Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

BurgStrong: a campaign of love

June 7, 2014

Hi guys,

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted here, but with good reason.
The last 6-8 months have been the most insane time of my life.

I couldn’t possible explain what I’ve been through, but if you’ve been following details on my official writers page over on Facebook, you may have an idea.

The reason I’m back though, is because I need your help to tell the next chapter in my life, and help me find a way to the love of my life.

I’m working on getting to her permanently, but for now, I just need the chance to spend some time with her.

I’d like to share my story with you though, and ask if you believe in love to try make a small contribution to my below campaign. If not, please at least try spread the news to your friends, colleagues and fellow bloggers..

The story will break your heart, but also make you believe in love again, and if that’s not with sharing, then what is right?

Thanks everyone

Burg

Cut From The Heart: Episode 7 – The Writer…No, Not That One, The Other One

November 19, 2013

There haven’t been many times in my life where I’ve met someone who I can connect with on another level in terms of personality, humour, views on life etc. So it always saddens me when I do and then they suddenly disappear on me, only to resurface years later with a whole new life. This was such a story…

Bonus Story #7: The Writer…No, Not That One, The Other One
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During my time in the magazine industry, I met some great people, and one of my favourite persons I only got to know once I had left. The year was about 2006.

We had worked together briefly, and always gotten along, she had a breezy vibe about her, the sort of vibe that made you instantly at easy and comfortable.

At this point we had both moved on from our jobs though, and just less than a year after I had left, we starting chatting again on Facebook, instantly got on and decided hey, let’s meet up again.

I was a bit nervous about doing it because I was going through my personal hell year, and couldn’t really afford to wine and dine her or do anything too fancy.

Thankfully she was a pizza kinda of girl, which fit my non-existent budget to a tee.

I spent the whole day nervous about was this a date or not (as is common practice with me), and didn’t want to assume too much, but I really hoped it was one.

The hours of course, took days to pass, but eventually our time arrived.

We met at a pizzeria just a few blocks up from my work, and as luck would have it, this was no ordinary pizzeria, it had tables and candlelight which screamed date to me.

She arrived and immediately greeted me with a comforting hug that was simply part of her breeziness.

The night passed all too quickly, but the conversation that night was revealing, intimate, honest and hopeful. I will never forget her last words of the conversation – “I can’t believe there has been this amazing, wonderful, honest person in front of me all this time”….

Oh yeah…being myself had finally paid off.

As night’s do, they come to an end, she kissed me goodbye and said we must definitely do this again soon.
Hell yeah! You don’t have to ask me twice.

If that was a date, it was pretty much a 10. The first actual date I had had in a very long time, and it went near perfect. It might also actually be the last date I was on. Well, at least where we both considered it a date.

Then…. my attempts to setup a follow up date were in vain. The excuses started slowly, till the point where any attempt I made to contact her were met with silence.

It seemed like she had disappeared completely…eventually I got the dreaded Facebook deletion.
How did I mess this one up?? I’m still not sure to this day. It just stopped. Ended. Ceased to exist.

A few years later she added me on Facebook again, this time, with a new surname and baby boy. She seems to have been through testing times, but ultimately she seems happy, so how can I be upset with that?

We haven’t chatted in a long time now, and I follow her work on social media …but not one mention has ever come of that night she had that amazing guy sitting right in front of her.

If you’re enjoying this series of postings and are looking forward to my upcoming book, please visit me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter @theburg

Cut From The Heart: Episode 6 – The Drunk Dial

November 18, 2013

This following sorry was one of the last stories I decided to cut from the book, I liked how everything played out, but ultimately I just felt because of how things ended it wouldn’t bring much to the overall journey of the book. That however doesn’t mean I won’t always wonder what might have happened if I ever got a chance with the story I like to refer to as:

Bonus Story #6: The Drunk Dialer

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Over the years, I was lucky enough to act in several movies and do some extra work in tv shows and commercials, a lot of those experiences I cover in my book, but I did take a break from it all for a couple of years. In the middle of 2012 I got the chance to do some extra work for a commercial for a well known reality show. It wasn’t anything that would rocket me to the fame moon, but it did give me the chance to work with some old friends and just enjoy being in front of the camera again.

