my careless contagion

It's time to embrace what I am.  If loss makes one a loser, then I am a loser. I've lost more in the last five years than I can even count. If it wasn't one thing, then it was another. Then, it was everything.  I walk around each day in a state of disbelief. I can't wait for this to finally seem real because then the real shitstorm will begin.  If trying and failing makes you a failure, then I'm a failure. I sit in a pile of it, surrounded by it, on top of it, breathing it in.  This is my legacy. There hasn't been a single thing in my life I've accomplished. Oh, wait, I'm pretty good at getting out of bed and feeling sorry for myself. Does that count? Okay, I'm not good at getting out of bed; you got me on that one.  It's starting to look like I don't even want to succeed. I want to be a failure. I want to crash and burn and scar the earth with my miserable failure of a life. Do I want to torpedo everyone around me?...

Living the life of a divorced man was something I never foresaw. Actually, being married was something I didn't foresee, as well. At this point in my life, I think I've been wandering around like a blind man most of the time. Nothing else can explain my utter cluelessness about everything.  When you get a divorce, you lose many things. Mostly, you lose the security of what you had. You lose money and things and people you thought would always be there. Men especially seem to be clueless about how to move on. Our male friendships don't support us through things like this. And, if you're a loner like me, you don't have that option anyway.  Above everything else, I miss sex. There are all kinds of sex that people can have. I just miss sex. Any kind. I'm a one woman kind of man, and I've only been with one woman. So, going out and having sex with some stranger won't work for me. I'm not built that way. The only option I have is to simply m...

    It's an odd sensation to walk through your days in a daydream state. I know my mind is just protecting itself from further trauma. If only my heart could do the same. I see that girl as a dream because she's long gone. The time I spent with her doesn't seem real anymore. My world is a drudgery that marches to the sound of a dirge. I can hear Ed Sheeran's "Perfect" slow to the pace of a waltz, then distort, then turn to static, and now I just hear the rain. It's somebody's wedding right now, and that song is playing. My heart goes out to them. What happens when all you have is love for the memory of someone but the memory keeps fading? Well, you panic. Then you have to accept it because none of us can bring anyone back once they start to fade. Somone's in the darkroom of my mind, and they didn't mix the developer right; everything's coming out light and faded. I keep telling them to get it right, but they keep...

    I grew up in small towns. I still live in a small town. In a small town, when a pretty young thing smiles at you and says hi, it doesn't mean anything. You just say hi back and go on with your day. You know it's just the way things are in a small town. If I was anyone else, they'd say hi just the same. This could be a clue as to why I was always pretty dense about girls and women (yes, some Mrs. Robinsons) who were into me. There are different levels of affection, of course, but I didn't want to explore them too deeply. Some girls wanted one thing, and some probably didn't even know they were giving off signals (I think they call those micro-expressions). The ones, however, who wouldn't take no for an answer were clearly not just saying hi. When I was in grade school, there were always crushes. It was one girl or another. And some of these girls meant business. They'd chase me until I couldn't breathe anymore on the playground, then th...

Change is inevitable. It's what I need at this moment, even though I've been through piles of it in the last few years. In the last five years, I've changed jobs, moved four times, had a child, gotten a divorce, and am staring at my hands wondering if they're even capable of whatever the next step entails. Change can come from two sources — from someone outside of yourself or from the inside (you). I've realized that the change I need probably won't come from either source, which leaves me with a few possible scenarios. One of the easiest things I can do is to continue on and consider this as good as it gets. I would have to accept everything about myself that needs to change and leave it at that. The next solution would be difficult for me because of my love affair with the truth. I would have to change my state of mind and consider myself free of defects. I wouldn't need change if I was flawless, after all. The last solution is that ...

Living alone again has taught me a few things. It's helped me to remember some things, too, like I'm not bad at taking care of myself, especially when I have enough time. I can make food. I can clean. I can shop for things. Most of my married existence was spent alone anyway, so my skills are not too rusty. Doing laundry is much simpler. It's only a load or two a week.  I can watch whatever I want to watch on TV. I've noticed that I have a hard time watching anything bloody or with a lot of swearing, though. Something in me is bothered by that. I don't know when that started. I enjoy psychological thrillers more than anything else.  Sometimes I sit in my recliner and watch Netflix in my underwear and eat my Haagen Dazs strawberry ice cream (which I think is my new favorite, supplanting pistachio gelato), and it's hard for me to think about the future. I'm simultaneously licking my spoon and licking my wounds.  Let's recount some of my rel...

These hands move over her like pleasure-seeking precision instruments. My palms sweat and glide over her hot skin. In the dim light, I watch her take in a breath and bite her lip, her face contorting in pleasure.  As I press against her body, she writhes in my hands. Her breathing quickens, she gasps, moans, groans, and then her eyes open. Our eyes inhale each other. Our minds ponder the same question. And we're hopeless in each other's arms.  Her shirt comes off, and so does mine. Somehow our flesh seems like it's on fire. When I touch her, my skin wants to stay on her. It's like I'm trying to become her.  I part her legs and lean in to kiss her. She stops me for a moment as my intentions become clear. Kissing her makes me ache. Touching her isn't enough. Our breath is hot on each other's faces and necks. I kiss her chest, her eyes, her ears, her neck, her shoulders, her fingertips. She's one big erogenous zone, and nothing is neglect...

She's seared in my mind like a brilliant sunrise, like the end of the world, like the sadness of leaving and the miracle of birth all in one brief moment. She stood before me in nothing but her black bra and underwear. I couldn't believe the creature that stood before that mirror with me. I stood behind her and told her she was beautiful. She said it was dark. I thought to myself, "Girl, you're not only perfect, but perfect should try to be you."  Her skin and her warmth are fresh in my memory. And she could lounge in her underwear with me all day, any day, any time, anywhere. My body may burn for her, but it would be worth it. If I couldn't lay a hand on her, I'd make love to her with my eyes and with my words. Maybe she'd melt for me like I melt for her.  I can't recall feeling such adoration for any woman, real or imagined. How can she cut down all of my childhood fantasies and all of my models of perfection? How can she destroy e...

