2:30 pm I’m pretty sore after hitting the gym. Katelyn and I spoke and last night around 10 pm she wanted me to go like her Instagram post. I told her that I’d do that and comment on it. She deleted my comment! Both of them!
In one I said I can’t wait for our date. The other one said I’m not good at leaving comments, but you’re pretty. But some other dude that she follows comments gulp and she gives it a heart and replies back???
I’m sticking to my case I made a week ago or, however long ago that fucking was. The one where I was angry that I’m no one’s person.
I left out that I, EYE DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM!
I just get younger girls and we all know younger girls just want to fuck and have fun. I’M 44 FOR FUCKS SAKE!!! FOUR! FOUR!!!!
God! Damn! I had to make that bold.
I don’t want to have fun! Fun with one person that I’ll be with for the rest of my meaningless life, YES. Totally. AB SO FUCKING Loot Lee. But girls my age have kids and baggage and then they’re all, you eat meat! You have red flags!
I hate cats! I don’t go to the gym. I’m not about that life. All I did was mention that EYE to the gym Patricia!! JESUS!
I’M NOT ASKING anyone to go to the gym with me. I’m saying EYE go to the gym so EYE can feel good about myself.
I’m telling you, I can’t win. I’ll see this gorgeous 31 year old in a dress shirt and cheetah print flats/heels and black dress pants and I’m foaming at the mouth. I’d LOVE to date someone closer to my age but I don’t fit into that mold everyone wants. I’m a failure just making the best out of this shit pie I made.
But this is what I get.
I’m not super buff and I have a belly again from not hitting the gym the last eight months.
This was me heading out the door.
Not bad for an old fart, right? If I didn’t tell you that I was 44, or I’ll be turning 44 this year so I might as well say 44; would you think I was younger? Someone at work asked me if they could call me sir and I asked them if I looked that old. They said mid 20’s and I laughed. I told them to call me dude and to be chill.
It doesn’t help that I act like a 20 year old. It doesn’t help that I randomly dance at work and have food in one hand. Or that I drink 5 hour energy shots with a Red Bull.
I just need my motorcycle. Give me one win please.
I’m thankful for getting the win at work, but I need that motorcycle so I can get out of here. Does anyone understand? Sometimes you just need to leave and there’s this bridge an hour or two away from here that’s at least a few THOUSAND feet up in the air. I’ve always wanted to stop and look over the edge.
Why? Because everything I drove over it I wanted to throw myself off. Will I do that when I get there? Who knows. My death wouldn’t make the news. Not anything big. Maybe the local news and it’d be something like, out of town guy throws himself off interstate whatever, the cause was ruled a suicide.
I’m not doing it. But I’ve thought about it. A lot… Is that sad?
And no one knows. No one knows that this is how I feel behind my lame dry jokes, my random head bops to songs I like, and my catch phrase of its another day in someone else’s paradise.
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