When I’m in set, I always seem to light up and become more myself, the funny charming guy who has no problem flirting with makeup artists, producers and other cast members.

This was no exception.

It was just a one day shoot for me, so I didn’t have much time to really get to know anyone, but there where one or two ladies that caught my eye. The one I chatted to quite a bit, and the other was a very business like lady who was from the creative agency. We said nothing more that hello. But I really couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Thankfully after my scene was filmed I was told I’d be needed for the final scene of the day as well. As the crew setup the shot and waited for the sun to set, I pulled out all my best “cool guy” material. She laughed, but I was never sure if it was at my jokes, or the guy behind me dressed in a gorilla suit.

We wrapped up fairly quickly after that, and before I knew it, she was gone. I casually tried asking some indirect questions to see if anyone knew her name, but alas nobody did. I thought that would be the end of of.

But by now, I think you’ve figured out my stories are never over that quickly…

As luck would have it, a few days later I was told there was a problem with my footage and it would need to be redone. Not only would I get paid for an extra day, but I’d have a chance of seeing the mystery woman again.

I deliberately arrived on set extra early that day, made obvious by everyone saying “we won’t need you for a bit if you’d prefer to come back later”…I’m a patient guy so I just hung out in here green room. And by green, I just mean the table in the cafeteria where the other actors (and their moms) were.

Eventually she showed up. We exchanged pleasantries and that was it. The whole day I kept trying to find a way to engage in conversation, but we never did, she was in work mode the entire time, except this time instead of heels she was wearing pink sneakers. It was after all, a Saturday. But she was still just as beautiful.

After we wrapped I left feeling slightly defeated. But, I never, ever give up.
I hit the internet trying to find any clue as to what her name might be. She wasn’t on any of the call sheets, but the name of the advertising firm was. So I started there, and began searching employee profiles on social networks, going through their friends to see if I recognized any of the pictures (yes, not unlike a witness trying to find a killer at the police station) , news articles, pictures from company events. Anything that would give me a clue to her name.

Now one thing my book will teach you is, I am gooood at this. Even before the days of Google. If someone existed. I would find them.

And I did. Of all things I found a picture of her on a football fan club page from some function, which had her first name listed below.

The rest was easy, and I emailed her some lame email asking how the rest of the shoot went and when we could see the final product. We began emailing back and forth, and I could tell she was very guarded in her replies. Understandably so.

As I worked at melting the ice, I eventually found my way through by talking soccer, as we supported opposing teams. So the traditional football banter began.

As her phone number was listed on her email signature I thought it was fair game and added her to a chat program called Whatsapp.

Come game day we began chatting footy, and eventually I felt comfortable to start flirting. I invited her out to coffee, which she turned down because of her busy schedule. So I took the hint. And invited her out to milkshakes instead. Nobody can resist that.

The more we chatted, the more she revealed. That she had a son, and I she couldn’t understand why I’d want to get involved in all that baggage. Now let me make one think clear, I do not consider children baggage. I never have and never will. They are no baggage, they are a package.

In fact, my attraction is not diminished by race, religion, age, children or even history of mental illness. This is not necessarily a good thing. (Especially the last one), as it’s often made things more complicated. I just happen to be more attracted to women of Indian decent. I always have been, and always will be. That is a preference, not a determining factor.

Anyways, where were we. Oh right, mental illness.
Mmm. No wait, sorry.

We began talking more often, and more casually now, it was hard work but she was eventually even occasionally messaging me first. Not often, but often enough to think maybe she was actually thinking about me. She talked about how her day was and how she wished she didn’t have to go out with clients in the evenings. She would even send me pictures of what she was going to wear for the evening.

