I've figured it out

Here's the plan:

- Move to a new city
- Reinvent self as non-committal
- Meet nice girl
- Fool her completely into thinking I hate commitment
- Pull a fast one on her and reveal that I want to be committed to her
- Let girl believe that she changed me
- Live happily ever after

Girls, seriously, why should I have to trick you into understanding that I'm a nice guy? Admit it. A guy goes from being non-committal to only wanting to be with you and you think he's amazing and sweet and loving and caring. But as soon as a guy even suggest that he likes commitment you're immediately repulsed!

I've tried being casual. I've tried saying "you know what, whatever happens happens." But when a girl stands up through all of that and is impossible to take your attention off of through not active fault of her own, isn't that a sign that she is special? Isn't that the human version of my storybook plan?

I wish things worked like how they do in the stories. Like "I like you, you like me, let's be together." That was always my favourite story. All the trials in between were created by the union, sure, but they were all solved by devotion and commitment to it. And in the end, everything was always better than before.

Fatherhood, The New Cycle, and Unbalanced Skills

I'm not going to make a very good dad.

Sure, I'll be great when my kids are growing up, but as soon as girls enter their heads, I'm hosed. You see, I have fallen out of the old cycle and into the new cycle of gender relationships. In the old cycle, the women wanted to get married and have children and men wanted to rich and successful. The man that every girl wanted was the one that shared the girls' interests which, at the time, involved family. The rule still applies today, only girls want different things. Maybe they caught on that men were being raised to be loving, caring, and sensitive and didn't want to let things be easy for them. So, as a collective, women decided that the important things in their lives would be having a career (nothing wrong with that) and not having a family (something wrong with that).

I'll explain that last pointed remark. You're you, yeah? You like you, don't you? You wouldn't be you if you didn't exist. You wouldn't exist without being born. You wouldn't be born if you didn't have parents. Your parents wouldn't have been born without their parents. In fact, 100% of the human population that has ever lived is a result of a very long tradition of having a family. Everything in the world exists as a direct result of having a family (for without family, there would be no you or me, and without us, who would there be to enjoy the world? Not to mention there would be a severe deficiency of electric guitars). In short, my argument is that you're awesome and I want to keep the awesome train rolling.

But back to the point. Women want different things. I, however, have been equipped for the old cycle. My skills and interests include cooking, doing dishes, sewing, fixing things, appreciating loved ones, building sand castles, having children and a family that I will love the way my family has loved me. These are things I like because these are the things my dad likes/does. The things I do not like and do not want to do: dancing, going to clubs, "seeing the world before I'm 25", being the right balance of asshole to keep a girl interested, living only for myself... I'll explain all of these:

1. Dancing. I rarely fall down. I run down steep rocky terrain for fun. I can navigate the iciest streets without losing my cool. If I had to choose between being able to command my feet to move in an attractive fashion to the sound of music or be able to trust my feet never to let me down (ba-dum tish), I would choose, and have chosen, the latter. I like listening to music, but it doesn't make me want to wave my arms in the air like I just don't care. I do care. I reserve grace for preventing personal injury, not for wooing girls (though, if I had known it would be such a big thing, I probably would have traded. Somehow girls can adore a klutz that can shake it on the dancefloor, but a man that you can trust will never let you fall in the icy streets isn't worth a second glance.)
2. Going to clubs. It's like drill camp for beginner dancers. Here's a beat. Dance. Do it. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again. I don't know where the line is between doing the same move over and over again and acting like you're having a seizure is. Yeah, I know, no one cares how you look. But if you were to, say, trip up the stairs at school, no one would care. You'd still be embarrassed. Club logic fails. Also, you can't get to know someone at a club further than the observation of how she acts at a club.
3. Seeing the world before I'm 25. I'm 22. I have $600 to my name. So, first of all, I can't afford it, and would rather save for a house or a car than say, "I saw Thailand, too!" Not to mention the fact that there is so much to experience at home. What about love and making a place you call home? What happened to finding your place in the world? Why do we feel the need to travel to places with big spiders when you could vacation in Europe occasionally when you're 40? 40, when you can afford a nice meal, a decent hotel, maybe rent a car and see the world on your terms. Sure, you have to come back to your job and the real world, but look at it this way: you come back to a job and the real world. That's called security. I've never understood peoples' fear of security.
4. Asshole. I'll never get it. Sometimes I hate clichés, but when it comes to nice guys and women, they are all so very true.
5. Living for myself. I've never been good at this. Living for me is what I call surviving. Getting by. What's the point of being happy alone? You will die and your happiness will die with you. Your existence on Earth is a moot point unless you do something that benefits all of mankind. If you don't make it into a grade school history textbook, your contribution to society could have been made by any one else. This is sounding very bleak, but that's what I imagine life alone to be. Where's your mark? If you love, you leave your impression on the world with the person you love. If you have children, you live forever through your lineage. Your importance to the world grows exponentially as your children love and your children's children love. So it's not me that is important. It is the person I love that is important. She is worth going to work each day for. She is worth eating properly. She is worth exercise and everything else I "should do for me." If my life doesn't affect anyone, why should I take care of myself? I'm going to end up in the same place.

Where was I? Oh yes, skills. I have husband skills (not to be confused with husbandry, of which I know little). I don't have... uh, attract the ladies skills. It's like being a fully licensed scuba diving deep sea treasure hunter without knowing how to swim. Once I'm down there scubaing I'm okay. It's just getting there that's the problem.

And with absolutely no knowledge or advice in the "be a dick, learn to dance, see the world, don't have a family" department, I'm really not going to be able to equip my kids with the tools to attract girls. I really hope girls change in their 30s.

