There's music and we're the only people up here) by talking about the scene in Rock n Rolla where Gerard Butler and whoever that woman is have an awkward dance while she tells him her plan.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kO_ZtXQBO48&feature=related

Great scene. Great idea. She seemed much more physical and interested once we had a better reason to be touching, but her hand holding was weak. After our little dance, we left. Outside I decided I wanted some investment from her, so I gave her the choice, "Exotic, you've got work tomorrow so it's up to you. I'm having a great time with you and I'm down to hang out awhile, but if you need to go home it's not a problem and I can take you." She said she wanted to stay out, so I took that as a good sign.

Walking down the road heard some pounding music coming from a building on our right. As it turns out, we had crossed around to a gay club and it was in full swing for karaoke night. We went in, and I discovered that something I truly like about Exotic was how I tend to do different things when I'm with her. Bouldering, an old people's bar with a jazz band, a different arcade and bar, a gay club for some dancing...Not all my usual fare for dates.

We went in and sat for a moment before discovering that the club was separated into two. The first bar area was for karaoke, the second area was for dancing. The dance floor was empty, the room was empty except for a few patrons sitting around. I convinced her to get up and dance with me. We danced 1-2 songs, I held her hand and walked her onto the dance floor, and as it turns out she has some experience with Salsa. It was good, but I sensed in her touch an all too friendly vibe. A desire not to be taken the wrong way.

I didn't want to admit defeat, but the feeling was slowly crawling over me. I shook it off and decided it wasn't over till it was over.

We left and I decided to take us home. When we got there, I pulled in and put on the parking brake, but left the engine running. She started talking. It felt like she was stalling, trying to spend more time in the car. If she didn't like me, wouldn't she say she had a nice time and good night, then leave? She kept repeating how good of a time she had and how she was so shocked that I was such a good guy and that she had so much fun with me, and that I was so easy to talk to. Then she said something about having heard about me before we went out. I turned off the engine and waited for her to tell me the story. She was reluctant, but basically it amounted to me having talked with her at a party a year and a half ago and saying something stupid. I had no recollection of it, and according to what her friends were saying, "I was following her around at the party" and she was talking about "but wait where's Dasani?" when her friends were ready to go. Confuse much?

I'm sitting here, waiting for her to get out of the car because I didn't think I could handle making another move without any sort of emotional indication, and yet she's stalling, telling me how great a time she had and how great a guy I was and how she never imagined it would be like this, and about how I had creeped on her a long time ago and yet she still accepted my invite on a date. My cynical part said, "She's saying all this nice stuff because she wants you to feel good about the night even though she's not into you" but another part of me said, "No, she's stalling because tonight she wants you to kiss her, and she's trying to show you an opening by saying all these nice things." I decided to meet myself halfway and called her out, "Exotic, I've had a great time with you too, I think you're adorable and absolutely endearing, but up until this moment I was writing you off as not interested, and now you're saying all this stuff and it's got me kind of confused."

I don't recall the specifics of her speech, but it was just her being nice and apologetic but telling me she isn't interested in no uncertain terms. I respect that, as much as it hurt to hear. I told her honestly that I was disappointed, but it was her choice to make.

She left shortly after and gave me a real hug. It hurts me more now to imagine that hug having had so much feeling in it, where every other touch she gave me was meant to convey nothing more than social convention and platonic friendship.

I drove away. Disappointed? Yes. Upset? Yes. By no means was I a mess or even showing visibly how hurt I was, but it was there.

The thing that gets me most, is this feels like a confirmation of one of my deepest insecurities about myself. That I will never be with a girl who I'm really attracted to. Most of the women I hook up with are cute (some aren't) but very rarely do I want to see them again, and if I do like them or like having them around, there's some glaring flaw that keeps me from wanting to get close to them (like one of my FBs, she's just so damn boring and plain, but she's a freak and has huge boobs). When I like a girl, when I'm attracted to her and I want her and I know I could find myself feeling an emotional connection to her, I don't get her.

It's become such a consistent thing that I've developed a deep insecurity about it, and if I catch myself liking a girl, or if I see a girl who I find attractive who might be interested in me, I either do something to fuck it up, do nothing at all for fearing I'll be hurt, or think everything is great and then get the lets just be friends rap.

I must confess. I am very physically attracted to Exotic, and she is a good girl and sometimes makes me laugh, but I did not find her particularly engaging conversationally. The times that were better were when things were better, I imagine if she wasn't guarding herself from showing an ounce of interest or intent that the conversation with her would be better overall, but I digress. I just don't want to put her on an overlarge pedestal in my memory as if she were flawless.

There's a history of this insecurity in this blog if you look close. Femme Fatale is an overt case. Doa is a bit more subtle and I haven't posted as much about it, Shygirl I have only mentioned a few times but am in love with and terrified of finding out she doesn't feel the same way about me, and then there's Tiny. Tiny is a girl I've only freshly named (right now, actually) but who I have a long history with that I might post sometime. At any rate, she likes me, I like her, I'm immensely attracted to her physically, but for countless contradictory nonsensical reasons, she won't sleep with me. This leads me to feel insecure in a sort of "why don't you want me?" way, which is as bad as any rejection.

That's enough for tonight. I wish things had worked out with Exotic, I wish I could get inside her head and find out where I went wrong. I wish I could get the fuck out of the friend zone and start having women see me as attractive.

In every sense that I can ask the question; will it ever be enough?

Orlando's Howard Roark - Dream

I was writing up answers to a series of questions I wrote for myself almost a year ago (the details of all of this I may share here, if any results are worth posting) and came across the question, "Who do you admire?"

Normally I'd be hard pressed to answer that question, but having just read this post by Anthony "Dream" Johnson, the answer came to me. I admire Anthony.

If you knew me, and you asked me who the greatest male role model in my life has been up to this point, I would answer that I have not had any truly significant REAL role models. Ayn Rand's fictional character, Howard Roark, is the closest thing I've ever had. As I read e-mails from Anthony, and blog posts such as the one linked above, I can't help but draw comparisons between the superhero that is Roark, and the real life man that is Anthony.

Rand describes a character who works tirelessly toward his single minded ambition - his work. A man who falls asleep at his office and wakes early, who skips meals to continue working, who cannot be broken by a society that - at every turn - challenges him and tries its damndest to destroy him.

If you take the time to read his post up above, you'll see that Anthony lives each of these things every day. You'll be amazed at the fact that this 21 year old guy is setting up two international conventions, in two countries, on two different continents, and somehow he isn't coming to pieces under the pressure. Somehow, although much of what he's going through hurts him, it only goes down to a point and all of it serves to make him stronger.

If you take the time to look at what he has created, you'll be astounded to see what a genius could only imagine on the pages of a novel in the real life person of a human man.

I don't know how many people actually read this, but every damn one of you had better check out his website, The 21 Convention. If you're curious, read a few posts, if you've got some time, watch some of the videos that he put up ALL FOR FREE and all without having to so much as sign up.

Like what you see? Support the guy and buy a ticket to the live event. The european event is here. You can also donate money on the 21 Convention website (link is at the bottom of the page). You can also purchase DVDs and other products here.

I've been to this convention three times already. I wouldn't have flown across the country the second and third time if it wasn't worth every dollar I spent and every moment of my time, each and every time I went. You can find my review of the 2009 Convention here on my blog. The 2008 convention was the reason I started this whole thing in the first place, and a speaker from '07 gave me feedback in this post.

So this is me, Dasani, taking my hat off to Dream - a guy who has balls enough to put his name to everything he does (and if you read some of the shit he pulls, you realize those balls are also made of brass) - and one of the better men you'll ever meet.