We spoke about out jobs, and she mentioned that they were looking for someone and I should apply. I had just started a new job and didn’t plan on leaving so soon, but I thought I could at least see what they had to offer. So I sent it. That was a Friday.

On the Saturday, we spoke a lot on chat. All day. Then in the evening she was feeling depressed after a hard week of work. I did what I would always do and helped build her up. Eventually her responses were becoming more and more illegible. She did like her evening wine, and this night she was clearly enjoying it. We kept flirting via text…and then…at about midnight…

Ring. Ring. (Ok my phone is on silent, so it only vibrates)

Vbbbbbrrrrr. Vbbbbbrrrrr.

She was calling me.

I answered. Her first words were something along the lines of
“What do you want. I don’t understand why a guy like you would want to get involved with a woman with a kid who has no time for her own life”

I told her not to overthink things (rich coming from me!) and to just enjoy what was going on.
She told me I was so wise and always said the right thing. I am. And, I do.

This call went in for about and hour, between the slurring of the words and the clanging of the glass against the phone, I only actually understood about 25% of the conversation.

Then she said, she was going to take a shower but expected me to call her back in 10min.
I said ok cool, and we ended the call.

Then, I realized I didn’t have airtime in my phone. And I happened to be broken than broke that night so couldn’t even top up.

It was a horrible feeling. And I message her some lame excuse about how my phone was giving trouble and we’d have to chat in the morning.

On the Sunday morning I got an email from her.
Thanking me for applying for the position within the company, but unfortunately they won’t be considering my application at this time.

A few weeks went by before we chatting again, it was awkward and whatever magic was there before, was gone. I tried reigniting it, but she didn’t give me an inch. Even casual conversation wasn’t all that casual.

She sent me some message about how some big black guy was harassing her at the office and her brother was there to calm her down. Then just like that, she changed her phone number.

About a year later we chatted on Facebook, she was concerned about some messages I had been posting (more on that in my book), and suggested I stop as it could have an impact on my professional career in the future. Then she asked me if I needed some professional help. Then she deleted me.

And that’s how it ended. Much ado about nothing in the end, but that nothing was hard work. Perhaps if she just said yes to a milkshake, we would of seen if there was really anything there.

Cut From The Heart: Episode 5 – The Hot Train Girl Diaries

November 17, 2013

So here’s a little scoop for you all. The title of my book was originally going to be called The Hot Train Girl Diaries.

Over the last year, I’d met a few girls on my morning train I found myself attracted to. In fact, there were 4 in total.

I affectionately referred to them as

Hot Train Girl #1
Hot Train Girl #2
Hot Train Girl #3
And
Hot Train Girl Original.

Here’s another scoop for you.
My book starts with the story of Hot Train Girl #2, and sets off a series of events that would go on to change everything about me.

For now however, I would like to share the story of Hot Train Girl #1 with you, in what I shall call:

Bonus Story #5: The Hot Train Girl Diaries – Book 1

It was February 2013 and I’d been taking the train for about a year. As I mentioned, I’d seen a number of girls on the train I was attracted to, and since Valentines Day was coming up, I thought, what the hell, let me do something typically me and give gesture or romance to them.

Now, its not a given than I would see any of them on that day as we sometimes take different trains. I thought I would play it by ear, and if I saw someone either in the morning or the evening, I would write a Valentines day poem and give it to them.

I had these little plastic eggs that came with the old Kinder joy chocolate eggs, so my plan was to write the poem, fold it up in the egg and give it to the girl to open up at work.

That day, when I got to the train station, I saw HTG#1 get on the train, so I sat a few cars back and wrote my poem to give to her when we got off.

I came up with:
“There once was a girl on the train
Who from admiring I could not refrain.
She had style, she had grace
She had beauty upon her face
I can only hope tomorrow I’ll see her again.
Happy Valentines Day”

Not bad I thought, so when we got to our destination, I time my walk so that I met her on the escalator.

Awkwardly, I said I’d like to give her something, and I proceeded to hand her the egg.