Maybe if all my children were girls I wouldn't have to worry about it.

Exorcise equipment

1. The body of something once breathing
   
2. Salt
   
3. Alcohol
4. Rainwater
5. Infra-red radiation
   
6. At least two of the following pieces of a woman:
• Eyes
• Heart
• Hands
• Lips
• Skin
  
7. Strings
8. Brass
9. Time
   
10. An angel
11. A friend
    

Destruction, Role Reversals, and Choices

These are actually examples of things that aren't wrong with the world. These are the things that make life difficult, but ultimately worth living be it for creation of life, appreciation of life, or simply being life.

Part 1

I drove down to Lethbridge this weekend; about a two hour drive. The weather warnings were extreme in the morning, but had diminished by the time I left. None the less, I found cars spun out in the ditch, one car on its roof with an exit trail probably a full 30° from the road (in case you don't think in trajectories, that means it was going over 50% as fast sideways as it was going forward along the road, or exactly 50% of its speed [no vector {direction}] was in a vector perpendicular to the road. tl;dr it went sideways fast), and finally, the worst of them all, I saw a horse trailer on its side. Firetrucks, ambulances, police cruisers, all sorts of emergency crews... two lanes of traffic were forced around onto the shoulder to sneak by directed by no less than 4 traffic coordinators. I couldn't even bear to confirm my suspicions.

But I thought to myself what a terrible thing that man has done. We cage an animal and, due to weather it would otherwise survive, we kill it. Cows, pigs, sheep, chickens... they all die for me to eat and probably eat better than I rightfully should (for I have not cared for nor have I bested these animals). And I suppose logically a horse is no different. It's life should hold no extra value to us than the lives of such a multitude of similar animals. But somehow it stands for something. Horses represent freedom, hopes, dreams, pride and other things that are hard to draw. And we have killed it.

I begin to wonder if I am man and life is nature. Man seeks to control nature. Nature cannot be controlled. And sometimes they collide and horses, dreams, can be killed. Life is happening. Can I control it? Could I not even if I wanted to?

I drive into Lethbridge. Too many cars in front of the house to park. I park down the street. The frozen body of a rabbit lies belly up in the gutter ahead.

She used to point out rabbits in the hills. Now here it is in front of me. Adorable. Dead.

Perhaps another metaphor; stronger than the first. Closer to her, not me. That's what it's about after all.

Part 2

The night plays out; a hilarious mix of people new and old coming and going. Life is happening here. This isn't what I came for, but it's more fun than I thought. This isn't why we come; not the real reason.

And there's the revelation. "We."

I don't know what I thought of girls before they held my affection. I probably saw them as people, only more different people than us boys. But soon they started to stick out. There was always a girl. There was always one that I thought was more than the rest of them. And I built up that philosophy for years. The One. Every girl is special, and, in my case, every new girl must be the One.

I've finally came to realize that in my experience, girls are all the same, just like they say. I was the one who was different. I was the one who cared when no other guy did. I was the guy who brought flowers and went shopping and looked at jewelry and told her that she was beautiful all the time. I was the one who wanted to have kids and simultaneously wanted to do whatever he had to to financially provide for his family (which I wanted while we was still young) and wanted to stay home with the kids so she could pursue her career. I was the one who said, "I'm sorry," when I was wrong. I'm the one who said, "I love you," every chance I could. She told me I was the most amazing guy she had ever met and that we were forever.

I realize that there are some things you just say, sometimes for no other reason than that it sounds nice. But it can't all be bullshit. There must have been something special about me. I stood out. This is exactly doubled by the fact that I have never asked a girl out on a date in my life...oh, wait, no, yes, I did once. I got a "no." However, that being said, there is a far greater number of girls who have made the moves on me. So there has to be something. And it certainly isn't my face, my body, my brains, my wit, or my charm. It's just something.

Then there's this girl. She's got it, too. All girls are the same... except her. She is undoubtedly unlike any girl I have ever known or ever will again. And suddenly I'm just another boy falling at her feet. And it's strange being on the other side of that scenario.

Perhaps I broke my role first. Maybe it's part of the new me. Is that new me really the me I want to be?

Part 1, Side 2

I drive back home the next day.

I left her different this time. No difficult screen doors to open. The wind was colder than usual. I drive away regretting it.

Broken fences, broken rails, broken signs. This weather did a number on things. The sign that told me to exit is half over. Do I look for signs not to exit, or does this mean that the signs will be gone, but the choice still must be made? More questions for later.

The fences are made by man. Some fences are broken by men; others are broken by nature itself. What are these fences? Do they separate us from being together, or do they keep us from being exposed? Man will rebuild these fences. Should I? Nature brought them down.

A train derailed. Me. Another moves backwards. Me, again. Are these the choices of who I can be? I saw no other trains. Perhaps they are simply beyond what I can see.

Part 3

Who am I? Who do I choose to become? Do I remain extraordinary among girls whom are all the same, or do I become ordinary chasing after the one girl like no other?

I am derailed; another version of me. Do I drive backwards? Pick up from a time once passed? Am I then doomed to tread the same ground only to end up in the same place again, and later, the place where I cannot see? Do I press on to the unforeseeable future?

What do these fences, these barriers, mean? What do they mean to me? What do they mean to her? Do I build them up, or watch them burn?

Maybe they represent an inquantitative distance. I seem to hear my own advice.

Leave. Don't come back until the feelings go away. The girls hate it, but it's the only way.

Hope is a funny thing. Sometimes hopelessness can make you feel better.

Did hope die this weekend? I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to look.