Living a fast-paced life is something I've been accustomed to for a few years, now. The same routine as follows: work at the office, return home for a lonely dinner, and listen to the same love song on repeat. A quiet apartment always drives me insane, but one day I'll rebel against my daily routine.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm a loser for going to Jimmy's Bar alone, almost every weekend. Usually I sit there in my expensive name-brand clothes and order expensive drinks. Twelve dollars a round for a glass of Scotch, and I'm at it like a mad man that hasn't sexed a woman in ages. I like to drink off the dry spell, but normally I get interrupted by the desperate bartender who looks like a slut. Her cleavage almost close to her chin, and messy weave that looks all knotted and unattractive with her tight clothes. I hate desperate sluts that want to nail me for a buck, but I'm won't tolerate it at all! And it's always the ugly ones.
Love has messed me up badly, just like the punk ass B*tch that left me for her pimp. "He loves me Ron, and I gave my heart to him" that's all I hear in my ears. She didn't give her heart to him, them legs of hers got parted like the Red Sea. The last thing she told me was that she loved me, but she needed to move the fuck on. She was only about materialistic things anyway! I guess with a body to lust after she could get any man to want her: Big breast, Wide ass, good pus$y, and tall bare legs. I swear if I ever see her again, I'd do something to her like no other. No, I don't mean kill her but maybe sexually torture her like she did to me.
Alice, she had me under a spell that I couldn't break. Maybe there were blinders that she put over my eyes like they do with a horse. The woman had me wrapped around her finger, and still I could smell the lingering of her perfume that she'd wear strictly for our love making sessions. There couldn't have been any real love in this situationship for her to leave me so helpless. All Alice did was give me love in the most dirty ways, but I liked it for some reason. The kinkiness was arousing and tempting, but it was about time that I moved on just like she did.
Six months, and still she's gone and never coming back to me. If I could just find a classy woman with goals and clothes, maybe I'd get something better in the mailing package. I do know that only women who don't play those childish games holds the key to the kind of love I need. I can't do another lonely dinner night with just the sound of a fork hitting the plate and my teeth, anymore.
On Kicking Thoughts
About the time I turned 40, I realized that the dream of retirement was just that. I would not be able to putter around my house, filling my days with chores and projects that I had designated years before as something I'd do when I "retired".
Circumstances and choices of both my own doing and not; have created a future for me that will undoubtedly require I continue working in some way, shape or form for the rest of my days.
Truth be told, I never planned to really retire anyway. I have too many hobbies and interests that replaced the more traditional lists of chores and projects designated for the coveted some day of "when I retire".
At the core of my being, I'm an entrepreneur. I love the process of creation and problem solving. Which caused me to run a business years ago. I'm also a Martial Artist. As far back as I can remember into my childhood, I have been infatuated, enamored, obsessed (choose any or all of those words) with the Martial Arts. Black Belt theater was my Saturday Afternoon companion. Commercial breaks were my opportunity to practice flying kicks down the hall or kip ups on the carpet.
So, back when I turned 40 (not that long ago), I realized I needed to build something now, that I could do into and through those encroaching "golden years". Something that I was passionate about; something I would never tire of or think was a "chore" put off for retirement.