I could see she was a bit taken aback, so I quickly reassured her by saying
“Don’t worry it’s not Anthrax or anything like that”.

Yup. I attempted to reassure her that my mysterious egg was not a toxic powder.

That same day I saw her in the mall. When she saw me, she literally dived into the closest store to avoid me. I pretended I didn’t notice, so she thought she got away with it. But I felt so horrible.

Over the next few months, we didn’t speak again, but as we almost always parked next to each other in the parking lot, we did exchange a smile near daily.

Conversation didn’t happen a lot, but in passing, I did promise her that one day we’d have a proper conversation. She said cool.

We would also see each other in the mall where I working during lunch time. In fact, one time, I met my friend for lunch, and she arrived with her baby in tow. As I kissed her hello and greeted her boy, HTG#1 walked past and saw this. I immediately wanted to say, I promise this is not what it looks like! You know, just in case she thought otherwise.

The exchanged smiles became less often.

Now, to my credit, one thing about me is, I notice the smallest changes a girl makes to herself. Such as changing their hair subtlety, or when they are wearing something new for the first time. Its just a case of paying attention to people.

So one morning, I noticed HTG#2’s hair was different, so I went up to her and said her hair looks nice.

She replied with a laugh and said “Yeah, we start fasting tomorrow so I haven’t washed my hair, but thanks”.

Yup, a smooth follow up after the anthrax.

The next day she started Eid. (Yes, she was a muslim Indian girl).

For about a month I didn’t see her. In fact, I didn’t even see her car.

Then suddenly, her car was back! That evening on my way home, I thought if her car is still there, I was going to leave her a note saying I hope she had a good Eid and I was glad she was bad.

I sat in my car in the parking lot, wrote the note and then went and put it in the side of her window. It was such a windy evening, I was worried the note would blow away, but I chanced it anyways. At the end of my note I included my email address.

The next day I was nervous what she might say about my note. But I didn’t see her. As I came home that evening, I walked past where her car was just 24hrs ago. And what did I see…a crumpled up piece of paper in the flower bed.

I thought to myself, surely she wasn’t a litter bug…so it couldn’t possible be my note.

I drove out the parking lot, as this ate away at me…I turned around the car and drove back. I went back to the parking and went to go pick up the piece of paper.

It was a Mcdonald’s receipt for a happy meal and a milkshake.

Later in that week however, I did see her. And we spoke. We spoke a lot, about our jobs; she worked in the same centre as me at a clothing store. We spoke about travel as I was going overseas soon. And of course, I asked her if she got my note. She said no, and suggested maybe the wind blew it away. I knew it. Dammit.

Anyways, she told me she had an interview for a new job at the airport the next day. I felt sad that I may not be seeing her again.

That day I was anxious to know how the interview went. I casually walked past her store a few times, in the hopes of bumping into her, but never did.

However, that evening I saw her car, so again I reverted to the note on the car idea. I wrote a note asking how the interview went, and wished her luck for the outcome. Again I included my contact details.

That night I sat waiting for a message from her. Foolishly so, I know, but I lived in hope.

I saw her once or twice after that on the train, and gathered that she had changed her parking spot. Till eventually I didn’t see her at all.

I went overseas at the end of October, and haven’t seen her since I returned. I assume she got the job she interviewed for.

Through all this, I still don’t even know her name.

Cut From The Heart: Episode 4 – The Too Much Makeup Girl

November 16, 2013

As we continue this build up to my book, I’ve been making the very difficult decision as to which stories to cut from the final version. As I share them here with you all, I find myself wondering what the actual criteria for removing them is.

I guess ultimately, its about finding a balance. Fine tuning the flow of my life. All of these stories I share here are by no means less important, and the girls I mention in these stories will always form an important part of who I am. (Good or bad).

Back during my IT days, I working for a little company called Microsoft. Now in my book there are some major stories that come out of these days, but there were also lesser known stories that very few people knew of. I’d like to share on of those with you now.

