I am not one to cast disparaging remarks upon the opposite sex, except in jest but honestly I will make anything into a joke. Anything. No matter how crass, before I have thought it I will say it. 

Ask anyone who knows me. It is a condition. Another thing I hate about me but cannot change. And if I do I am just quiet. No one likes quiet me. He is brooding and intense. But not in the cool way.

Definitely not cool.

So when I say bitches be tripping, I mean it respectfully. 

Bitches be tripping. Tripping for sure.

I am not so charming and self confident to believe I can hook a lady with two or three well contrived messages. So when I hear you are falling for me the alarm in the lizard part of my brain goes off. In the past week that has happened twice. Twice too many. 

Desperation is not a good look. I see it in the mirror, I know it isn’t. 

I hear myself saying it isn’t a sprint, it is a marathon a lot. Also fat fingers typed marathong. What in devil’s fetish closet is a marathong? There is not enough material to wear front back inside out repeat. Is it an endless piece of fabric rubbing the taint raw for 26km? 

Anyhoo. Um. Damn it all it is gone, like a Kenyan running the Boston Marathong. 

They tend to win them you racist bastard. I saw your eyebrow raise as you read that. Pit tape on your camera if you do not want me to see you see something and go racist.

I thought we were better than this. I did. Like my heroes, you have let me down. Thanks a lot Mom. 

She has cancer, by the way. I cannot make myself call her. Another story I guess. Weighs on me most days though. 

Falling for me! Ha. Depression and self discovery be damned. I found that errant thought. 

Please. For the love of goddess, A casual talk is not Shakespeare. It is not evem the fucking horoscope. It is the comics and not the good ones. It is Family fucking Circus. Barely a god damned blip. 

Had you not creeped me the fuck out, I could have let you down. Let me do the disappointing. Is it a spoiler to say I am not worth it? Does that defeat the point in this? All of it? 

Well I am. So eat a bag of dicks. I feel like Neo in the Matrix, time slows and I am steady dodging. 

Love me at your own peril. I will disappoint. I am not as advertised. Like the toy on television that moves and talks and fights until one Christmas you open the box and it is a piece of fucking poorly made plastic that breaks an hour later. Merry fucking Christmas kid, this is just sneak peak at adulting. 

Remind me and I will tell you about the fire truck. I blame that fucking thing for creating the beast you see. 

I love you. Wish I didn’t, or could stop. But I cannot. 

So fuck me, right?