Modern Romance: Licking Peanut Butter off a Floozie at 3am.

      i had never really thought about it too much, it always seemed like that beast that no man ever wanted to face, the creature in your closet or the two headed bastard with sharp teeth under your bed as you slept when you were but a wee lad.. a scary, crazy, terrible dream of some sort. anyone who's ever been there, is damn well weary to ever go back, it's filled with a crazy lust and innumerable amounts of happiness. but along with that fast paced draw, comes a slowing decline of oneself and an ever gut wrenching feeling of despair and agony, the feeling of loneliness, sorrow, resentment, and never ending self loathing no matter the outcome. i poured myself a tall glass of scotch in a coffee mug and dedicated it to the writing of this piece. here now, for the first time, i'll speak on my thoughts of love (or lack there of).
      i was laying next to her, both of us sticky, the sheets drenched with sweat and body fluids, basking in that after hard-core, passionate love making. the sex scent hung heavy in the air, and she rolled on her side, i slid my cock between her ass cheeks and nuzzled it up close to her vagina, wrapped my arms around her and clung my hand onto her firm but gentle tit. like i had done to many broads before here, but for the first time it felt like home, and i knew i should be thinking of "love" and such, but all i could think about was how much i wanted to buy a fucking fan for this room. which then lead  me to the thought of "do i really love this girl?" the answer was clear and profound, i felt all the right emotions for love, and i knew that deep down, inside, under all my bullshit, i really did love her. but that thought led me to another thought... and as the thoughts kept going and adding up (she was drifting to sleep at this time) i realized that love is nothing more than our selfishness at it's full throttle. Wide open heart pumping blood at the maximum and our brains releasing all those right chemicals. Euphoria. Nirvana. Good Scotch and Fat Pussy. i had been tricked.
      At this point, my rambling may sound like some arrogant, smart-ass, dumb prick trying to justify his lack of love for other humans, or his lack of love for himself. it is true that i do hate myself, but i think everyone should hate themselves only in an effort to strive to be better people. if i ever become satisfied with my current personality, then i hope i step out of my apartment and get hit by an armenian doing 85mph in a residential area by his Mercedes and bleed to death on the hot asphalt. i  hope that my epitaph would read: "i can't get no.. da na na na.. Satisfaction." i mean only the best, and while it may seem harsh to many of you, it works for me (at least in my fucked up rationalizing head).
      so love for me seems like a very selfish thing. why do we love in the first place? you love somebody because they're willing to go all out for you? you love somebody  because the both of you have similar thoughts and interest, and you both challenge each other? you love somebody because the sex is fucking amazing to the point where you feel close to death? you love somebody because they are beautiful inside and out? you love somebody because they are there when you need them and are willing to go the extra mile to make you happy? you love somebody because they are just as fucked up as you and that makes you feel better? why do people even really love? i don't understand it. i see it as just a way to validate your own bullshit feelings and the comfort they bring is only a way for you to live with yourself and your shitty choices? who really knows? and what the fuck does this word love really mean? fuck websters dictionary definition. i want some real gritty down to earth definitions, not something that some asshole sitting in front of a desk that hasn't had a good woman in who knows how long came up with. it's all bridge under the water. or water under the bridge. same difference.
      slowly but surely we all mature, in some mad way or another. we mature and buy new furniture and throw out the old (or put it on the sidewalk for some other wandering young rapscallion to find and enjoy). we grow out of our old clothes and buy new "hipper" clothes. our taste change. maybe when you were 18 you enjoyed getting fucked slow and nice. but at 28 you really wish someone would just thrash you around and fuck you doggy-style as the reached over and choked you slowly? i know when i was younger all i cared about was licking a girls vagina. that was my thing. vagina's are such a beautiful creature. I want to lick you. i want to chew you. i want to finger you. i want to lick you. and i also want to fuck you early into the dawn and have a severe rash on the head of my penis from the constant back and forth motion that sends messages from the nerves in the head of my penis to my brain and make me feel like conquering california, the united states, the world, the galaxy, and most importantly....... YOU.
      it's simply ridiculous to think that we can somehow dedicate ourselves to another person for our whole lives. our taste change over time and what we dig today, we sure as hell won't dig tomorrow. unless you're one of those people who are constantly happy with their situation and never want to step up to the line and spit in the face of fear. if you are one of those people, than i despise you, and if you're the kind of self-loathing, self-defecating, thoughtful people, than i pity you, because happiness and personal well being will never be yours, and while you may excel at an art and be greater than any human before you, you'll always suffer... and suffrage makes for great art (van gogh, jackson pollock, charles bukowski, johnny cash, elliot smith, bob dylan, the list goes on)
      i wanted to really get down to the grits of it. i looked at my parents. i looked at my past lovers. i looked at everything i could and in the end i came up with the same results. it was all selfish bullshit. i loved those people because they did things for me. they prolonged my life. they made me feel great. they gave me things i had never experienced before. they pushed me to be a better person and learn new things. it was all ME in the end and that, oh my dear friends, that is the worst possible thing a person can dedicate themselves to. the thought of feeling happiness at another persons service makes me fucking gag. i don't want a girl to serve me, i don't want my family to help me. i want to endure the shit on my own, and bask in the ever beautiful glory of life on my own. i want to be fucking alone to deal with the good end of life and the extremely shitty end of life.i don't want to put anybody out, and i sure as fuck don't want to rely on anyone. people change their minds every second. maybe in the next 30 frames my girlfriend will call me and tell me she's met a young handsome intellectual type and leave me, or maybe she'll call me and tell me she's pregnant (i don't trust her in terms of birth control. but i'll leave that for another time.)
       in the end, love is like a shit stain on the mattress after being black out drunk and fucking someone who you will never fuck when sober, and sure as a bat in hell won't call when you're feeling lonely. it's great in the moment, but when given much thought, it smells like bullshit a mile away. i really wish i could just sit back and enjoy the ride, but my brain is working too goddamn fast and somehow my mouth can't keep up with the shit. the head is running a mile a minute but at times i can't seem to get it out. Stephen "Fucking" Hawking over here.
       As a closer, the shot in the heart, love seems selfish.this may be just a case in point, but i also think the word love has been abused. the ultimate love, the ultimate giving of oneself to another person involves giving your life for that other person to live. and frankly, at this point in humanity, i am damn well not ready to do so. so while i may whisper into whoevers' ear that i love them dearly, i do mean it. but at the same time, i can't believe it because i can't fully give myself to you. i do though, i do want to love you. i want to love you in the sentimental way. i want to love you fully. i want to give my heart, my lung, my liver, my fucking brain in order for you to keep living. i would give it all. a finger? no problem! a hand? no sweat! any body part you need is yours. i'd give it up in a heart beat. but the ultimate question in the end, that never really has a definitive answer is this:

"Would you be willing to do the same?"

if not.. then you don't love me and i don't love you. What we have is just a chemical reaction to each others comfort and validty, and that's a sad thing to base the next 70 years of your life on.

       so breath strong and breath hard little one.. because the breath you take into yourself, may fucking well not be the breath you take back... you can't trust any of these dirty bastards.. but you have to.. it's  slippery slope and a mountain of shit.... but someone has got to do something. if not me... than i hope it's you.