Bonus Story #4: The Too Much Makeup Girl

By 2002 I had resigned myself to the fact that I may die working in a call centre. The only positives about being in IT for the last 5 years was that I had made some close friends, and I was making some decent money. But, I was not happy, this was never what I was meant to be doing with my life.

Career wise, MS was not the highlight of my life. For the most part however, I was well liked. From my quirky dress sense to my humour, it was easy to get along with everyone, from every department. From the strictest of bosses to the bitchiest of bitches, I was sorta the one guy who managed to be friends with everyone…well until the day I got fired, but that epic story is covered in my book.

There were several departments within the company and we as the helpdesk didn’t have much interaction with the other employees. There was however one girl in particular that used to come through our offices occasionally to visit a friend.

She was a petite indian girl, who was sexy as hell. None of the guys ever spoke to her, maybe out of intimidation, or maybe just assuming she would never be interested in us plebs.

The guys would always say how she wore too much makeup, as if justifying their reason why they never approached her. Perhaps she did, but I felt she wore that much makeup as compensation for low self confidence.

We changed office buildings several times during my stay at the company, and by the final move during my time there, her and I had actually started talking. She would greet me everytime she saw me and we’d have a random conversation, till eventually we started emailing each other.

Some of the guys were like “you’re the man Burg!”, but for me, it was just about getting to know someone.

Surprisingly, she happened to be single at the time, however, it was a recent thing as she had confided she had split from an abusive boyfriend.

I wondered if all that make up had actually been a cover up for something more heartbreaking.

I took my time with her, and helped build her confidence back up, she deserved better, and I promised her nothing left.

Eventually I had the courage to ask her out to coffee one Saturday, making it clear it was a date, and she actually said yes!

As the day approached, in part paranoia and part previous experience, I grew doubtful this was actually going to happen. So on the Friday night I confirmed she was still on for the next day, she replied of course! And I went to bed almost as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve.

The next morning I shaved, got dressed up, and in my excitement headed out an hour early to our agreed coffee shop at the East Rand Mall, which was halfway for both of us.

As I say, I got there early, so I had to kill and hour walking around.

Eventually at 2pm, I made my way to the coffee shop and got a table. I texted her and said I was there. She replied with “on my way, might be a bit late”.

She was 5 min late.
Then 15 min late.
Then 30 min late.
Then an hour late.

So I texted her again, asking if everything was ok.
She didn’t reply.

Foolishly, I waited another hour. And I could tell the waiters had noticed I had been stood up. So I casually asked for the bill and made my way home, not before having the world longest pee because of all the coffee I consumed in 3 hours.

As I got home, I got a message from her. She apologized and said she just couldn’t do it.

I was confused, hurting, but never once showed any anger towards her. Instead I said I understand, and hoped we could reschedule. It was one of the few times I actually cried tears of disappointment.

When Monday came, our emails were suddenly awkward. She never came down and visited anymore.

In fact, our communication came to a sudden and bizarre end.

A few months later, she was pregnant.
Then I heard she and her boyfriend were back together.
Then I heard the boyfriend killed himself.

A short while after that my time there came to an end.

The whole experience was very confusing and painful. And as of today, I don’t know whatever became of her.

But I do think back to that time often, and wonder what might have been different if she showed up that day for coffee.

Vote for the title of my upcoming book!

November 10, 2013

Hi guys

I’ve finally narrowed down the choice of my book title to the final 5. But I need your help!
Please visit http://www.facebook.com/ShaunMyburgWrites and vote for your favorite!

As always thanks for the support
Burg

Burg. Writer

November 6, 2013

Hey everyone, as this travel blog has come to an end for a while, I’d like to encourage you to follow me on my next adventure, as I prepare to finish my first ever book, and get it out there for everyone to read.

If you’ve enjoyed these posts, my book is full of many similar adventures, mishaps and heartbreakingly humorous situations.

