my careless contagion

This is not a joke, though some may laugh. My blog feels like a joke, but it is a place to pause and reflect or, in this case, examine. And maybe find a solution. Betty and Veronica are characters in the Archie comics universe, which I grew up with. Archie is a ginger buffoon, forever caught between competing love interests of two girls. I use the names Betty and Veronica because the girls in question have the same name. I cannot, for the life of me, choose one. It's distressing. I pushed both away at different times, and with the same result. They are unshakable, and I like them both.  Who cares, right? Bro is cooking. Here's why this matters. There is some weird, perverse voodoo with this blog, where, if I write about a woman, she often disappears. So, in order to solve the problem of having two girls interested in me (first time for everything), I will write about them and see who disappears. Call it a test. At this point, I don't care how it is resolved. I go back and f...

I have a fantasy. I’ve never done it with any woman. I know we talked about it once. I lost my nerve. Maybe because it seems so impossible.  It seems like such a simple request. It’s not kinky. It’s not even sexual. But, it has to do with everything. And with absolutely nothing. Does that make sense?  I want it to be you. I want you to be the one. Will you fulfill my wonton fantasy, my virulent desire? I longed for this. For years. Never has it seemed possible. Even now, I wonder.  No, perhaps you will laugh. Or, perhaps you won’t. My heart hangs in the balance. I decide that, even if you do laugh, you may understand enough to say yes. How can I ask? How can I explain? Maybe I will just try and see if you go along, ask as if it was a normal request. Or not say anything at all. Just do it and expect you to comply. But what if you say no?  If it was something kinky, you would say yes. If it was something that pushed the envelope, you wouldn’t bat an eye. Why am ...

Perfect by Ed Sheeran is a romantic fairytale of a song. It is beautiful. It is lyrical perfection. I imagine this song has been played thousands of times at weddings and high school dances across the world (and not just because it's a waltz). And the video — which has over 2 billion views, well — there's even a kitten in it!  I hesitate to use the word "perfect" because there is no such thing as perfection in this world. But I've used that word to describe the woman I love. I don't know if love simply blinds us to imperfections or what, but some people really do seem perfect.  During my recent visit to Nebraska, I got to hang out with the woman I am head over heels in love with. The last day, she told me I should see her as she really is without any makeup, with her hair up, and in her jammies. What did she expect me to see? I still saw the beautiful woman I'm in love with. Nothing changed for me. I'd love to wake up next to that every day. Tr...

We Don't Talk Anymore by Charlie Puth is a nice pop song. It's a well-done (even the video, which shows both sides), somewhat understated song. Puth's voice is a rarity in the pop realm. It's smooth, not grating, and embraces the notes instead of smacking them upside the head. It's an endearing approach to singing and a little bit of a breath of fresh air. I've admired his voice since the first time I heard him on the radio. Selena Gomez appears on this track. I have to admit, their voices work really well together. That's a rare thing with duet-type songs. Usually, there's a power play with duets, with one voice trying to rise above the other. I don't hear that here.  I don't listen to the radio much anymore because I don't drive that much anymore. So, I have to admit, today is the first day I've heard this song. I like it. It's not over-sexualized or gross. It's just a nice song.  So, clearly, I was attracted to this son...

It's a peculiar death, the death of a romantic. It may look like any other emotional disturbance to the average onlooker, but those who have been there know it's not your average broken heart.  There are tomes full of advice for those who dare fall in love. Throw those away, for you are a rare soul. You are a romantic. You believe against all odds. You hope against hope. You sometimes despair of life because your heart hurts so much, because it just can't reach who it wants to reach, because it lost the one person who was worth more than the world to them. The death of a romantic is heartbreaking to watch. It's like watching the first broken heart the world has ever seen. It's spectacular. And brutal. And it makes you want to scream at them to just buck up, let go, face the facts, walk away, get mad, break something, do anything but endure what they're enduring.  But they just break. They melt. Their life oozes out of them. It's like watching a pri...