Lately, as in for most of the past two years after that girl broke my heart – I think the first time, not the second – and then nothing ever happened with that another girl – which was good at the time because I didn’t really like her as much as I thought I did but was mostly using her to try and get over the other chick – I’ve been struggling with the idea that I need to learn to be alone for awhile. Before I can really be happy with a girl and keep her happy I need to get some things straightened out with myself, and at times I understand this, but then something always throws me off course of course – yep, I put off course next to of course, and then what’s worse is I mentioned doing it, so sue me.
I was reading the wonderful Teresa Strasser’s book Exploiting My Baby and it has me thinking a lot about what it’d be like if I ever had a child with some unfortunate girl. Just yesterday I was thinking about how it wouldn’t be that bad not having a child. The Trujillo’s have a very storied history in this country, all of which is horrible and must be put to an end. Most of the Trujillo’s, who I haven’t met more than once if at all, are very good at sex, well more so very good at getting sex – The larger than average weight and tendency of breathing problems point towards the sex probably being not so great, but nonetheless fertile. I of course not being raised by any Trujillo’s, but instead by my mother who is of the Lloyds, didn’t obtain the ability to get sex easily, which is odd because just like the Trujillo’s my mother’s side of the family contains many members which appear to have sex often, and produce many offspring, many of which they don’t even know about. So somehow I managed to miss that whole thing where my previous family generations had lots of sex and had kids at a young age, and instead I’m a virgin at 23 with a borderline obsessive compulsion towards masturbation. Don’t drop your panties all at once, ladies (I hate that joke).
In the book Exploiting My Baby Teresa talks about how because her mother was such a terrible parent it gave her fears that she wouldn’t be such a good mother. I’m not sure if this holds true with me, but instead of mother father. My father wasn’t there for essentially my whole life – and if by essentially you think I mean anywhere near half my life I mean more like he was only there when I was two, and I can’t remember what I did last Thursday, so I definitely don’t remember anything at two. If I had a kid I know I wouldn’t leave it. In fact if I had a kid with a pale white woman – you’ll see why her skin color is important in less than ten seconds, trust me, well I guess it depends how fast you read, anyway – and the baby came out looking like Marlon Wayans in Little Man I’d still feel like I’d need to raise that child.
For some reason I almost prefer if I had a kid that wasn’t biologically mine. I guess if I had to figure out why that is it would come down to two things. The first being that I’d feel like I was being a father figure to a kid who needed it as opposed to impregnating some chick and putting another soul on this Earth that needs guidance. The second thing being that I don’t want to pass on all these horrible genes to anyone. Anything I pass on to the Earth I have a responsibility over. I don’t want another crazy, depressed, short, small dicked (get on with it) transvestite on this Planet. One is enough, minus the transvestite part. I figure my future son only did that because he harbors resentment that his mother left because of me and now he figures that’s the most logical way to make up for the lack of female presence in his life – whenever I make up future children of mine they always end up fucked up, not that being a transvestite is a bad thing in case any are reading this, but maybe the fact that I always imagine my kids ending up weird, not that being a transvestite is weird except it is, is why I don’t have a huge desire to have kids?
Despite the lack of desire I have of passing on my seed, while I was reading Exploiting My Baby by Teresa Strasser – yes, I’m mentioning it multiple times so it will get stuck in your head and maybe you’ll buy it, but hey at least it’s cheap – I kept thinking about being with some girl in the future and going through the whole baby making experience, particularly all the sex, and also in this scenario my wife was Scarlett Johansson, and for some reason she ovulated better – or more, I’m not sure which is apt – when Kaley Cuoco and the little known dancer from the movie Fame and season whatever of So You Think You Can Dance and apparently that Katy Perry California Girl’s music video Kherington Payne is involved. Two things: before any teens or gays correct me, I know it’s ‘gurls’ and not the traditional ‘girls’ but I’m not going to fix it – I only said gays because this guy who writes a gay blog, that I don’t know anything about it because I totally never even accidentally stumble onto anything gay because that’s how straight I am, put that song on his list of best songs of the year…wait, look how not gay I am, California girls wasn’t on the list, two other Katy Perry songs were. And secondly I don’t make up the rules for my fantasies. The fact that Scarlett can only get pregnant if we have sex with two incredibly hot girls is the universe’s doing.
The point of all that insanity is that I often think I don’t want or need any of those things so desired by many others, but when I think about it I do kind of want it. I want to impregnate some girl. Not at this precise moment, but preferably before I’m old and all my sperm needs walkers to get around with. That’d be an excruciatingly slow ejaculation. Me and Scarlett might have to watch two and a half episodes of Glee before I can safely eject myself from her – I know I’m supposed to use ‘I’ there instead of ‘me’, but guess what, I still don’t care, but at least I’m aware I’m making the mistake, and isn’t that what’s most important?
But I don’t like thinking about all that. That’s what makes me so lonely. I’m convinced it’s not being alone, but rather all the thinking of what I could have with someone that makes me so lonely. If you ask me what the loneliest place in the universe is it’s an easy answer. It’s not some far off Galaxy billions of lightyears away from any semblance of life. It’s the Moon. The Moon watches all the life that happens on Earth, but never gets to partake – I guess unless you believe in the Moon Landing, which I have mixed feelings on. It sees all the potential happiness there is. Pluto doesn’t get to see it. Neptune doesn’t get to see it. They live in ignorance, hell, some might say in peace, or at least the clichéd bliss. But the Moon spends its entire existence watching everything. All that it wants. All that it can’t have.