Hopefully you have a facebook account, because you can like my official page here http://www.facebook.com/shaunmyburgwrites and I’ll be revealing the premise of the book when I hit 50 likes!

Thank you for the support, we’ve only just begun!

Burg

To All Things An End – My Final Blog

October 18, 2012

Over three years of my life
Over 150 posts
Over 500 comments
Over 130,000 views.

Not bad for a guy sitting in his room in Kempton Park, South Africa, writing his little blog.

I say these stats with pride, because I worked hard at the blog, I tried to make it something different to what’s out there, and I hope I achieved that in some small way.

I’ve shared EVERYTHING. Good and bad, tragic and triumphant. I’ve made enemies, I’ve lost friends, and I’ve gained respect and thanks. All because of the words I chose to use.

I’ve always said I was blogging before blogging was a word, which is partly the reason I have decided to call it a day as far as being a blogger is concerned. I have shared every aspect of my life with people, left no stone unturned, and this was bound to lead me to this point. Where I feel I have nothing left to write about. This is not a sudden decision,  as the thought has been in my head for a while to end it. I think my birthday last week left me with a sense of its ok to let it go.

After each blog I was left more and more drained, and the pressure I put on myself to come up with something new to write about was immense, and it should never be that way.

I love being a writer. It’s what I am. However, now I feel like it is time to let go of this blog and move onto other types of writing. More creative story telling I guess, I will certainly maintain my style in other projects I pursue, and will always look back fondly at this blog as something that added so much value to my life (and maybe yours).

I thank the loyal readers, I thank the haters, I thank everyone that took time to message me publically or privately with their thoughts, concerns, complaints or whatever emotion my blog brought out in you. That was always the intention.

And unlike the 5th season of 21 Jump Street, I will not stay around longer than I’m welcome; I will not get stuck in a mode of repetition. I will leave this blog with my head held high, with a feeling of I came, I saw, I conquered.

October has been a very telling month for me personally and I’ve decided to close a lot of chapters in my life,  ironically November has the makings of being a game changer for me. I hope it leads to inspiration, confidence and a push in the right direction as the writer I am meant to be. I will continue to be inspired by an elite few, those who I love, those who I cannot be with, and those who I strive to prove wrong.

So thanks for being part of Burgs World…I hope you come back and revisit some of the many stories I have shared with you over the last three years or so, they will forever be part of my body of work, and if you’d like to follow what I do next…well, hopefully my work will find you.

Always.

Burg.

State of The Burg Nation Address – Permanent Heartbreak & Zombies

October 10, 2012

A year ago I was sitting at home, unemployed, broke and no clue of what the future held for me. I was essentially happy. I knew I had a decent payout coming, a new job would find me, and I had high expectations that “next year would be different”.
So here we are….1 year later. What has changed?
The more I think about it, the more I get overwhelmed with a great sense of depression. It’s probably not the best time to analyse my life either, because I always get hugely depressed this time of year because of my birthday. And in two days time, when the day arrives, I’ll be forced to pretend I’m happy it’s my birthday, instead of having to explain to new friends and co-workers that I don’t celebrate it. So when questions and comments arise such as “what have you got planned” or “I hope you get spoilt” I will try and force a smile and come up with answers that don’t depress me even more.
Know me well enough, and know how I feel about the day.
I’ve been under tremendous stress lately, and really feel like it’s taking its toll. Health wise and mentally, its just overwhelmed me to the point where I feel my legs can’t even hold me up anymore.
The easy solution is I just need to take a holiday or go out with friends…

 

