I’ve been getting more questions than I expected over the last few months.

“Why arent you still blogging?”

“Why don’t you post anything new?”

“Why don’t you keep up your blog?”

The reality is, I have over 50 posts that are incomplete..

It’s usually when I’m in a relationship I don’t blog, but since I’ve been pseudo-single for a few months, I really have no excuse.

The real tragedy is that I still think in blogging terms, but I just haven’t been keeping track of it. Blame life, inclination, whatever..

It’s still here, crammed inside. It’s just a matter of getting it out.

It will come.

Eventually.

Stay subscribed for it will come in due course. I promise. Pinky-swear stylez!

The windows were completely fogged up making the car look very suspect. But the only fluids being excreted in my tiny Honda were the tears from my eyes.

We’d avoided talking about her upcoming visa expiry, but we finally got around to it and we didn’t handle it with kid gloves. She’d decided she was going back to japan. It would be too expensive for her to stay.. she’d have to pay for another 6 months of school and she couldn’t get sponsorship. It made no sense to stay in Melbourne and I was in complete agreement.

“Don’t cry An-do-ru. Be a man!” she said, rubbing my shoulder consolingly.

I realized I’d never seen her cry.

By then I was very in touch with how much I loved her, which didn’t help me from stopping the flood of pain at the realization it was over. We decided it made sense to breakup straight away, instead of prolonging the inevitable goodbye. Good idea in theory. I knew in myself I couldnt be a good boyfriend to her for that last month she had in Australia.. I was too busy (or lazy) to travel Victoria with her and see the things she wanted to see, and too protective to want her to go on her own, so it made sense. I didn’t want to be “that guy.”

I knew that if I asked her to stay, and be with me, she would have. But I’d decided if I did that, it would be tantamount to asking her to marry me, and I knew I was nowhere near ready to be with 1 woman forever.

“Forever”

I always preach a lack of forever, believing nothing is forever.

So why was I feeling that pressure? I think it comes down to this stupid thing that gets into a guys head. Is it low self esteem? Is it love? Is it a sense of duty? all of the above? and if so, where does it come from?

But when you really love a woman, and you know that she loves you, and would do anything for you.. you feel this responsibility. Whether you want it or not.

It tells you, don’t fuck this girl around. Don’t be a cunt to her. Don’t treat her wrong, don’t ever cheat on her, because she would never do that to you. She only wants to be by your side and have your loyalty. She will be with you when you are happy and sad, and she will take care of you because she loves you.

Then the switch flicks.. and it says “shit. I can never be the perfect man for her, and she deserves perfect.” So even though you’ve seen her good and bad sides, and you’re in love, you put her on a pedestal. For what purpose? To keep yourself in line? To create an excuse to walk away? Can anyone even be “perfect” to anyone else?

The words “setting yourself up to fail” come to mind.

Don’t say I’m not a fucking romantic, because these kinds of thoughts run through me more often than not, despite my “amorous” past. But I know it’s irrational. I know nobody is perfect.

Maybe life would be easier if I could just accept imperfection. But if I did resign myself to accepting imperfection, what reason would I have to get up in the morning?

I already told you we were opposites.. but things were opposite, in me. I didn’t quite understand it.

I was losing weight. I’d never lost so much weight whilst in a relationship before.

I wasn’t drinking. Not even on new years eve.

On new years eve she went out with her guy friends, without me. That sort of thing would usually drive me insane, but I trusted her and it was fine.

It was so strange. New.. or at the very least, something I hadn’t had in a long time. Healthy love in a healthy relationship. But then again, I always have a bad memory when it comes to remembering the good times in my life. I focus so much on whats been happening recently that it can drag me down pretty quickly.

“What do you like about japan?” she asked me one time.

“Katakana” I replied.

“KATAKANA?! nobody ever says katakana.”

I think it stemmed from when katakana in design first became popular, and I used to sit in my room and dream that I would one day create stuff half as cool as that of The Designers Republic.

Around a month after we started dating, we made books for eachother. I made her a book about how we met and she made me a book about japanese phrases. She wrote out all of the hiragana and katakana table for me as well as some common sentences.

It was obvious to us as well as others that we were pretty crazy about eachother. We were what the japanese call “bakappuru” which comes from 2 words. “Baka” which means stupid, and “Kappuru” which means couple.

No prizes for figuring out the translation.