Freedom winds its way around me in the wild wind. It boldly makes its way in the dark and starry nights. It saunters in the moonlight and howls for all those prisoners safe in their homes. There is freedom out there, boys, but it's not here in all this noise. Here, we are slaves and demigods. Out there are heroes and gods.  The trees are free to feel, but they cannot go. They spend their entire lives sucking dirt, holding tight, weathering storms and bugs and blight. Their strength is in staying. I admire them, but I am not like them. My strength is in going. Always going. Always gone. Always somewhere else.  Staring at this night, I can feel it calling me. Staring down this road, I can feel the pull. There is a wildness in me. For the first time in more than 20 years, I am free, utterly free. I have no master. I have no maid. I have no fear and no rules and no reason to stay. I am as free as the wind that blows right by me.  I can love that woman and ...

I'm so tired of being tired. I just want it all to end. If there's no Great Beginning and no Great Perhaps, then that's alright. I just need to lay down and not get up again. This is me walking away.  Nothing makes sense anymore; I've only tried to do what's best, what's right. I never said I was perfect. I'm sorry for my mistakes and missteps; if I could walk them back I would. I've led a pretty decent life, and it's okay to let it go. So, this is me letting go. When we broke, I broke too, and that's not like me. I don't break like this, not over a girl. But you're not just an ordinary girl. You're the girl I want. If I had done one good thing for you, maybe it would be okay. I couldn't help but ruin a beautiful thing. I couldn't help but ruin you. This is me saying I'm sorry. I'd take the pain from your eyes if I could. I'd take the pieces of your heart and mend them, even if it took me a thous...

To the man I've never met You don't know me, and I don't know you. I will never meet you. But, for all I know, we could have brushed shoulders before, walked by each other on the street or driven past each other in some small-town dusk. We breathed the same Midwest air. We probably had the same hopes and dreams for our lives. But, mostly, we had her in common – the girl you've spent your life with.  I'm glad you got the girl. I'm happy that you got to spend the best years of your life with her. I'm sure she made you happy, made your life easier, made your world complete with the babies she gave you. She made you  you  as much as you made you  you . She was the best part of your life – a living, walking, breathing gem of a woman. You were blessed beyond all men I've ever known. You had the woman of my dreams. Heck, you had the woman of any man's dreams.  It wasn't enough for you. I wonder if any woman would have been enough for you...

I wonder about that girl who touched my life in so many ways. When we started talking, she was so strong and so brave. She made me smile on the inside and the outside in so many ways. I loved talking to her more than anything else. I thought we'd go on like that. I hoped we'd go on like that. But we didn't go on like that. Sadness crept into our conversations. I noticed it slowly at first. We both talked about our personal sadness. I imagined myself holding her tight, never letting go. That's all I wanted to do. I wanted her to know that she was loved and everything would be okay. If she cried in my arms, I would kiss her neck and whisper, "I love you, and I always will." I couldn't be what I wanted to be for her. I couldn't be anything. If there was a sideline to her life, I wasn't even there. I was further away than that; I couldn't even watch, much less partake. My hands were tied. I watched helplessly as the wolves surrounded he...

Dear God, these days have drained me of all life. When I thought I couldn't go any deeper into it, I sunk down further. When I thought I couldn't lose anything else, I lost still more. Maybe thinking is what's doing me in. I guess I don't get the point, and it's not like I ever did. Maybe I just need to see the end of me so you can show me that I'm not really in control. It seems that the end is as near as I want it to be. I want to walk through the cold and cutting wind and into the forest, to sit under a tree until sleep overcomes me. And never wake up. Let the wind molest me. Let the rain fall down. Let the coyotes tear my flesh. Let the beetles and the mice clean my bones. And let the ravens scatter them. The sun will bleach my bones. My flesh will return to the earth. And all the things that perplex me, haunt me, drive me, break me, cut me, and laugh at me will cease to exist. If I lay down under this tree, maybe I w...

    *When most kids were into New Kids on the Block or Madonna, or even Milli Vanilli, my favorite musician was Steve Green. I thought he had a wonderful, God-given talent and used it accordingly. I was a kid. I could listen to the radio. But I liked Steve Green. Before my great falling away (when I was so discouraged at the age of 17), my heart burned for God. I wanted to know Him more than anything or anyone. I read my children's Bible and I loved the stories; they just came alive to me. I also struggled with so many childhood fears. Reading my Bible assured me that God had the answer to my fears. My childhood was not good, but I knew God could make the most out of my life. I read so many other books about God because our church had a wonderful bookstore. And, my mom was the most voracious reader I had ever seen, so we had a considerable library of books about the Christian walk. I thought I had a good idea of what God had planned for my life. Then a s...

Thinking about making love to anyone but her is terrifying. She's the only thing that makes sense; she's the only one I want.  Thinking about having sex with her is like running out of air in five seconds and clawing for the surface of the water so I can breathe again. Everything goes black; everything short circuits. Just imagining being in the same room with her makes my whole body burn. Imagining being with her with her clothes off makes my head spin. Imaging sex with her ... isn't possible. I'll tear down the mountains and burn down the skies. I'll set fire to every household between us. I'll shake the stars from the dark night, take the sun and set it free from its path. There is such intensity running through me, I break, I sputter, I curse and I mutter. But there is nothing to be done. I am simply spinning my wheels, wishing for something that I cannot have. I'm beginning to wonder if I've simply lost my grip on reality. I'm in lov...