I’ve tried to avoid writing how woe is me, but I just don’t think there is any possible way to avoid it, and believe me, I don’t want to be THAT version of myself again.
A lot has changed over the last year, I know this to be true, and because I can see the difference I’ve made in my life, but the problem is, as I get older, I’m getting increasingly frustrated with the things that simply won’t change.
I gave the whole positive attitude thing a massive try. I made the effort with people, a big effort, but every disappointment I’ve had has resulted in a crushing punch to the ovaries. Which could possibly explain why I’m battling to even stand these days.
A friend and I chatted recently, and I call him a friend because of all the bullshiz we have gone through (and given each other), we still remain close. We spoke about the disappointment in people, and he pointed out that you literally can count the number of friends you really have one hand; the rest will always let you down.
What defines a genuine friendship though? We assign so much to that pedestal of friendship, that it becomes dangerous. Yes. Friendships are dangerous. I think this is why I try and avoid them.
However, over the last few weeks I seem to have fallen off the wagon and tried to believe in the romance of friendships…to my own detriment.
I’ve been accused of taking things too personally…which I do. Because friendship is the most personal thing there is. And if you can’t rely on the very basics of things like effort, commitment and honesty you, such as myself, will be in a permanent state of heartbreak.
And that’s exactly what’s wrong with me. I am in a permanent state of heartbreak. Probably for the last 30 years.
I recently reached out to a bunch of people I considered friends. I wanted to spend time with them, because I like them, and really needed to be around them to feel good about myself.
Scenario A, was friend I had messaged for years saying lets catchup, let’s get together, etc etc.. and she agreed that we absolutely would! She had recently returned from overseas and asked for me number saying we can finally meet up again. I let myself get excited about this prospect, and eagerly sent my details saying she must send me hers. About a month after that she finally did. Then we proceeded to organize a date and time. A Friday, lunch time.
As it got closer, I got more nervous, because people ALWAYS cancel on me…and normally just before the time. So about an hour before she messaged me saying she was running late but would be there about an hour after our original time.
That time arrived and she messaged me again could we do it in the evening rather.
I replied sure.
Then another message saying can we rather do it over the weekend, or the week after.
I replied sure…whenever you can fit me into your schedule.
She replied “Thanks! I’ll message you next week!”
That was three weeks ago. Nothing since.
The second scenario, just days afterwards, was another friend I had managed to track down who I hadn’t seen in over a year. We agreed on a dinner date for Wednesday last week.
On the Tuesday night I messaged her asking if we were all good for dinner the night after, she replied saying she was so sorry, she forgot and said we would have to move it to later in the week, but she would get hold of me to confirm. I still haven’t heard from her.
There are others… new friends, who I’ve tried opening up with, letting them into my life, becoming their confident, showing them that there is a better way of life in terms of happiness and love, only of course till they seem to get bored of me, and my romantic notion of how life should be, then going back to the crud that they think is happiness. I just don’t get it, and then people tell me that I will make someone very happy, or any girl would be lucky to have me…prove it.
These are not random events. This is how it ALWAYS is. Always. It’s impossible not to get heartbroken over these moments. They seem to shrug it off so easily, and to me it feels like I have no right to complain over petty little cancellations.

 

(I know there are those that will immediately say I never take them up on the offers to do something, or never asked them out etc, but lets be honest here, if I enjoyed your company THAT much, we would of already done something, so get over it, and get back to reading.)
I’m a good guy, I’m good company. I surely deserve better? I deserve chances…And screw all that “well if you think it’s going to go bad, it will go bad”…That is such a cop out answer, because what about when you think good? and you still get burned…
Sorry, that was a bit of a vent wasn’t it? Well…I feel better that its out, but my heart doesn’t.
Ah the heart…tell me, why do I even have this useless item in my body? And yes, I know it provides the basic function of living. But then…what if you are not living? I certainly don’t feel alive.
In fact, the only time I felt alive recently was that one week I spent it Cape Town. Because I actually felt like my heart did have a function. It’s possible I left it there though.
You know that girl I fell for? Well. What do I even say about that? I thought at least all the distractions and distance would help me not think about her as much. But the more we don’t chat, the more I fall for her. The more I don’t see her, the clearer I can see her. As I told someone yesterday…there is nobody else for me to push away while I focus on her…there are no dates…there is nothing physical…there is nothing…except what we both know. That there is “something” there and it hurts so much knowing we are not allowed to even try.