Every week we had some new phrase to talk about thanks to her english lessons. After she learnt things like “sweetie” and “darling” we never stopped calling eachother pet names. It started out ironically but we were so gay for each other we started to mean it. I can still hear her saying “my sweetieeeeee!!” She also learnt the phrase “love handles” which she never let me forget I had, but I didn’t mind.

I was only a 40 minute drive from her at any time, but that didn’t stop us from Skyping for at least an hour every night. I remember how I used to stare at the screen and wish she was next to me.

Even a month after she has gone, I still miss rubbing the small of her back to make her feel comfortable. It was a tiny thing I did every week that really contributed to my newfound feeling that I was building a happy place for myself in the world. Which was something that carried with it such a sense of novelty that I have to wonder if I’d ever felt that way before.

Despite a solid birthday gathering, substantial weight loss and the procurement of a stable job, various other things conspired to make my life.. not good enough (yeah, that old chestnut.)

But it wasnt just the formulaic and downright tedious “writing” in Teen Wolf that was getting me all squirly. As far as I’m concerned I shouldnt have the time to be downloading tv shows to “give them a go” – I should be performing some obligation like going to my girlfriends friends’ going away or something. But the problem was I didnt have a girlfriend. The girl I’d fallen deeply in love with had flown back to Japan thanks to her visa running out.

So what’s a guy to do? You can only masturbate so much before you realize it’s time to take action. Some kind of action, beyond lamenting the inability of your internet connection to stream video at a good speed. Seriously, I work with computers, I should have this shit on lock.

But what action to take? I’d already decided you cant ask a woman to move herself to a country based on a 5 month relationship. Or maybe you can.. but my cynicism and need for instant gratification (read: fear and impatience) said no.. and god knows those two parts of me have ALWAYS been great things to base life decisions on.

I called her Kantoku Hako. She was tiny and happy.

We were complete opposites.

As they wheeled me into the operating room, I asked my anaethatist what the “N” in his name stood for. He said nudist. I told him I wouldn’t put it past him.. the guy was more than a little bit cheeky. As I shuffled off of the stretcher and on to the operating table his mobile rang, the ringtone being the theme from Austin Powers. I almost started laughing, resolving just to stick in my tongue in my cheek to hold it back. Then I thought, “aren’t mobile phones supposed to be off in hospitals? we’re in the fucking operating room!” as they stuck the needle into the back of my hand and started to pump whatever sleep juice into my veins.

“Time to go to sleep” the nudist said as the nurse put an oxygen mask over my face. “Yes Andrew.. time to sleep” I thought, slowly losing the smile from the ringtone. I thought of her, one of my favorite memories.. we were lying in bed and she looked up at me and said “good night” before rolling over, so I could snuggle up behind her and spoon her to sleep. She was so sweet.

It took an hour out of my life, but I’m sure I’ll remember it for much longer than that.

I’d exchanged some funny messages back and forth over BlackBerry (BB) messenger with this girl. I didn’t have her number, just the free instant messenger over BB. I let her know I was only after friendship.. because well, I was already dating 2 girls and I was finding that hard enough to juggle emotionally (turns out I’m fairly shit at being a playboy.)

It was a beautiful Sunday and I was really jonesin’ for some beer or cider in the sun. Spring had finally sprung and summer was just around the corner.. it was time for a new beginning and I could finally get over those memories of the summer just past, that were just as beautiful as they were painful.

She said she was up at state library on the grass. She was Asian and well, everyone around there is Asian, so there wasn’t really any way I could spot her even if I had carefully examined her photos. I got there and msg’d her saying I was the fat guy who was 40kg heavier than my pic, and in one of those disabled buggies for turbo fatties. Also to come get me at the statue right in the middle since she was Asian and everyone was Asian, so I couldn’t find her.

I walked up to the statue and paced around. I kept my BB in my hand, should I get a message.

5 minutes passed and I was finding it hard to maintain my kind of “pleasant” face. I hate waiting around for people to meet them for the first time, since I can’t stand around with a scowl. I have to look normal. Ish. After greeting them, it’s fine because I can tune into their energy and build the experience from there. But people always tell me I generally look angry or surly. Either that or I’m smiling like an idiot whilst laughing like a schoolgirl. There isn’t really an in between, but I try to hit somewhere in the middle while standing around waiting at this point so I still look approachable.

