Love

I am, have always been, at heart a man of concrete and definite notions.  I hate little so much as an ill defined word.  I suppose I should be grateful, as the inability to pin down definitions kept me from ever truly buying the progressive lies fed to me from an early age.

But it was somewhat troublesome as I approached adolescence all because of one little four letter word. 

Love.

Its right up there in the title of the post, folks, so that should be no real surprise. 

How do we define love? Its a feeling, right? 

Christ, what a clusterfuck trying to define love turned out to be.  I struggled manfully and mightily with this concept. I knew lust, had felt lust, and lacking a good concrete definition of love, I supposed my lust was love, as so many of the young are wont to do. 

Like most young men in my late teens and twenties I drifted from one 'love' to another, guided by my pecker.  It was a miserable existence, as modern women have no use for love, and especially the lovelorn.  

In modern parlance, I was a victim of my own 'oneitis', often rejecting women who were interested in me for women who weren't.  

Sometime around 25 or so I gave up.  I'd been dry-gulched into the friend zone one too many times. I am not at heart a 'beta orbiter', I suppose. My tolerance for being kept around without relationship progress is limited, and the more times it happened to me, the more limited it got.  I can recall clearly the very last straw, though I didn't recognize it for what it was at the time.  

Contra to the various game sites, walking away in disgust, closing my door in a girl's face and other expressions of disqualifying did not lead to moist panties being thrown my way, but this was the nineties, and Game was only just starting to form in some dark corner of a frustrated beta's mind, I suppose. 

It is tempting to proudly claim I was some sort of reformed, former Beta, or a natural alpha who was misguided by societal lies.  The truth is, I don't know and don't really care. My circumstances were different than those of the guys who created, who needed, game.  All the game in the world won't help you if you aren't where the women are, so to speak.  A dude serving ten life sentences of hard time has no use for 'Game'*... though my circumstances were hardly so bad as that, the allegorical similarity is enough for my purpose.

Regardless; after my last straw, I crossed a personal rubicon. I stopped caring about love, about building connections and wether or not I liked the girl in question. I stopped looking for girlfriends and started looking for fuck buddies.  My circumstances hadn't much changed, but my sex life did.  

I still knew nothing of this 'Game' phenomenon, and to be honest, discovering it made little impact on me, personally. 

There is a somewhat hollow mockery of life that acquiring sex without meaning meant little.  It was survival at the barest of margins.  

Not that life permits much else.  My chances for meaningful relationships died before I left high school. Women I wanted to live with wanted casual sex, and the women I was getting casual sex from were inherently unstable, unlikable sluts.  They weren't sluts because they would sleep with me. I was sleeping with them because they were sluts, and thus easy.  

But sex isn't really optional. Its lack is less obviously destructive than a lack of food or water, but it is destructive. We are wired by biology to breed, to procreate.  Women, in large margin, appear to have reverted to feral mating patterns, but they deny men the right to do the same. This disequilibrium cannot hold for long. 

I mentioned before that I had a LTR. It started with a casual fuck, a pickup of some girl I had little interest in other than her apparent easiness.  I was, in game terms, alpha as fuck, and she wouldn't go away, so eventually I got lazy and let her stick around.  For a while I thought I would never 'love' her, that women had cured me of that affliction, in fact.  

I suppose they have, I was just wrong about when it happened.  As years turned I kept faithful out of a sense of duty and honor, and eventually settled into a comfortable loving friendship with my bedmate. 

So she stuck the knife in, robbing me blind and abandoning me when I was at my lowest point, emotionally and then physically, but sticking around to squeeze a few more drops of blood from my stone until I'd had enough. 

When I fell in love as a young man I was rebuffed. When I sought only sex I was successful.  As an older, wiser man, I allowed myself to feel tender, to feel love for the woman I was having sex with, and was again rebuffed.

What is the lesson I should take away from this? 

The obvious one is that love is, has always been, a lie. 

How cruel that I, a pessimist, even now hold out hope that I am wrong?  

See: since I am now back in the singles game, I am forced to confront simple facts.  I can either look for love, long term stable love that will fulfill me emotionally and give me purpose, knowing that I am likely to be betrayed and rebuffed.

Or I can nakedly look only for sex. I can lie, cheat and manipulate with all the force I can muster. I have no doubt of my ability to get my dick wet, though I know there will be more stumbles along the way as I shake off the rust of a decade of complacency.   The price for this however, is that I will remain cold, aloof and alone to the bitter end. I will be unhappy, without the purpose and companionship I so desperately crave. 

It is a bitter fruit, rotten on one side and poisoned on the other. 

Yet, I am famished and I must bite.