So every year, as my birthday approaches, I cannot think of anything other than how I’m getting older, lonelier and despite my best efforts, I may not get that chance at happiness and love. Despite everyone’s cliched pieces of advice, these are the facts. This is the reality.

I sit here in life’s limbo. Exhausted. Heartbroken. Functioning purely on some sort of Zombie instinct. The punches keep on coming, and the Universe is constantly beating the cr@p out of me, but I’m not staying down…and we all know, there is only one true way to kill zombie.

Texas Had It Wrong….I DO need a lover…

July 22, 2012

I have a recurring joke I like to make every so often. A comment so uncomfortably honest it makes people question whether it’s actually just me being awkwardly funny or deadly serious.

“I’m thinking about taking on a lover”

The more reserved of my friends/readers tend to take it humorously, and respond with a joke of their own, knowing that nobody would openly state they are looking for THAT. Others think I’m putting out feelers to see if any “lonely soul” bites…

To put everyone’s minds at rest…
I am ALWAYS looking for a lover. Always.

But why is that considered taboo? Or a shocking statement to make?
Am I not a single adult who craves companionship and affection? Surely I’m entitled to a sex life just as much as anyone else.

Over the last week or two, the conversation of sex has reared its head in a few varying conversations. How honest is too honest when talking about it? What are the pros and cons of a single lonely man paying for companionship and sex? Does sex ruin friendships if you want to have sex with a friend?

It’s often and easily misconstrued as a “typical guy after just one thing”, which makes me laugh a sad sorta laugh.

My sexually history has been written about before, yes, too much to some, but nonetheless, my sexual history in itself can be considered shocking. Most likely for the most opposite of reasons that one might think.

The truth is in the pudding.

I’m a near 34 year old man who has had sex a grand total of once in his life. And this came (excuse the pun), just before I turned 30.

Effectively, I waited 30 years for my first time (yes, I do count the ages between birth and 16yrs old), and now who knows how long I’ll have to wait for me second time.
I can’t say much about my first time, because quite honestly, I never knew what to expect, or anything to compare it against. It something that sorta just happened as a result of a hybrid between opportunity and negotiation.

The willing participant was an old school friend who was most likely stuck in a rut with where she was in her life. We ended up doing it in my office at a previous job in the afternoon. Yup, Office sex and afternoon delight. Doesn’t get much better than that right? (Now of course if you’re smart enough and do the math, you’ll know exactly when and where this took place, and probably give the person who took over my office after me cold shivers right about now….but don’t worry, we exchanged desks too).

The act itself was more of a learning experience for me I guess. I can’t say I did it for the right reasons or it’s something I always wanted from the person. It was just something that was. I don’t think either of us regrets it, and it was a nice memory. That’s all it seems now. A memory.

I’m not exactly living a life where the chance for sex comes along…in fact this was probably the only time, but I do know there have been numerous people I was attracted to sexually. Even now, there are those I would give anything to be with, who I just find so absolutely attractive that I go weak at the knees. Relationships aside, being around them or talking to them, gives me THAT feeling. That’s not a bad thing right? Nor should it be taboo.

In this day and age, if two adults (yes, from 18) are attracted to each other, why can they not just openly discuss the matter, do the deed, and create a moment that adds value to their life. The most basic emotion we deserve to feel is love, physically or emotionally.

Should sex only be a result of a long term relationship? Or should it be the basis of keeping a relationship together, but the what if you are the kind of person who will never be fortunate enough to be in a relationship (yes, the truth is not everyone gets that luxury).

The question is why can I not find a lover? I’m surely not wholly unattractive? Sure I could afford to drop a few pounds which would certainly help with my confidence…but is the thought of sober sex with me worse than having sex with Peter Griffin? (sure, I’d throw in more pop culture references)

Perhaps at the end of the day, I’m just a naïve lonely guy who looks for love in all the wrong places. But all I know is I’m so tired of watching porn….plus these iPads are so hard hold…(that’s what she said.)