Sticky Beak
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The Skinny
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...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
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The Cheese Stands Alone Well, hello again. I find myself here occasionally... sitting alone late at night, wallowing in self-pity and loneliness, wondering if anyone will ever love me and if I�ll ever find a home. I know it�s pathetic and medieval of me to feel like I need someone�s love and approval in order to feel complete, but it�s undeniable. I don�t seem to be the best judge of character, either. I mean, not that the guys I�ve stayed with are bad people - not by a long shot. They were great guys, but just not the �man� material I need; I was never a priority in their lives... at least not their number one priority. And then there were those that I let go. Those were the ones worth having; the ones who would have treated me like gold and adored me the way I would have adored them. The ones that I could picture myself growing old with. Yep, those are the ones that I didn�t keep. The same ones who still haunt my dreams and my conscience, plaguing me with this nagging sense that in discarding them, I discarded my one true chance at the kind of love and relationship I�m desperate for. It�s almost a talent that I have, fucking up. I could give seminars. Regardless of whether it�s talent, self-sabotage, poor Karma, or just bad luck one truth remains: I always hated being the cheese. That horrifying sentence of being segregated from the group as the loner... stuck in the centre of a ring of singing children, all eyes on you as they circled � round and round � hands joined, voices off-key, laughing inside at your misfortune of being selected as The Cheese. It�s right up there with choosing teams in Phys Ed... I was always the last one picked. If anyone was left after me, it was guaranteed that s/he was in Special Ed. Kids are evil creatures. This is why I don�t understand what the big deal is that I don�t want some of my own. There are hundreds � if not thousands � of reasons not to have kids, but probably number one is that I don�t want to be the person responsible for another individual�s psychosis. Can you imagine the karma involved in screwing someone up so badly s/he winds up spending a small fortune on therapy? No thanks. But I digress. No matter. I�m still sitting here alone in the dark, contemplating my existence. I�m 31 and feel as though time has run out for me. There�s something seriously wrong with that. I never would have guessed that I�d be the one left standing, waiting to be �picked� while all my friends went about their business of falling in love, marrying, birthing, and carrying on in their domestic bliss. More to the point, I suppose I never would have imagined that I�d be the one to view domestic bliss so cynically. This has got to be the influence of Sarah and Luba, the two man-eating cynics in my life. I seem to have this innate talent for training boys to move on to their next big relationship... the 'one'. What is that? And why is it that they repeatedly seem to wind up with girls who are similar to me in personality, and even looks to some degree? It's creepy. So, basically, the way I understand it is that I'm 'ok', but not quite 'it'. That's always good for the ol' ego. |