Palo Alto, CA. 78 deg. Warm. Dry. Blue skies.
I’m 222 lbs, 12% bf, leaner and bigger than I was three months ago, due to regular meal planning and intense exercise.
The business is growing strong. We’ve increased sales by 100% month to month from last year. The CRM is fully up and running, and the QB/ accounting integration has been slow, with many delays in recent weeks, but inching along nonetheless. My only concern is product development. We have a new product releasing in August, but otherwise there’s nothing definitive on the schedule. We have two products in the works, but they’re still in the concept stage, and no word on when they’ll be finalized. I want six new products by the years end.
I am restless, as per usual. A feature of my experience that I have accepted as permanent, and totally unrelated to my fulfillment.
Am I fulfilled? Yes. Am I restless? Yes. Always.
Patience is a game that I am inconsistent with.
There are chapters of your life you just want over, simply because you want to move on. Emotional chapters. Chapters involving relationships. They may not ever feel “over”, but sometimes you must let go. It’s hard. But nothing in life that’s worthwhile is easy.
I’ve been trying to detox from social media, but mundane thoughts, and fix my focus on the goals before me. Sometimes its not always obvious what to do, but you need to do something, need to act towards something.
Stop pretending. I can spot a pretender. Stop talking. Talkers are not doers. Don’t talk a game you can’t play well.
I recently stopped putting effort into online relationships. Perhaps my ego was scratched sufficiently. I go on 2-3 dates a week, and sleep with 1-2 of them while I’m at it. I’m sure this makes me sound like a whore, and perhaps I am, but I assure you this all happens very naturally, with no predatory instinct. I like to think people feel very comfortable with me, so long as I’m comfortable with myself. My problem has always been… me.
It’s exhausting to invest into 5-6 girls at a time. I’d rather… not. And the reason you keep up with so many is that it happens in due time. You ought not sure things. It gives the wrong impression. And you don’t want to be too invested in any one person. Mostly because, historically speaking, people are disappointing. Or at least, its easy for me to fall out of attraction with them.
I am, however, still speaking with this adorable little blonde in Texas. She found me on social media and sent me a message. She’s a perfect little thing. Twenty seven years old, maybe 5’2 and change, blonde hair, blue eyes, the most angelic little face, and a whole 95lbs soaking wet. The caveat however (and there are several) is that she has two children, a one year old girl and a six year old boy, and she’s a devout christian, as most Texans are. The first time she had sex at 17 she gets pregnant, and the next relationship she’s in six years later she gets pregnant again. She married them both because she thought it was the right thing to do, and divorced them both because, according to her, they were boys, and not men, not responsible or mature enough to man up to their duties. So she’s left raising her two children while living at home with her well to do parents. But she’s an actress and a model. Mostly an actress, having appeared in several films and television series and documentaries.
She’s just about perfect otherwise. Or at least, that’s the way she’s sold herself to me. It is alarming, however, that she’s already bombarded me with naked pictures two weeks into speaking. She’s very turned on by me, according to her. The man of her dreams. And she very well may be the woman of my dreams.
I cannot take care of her, however. At least not now. And I explained my life is in Northern California, with my business.
My ex reached out to me yesterday, via some text app. I deleted the text. This is a girl I will very well love forever, or at least that’s the way it feels. But it’s better to close that chapter of my life, and never return. Does the thought of never seeing or speaking with her again pain me? Yes. And why? Because there is some wild hope that she is someone she is not, that she’s capable of being something that aligns with my mind’s eye of a good partner. While I can imagine a healthy relationship, because there are always more good days than bad, it is the bad times that make me lose all hope, because it is the bad times that reveal how off base I am about this person, how wrong I am about her internal stability and character. She has nothing to offer me. She has nothing going for herself. The sex and the company are what draws me back time and time again. Our mutual interests, the activities we enjoy together, the passionate sex we have. But other than that, she has nothing to offer. Lies. Deceit. Deception. No college education. No real career. No stability. Infidelity. The list goes on. It is not my job to fix her. Not my job to put the pieces back together. Not my job to heal her. That is only for her. And the toll it takes on me emotionally is too much to bear. The tax to my health is far too great. It inhibits my ability to excel, to live a fulfilled life. She requires too much maintenance, too much attention. And perhaps this is why I love her, but… of course we love that which kills us. Alas. I wish she’d leave me be for good. The pain of never seeing her again would save me from years of turmoil. And I could get on with fostering a relationship with someone more compatible, who supports me, who lifts me up.
I wish to read more, and write more. I’ve been reading Michel de Montaigne’s essays. They contain little insights and nuggets of wisdom. I should get into the habit of retaining these nuggets and writing them down.
Whenever I have down time, I need to train myself to write, to reflect. Not just… find social outlets, and stimulate myself with pictures, or online dating… or dithyrambics to anyone who will listen.
I had a date with a Fulbright Scholar last night. She’s getting her Phd in anthropology from Stanford. She’s quite an intellectual. And like most intellectual, she’s got quite the ego. I found it simultaneously attractive, and frustrating. We kissed and groped each other after we said our goodbye’s.
Last week I met with a lawyer who was into the kinkiest of shit. After our first encounter, after some kinky sex, she laid on my chest, and stroked my chest hair, and revealed that she was afraid. Of what, I asked? That I would hurt her, that she liked me, a lot.
And you can guess what happened. Like a self fulfilling prophecy, the insecurities lubricated my exit out of that relationship after our second encounter. I hate the stench of insecurity. It means we are not equal. Get a grip, and rid yourself of those vulgar revelations of weakness.
My date on Saturday went well. She was a sexual creature, as most of these women are, and after our afternoon hike we engaged in serious foreplay before winding down and holding each other. Our breaths were deep, and the passion was strong, which heighted the senses to climactic peaks. She was 5’2, and a blue collar girl who escaped poverty through education and hard work. She held a senior operations management level position, and was responsible for running a mid size manufacturing company. Her blue collar class could not be hidden, however, and it was a turn off, despite how sexy petite and well formed body felt in my hands. She was a smoker, something that she hid from me, and has since caused me to pull back. I loath smoking, and I loath the shame associated, and the tendency to hide it from me. We still haven’t spoke about it.
All the other girls I just… stopped responding to. Too much effort.
I need to write more often. There are so many thoughts that I haven’t fully articulated. So many feelings lurking beneath this experience that have yet to be scratched and expunged. More convoluted opinions, more repressed thoughts.