I looked at my phone. No reply.

BB messenger has this feature that says if your message has just been “Delivered” or actually “Read” by the recipient. The message had been read.

As I was walking around the statue slowly, I started to realize. “I’m being stood up. Wow.”

I msg’d her and said I was going to Cho Gao for a beer since she was AWOL, and left.

Technically I lied. I went to Cho Gao and ordered a cider. I sat down alone and tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

I knew I couldn’t take this personally because well, she didn’t know me. My only assumption is she saw me and wasn’t interested. Not sure why since I’m not anything approaching ugly enough not to want around as a friend and I’d already conveyed a good sense of humour. I was wearing my new pair of Levi 527′s that made my butt look great (low-cut bootleg, what a revelation!) along with my best shirt. I don’t think my energy was off either, since the gorgeous girl I’d been lying in bed with all morning kept telling me how hot I looked. I also couldn’t have been conveying some desperate need for sex – even via posture, since well, I’d already gotten some action that day.

I knew I couldn’t be angry with her, or message her saying she was inconsiderate, rude or whatever else. I couldn’t message her and say “how could you do this to me? why?” because, what was the point? Come off as a psycho? Sure, I just wanted to understand why, but fuck.. (hehe, buttfuck) whats the point?

I’m basically stuck. I can’t say anything. I just have to delete her contact info.

As narcissistic as I am, I can’t say “she missed out big time.” That’s pointless. The thing was, I was only after friendship. For reals this time. For really real reals.

I just find it hard to understand why somebody would stand somebody up. Somebody that looked like me anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a late canceller, and I’ve ditched dates after an hour or so, even making out with some because I felt sorry for them. But never stood up.

So much for good karma hey?

Over a series of 3 consecutive days, Towny lived a life he had yearned to experience for a long time. Best of all, he did it by working for it.

He spent a glorious day with an absolutely gorgeous Chinese girl who wanted to have his babies. Literally. She was beautiful and very caring. She longed for nothing more than his love and warmth. They shared great intense sex and fell asleep holding each other, both feeling content.

The next day, he met a fucking cool Korean American girl. She had a story for every occasion and a wisdom beyond her years. Despite only knowing her for 4 hours, he bedded her and they fell asleep holding eachother. Their time was filled with an awesome energy, with the novelty and unfamiliarity of it all amplifying their feelings up to 11.

The next day he walked into his $40 per hour job, the most he had ever earned in any job to date.

That night he went to Krav Maga class for the 4th week in a row – a long term goal of his that he had put off for a long time. He felt like less of a hypocritical douchebag – having talked about doing it for 2 years – every time he went.

Around a year earlier he had been drunk & depressed, sitting at his desk living out in Clifton Hill. Unhappy with his lot, never having bedded his Asian fantasies, he set out 2 goals for himself – “I have to live in the city again and do krav maga.”

He was there. He had achieved that goal, and more.

Towny was back in town, this time bedding beautiful Asian women, earning the most money he ever had, and finally working towards his long put off goal of learning Krav Maga.

Why then, did he hit the bottle that night? Crying, whilst lamenting the unexplained discord he felt in his core?

Is he destined to always be unhappy? Despite not losing all the weight, he had achieved the life he wanted. The limiting beliefs – about being too fat for gorgeous Asian women to find him attractive, were quashed. It had been bullshit. He was good looking and able to seduce many types of women and it had finally been proven. There were no more excuses not to move toward his goals. It had taken him 28 years to figure this out.

He had found the niche he wanted for himself but it wasn’t enough. He was still working in IT and despite being paid very well for it, he hated every minute. He could not engage himself in it, despite now reaching a level where he was paid to manage and engage other people in its minutiae. He loathed to talk about his work or even just tell people what he did it for a living..

So what place in the world would satiate him? Did one exist? Is there ever truly such a place for somebody? Probably not, for someone with a grass is greener attitude, who had already thrown away amazing girls due to his urge to manwhore with hot Asians and be free of commitment..

The irony is, despite his urge for freedom, the guy just can’t fucking handle being alone.

Quite the sticky wicket.

But even if he knew his place in the world and got into it, what reason then to keep existing at all? Perhaps perpetual discord is a drive to keep on changing.

If only it didn’t hurt him so fucking much and he had a coping mechanism other than hitting the sauce and fucking women instead of engaging them as long term friends.

If only.