Apparently Alcohol Doesn't Dull The Pain of Schism

When we are babies, we don't notice our separation from the rest of the
world. We are the world, and the world is us. As we get a little older,
we notice our separation from our parents. And then we notice our
single gender; it is then that the pain begins.

Evolution is a process of adding layers. Humans are not animals alien to this world,
we are simply the latest layer of life on earth. We contain within us
all subsequent layers. Our self-relativistic ego, which thinks it is in
charge, is simply making decisions based on supplicating the demands of
our lower layers. It thinks it is the master because it makes the
decisions. But in reality, it makes these choices only to placate the
baser urges. In reality it is the dutiful slave.

One of these most famous urges is the one Freud and every advertiser in all of human
history loves to exploit: sex. But in the layered human being, sex is
mostly a lowest layer yearning, a simplest understanding, of the desire
to once again be whole like we were when we were babies; like we were
before we recognized that we are alone, cast out of the bliss of Eden.

I thought maybe getting tanked tonight would salve my isolation, but it has only made it more acute.

You know guys, when I said "I do" five years ago, I meant it. Not "I do for
a little while." Not "I will for three years." But I didn't marry one
person, I married two. I married the woman I loved, and against my
wishes I married a woman damaged and angry, who craved but feared the reunion
of man and woman. A woman who made sure I never got too close for too
long, and would hurt me just to keep me at a safe distance. It wasn't
her infidelity that made me finally decide to break my promise, it was
the realization that I would spend my life never getting back to the
wholeness I knew before I could form a cogent thought.

I know that I have three dates with three girls this weekend, but in all
honestly I was only interested in one. I thought that she was
interested in me. After our first date, she asked me out for a second a
few hours later. Only I found out last night that those weren't dates,
and neither was the dinner we just ate. In fact, she just is too busy
to date anyone right now.

But I know that she feels the schism too. She feels it and fears it; fears being let down again, just like her father let her down. And if I knew that she wasn't interested in me, I could let it go. But since she contacted me every day this week
before our date; since she shared her insecurities with me, I can't let it go. And at the same time, I won't bug her. I've told her how I felt, and now I'm giving her her space.

And none of this helps me on a Saturday night. And neither did the alcohol.

So here I sit, tanked out of my gourd. I walked twice as far as I needed to from the party to my house because I was tacking back and forth. And now here I sit, hoping to feel my separateness just a little less by babbling to all of you. My loneliness hangs from my heart like a heavy plumb, and the best I have is a blog.

I meet so many girls. I meet so many girls I can make giggle, smile, flip their hair. But when it comes to getting the ones I want to give us a shot, I feel like a three-legged cat trying to bury turds on a frozen pond.

I just want to feel whole again, like I did when I was an infant. When I was the world, and the world was me. Like I did for a brief time with Traci. But now thankfully, I think I feel the temporary bliss of passing out coming on.