At least, that’s what it felt like. Bending over to pick up my shorts yesterday morning and felt this sharp pain in my lower back. Not sure what I did or what I injured, but damn, it periodically hurts like a motherfucker. Never experienced anything quite like it. I’m stiff when I first stand up, but after I walk a bit I’m practically pain-free. That’s a good thing. But last night when I was trying to sleep I’d suffer immense pain whenever I rolled over to the left. Same stabbing pain when I tried to get up to pee. It seems marginally better today so I’m hoping whatever this is is running its course. We’ll see.
Changed things up a bit yesterday and started my evening out on Baloy beach. Visited my old-time favorite Treasure Island first. I was disappointed that they didn’t have my preferred beer and frankly the service was sloppy and unfriendly. I decided to eat elsewhere. I also noticed that all my old favorites on staff are now gone. Oh well. I went next door to Da Kudos instead.
Da Kudos is owned by Mango’s and I actually knew my waitress. The menu was also the same as Mango’s, so I ordered up the roast chicken salad. It didn’t disappoint. And neither did the view from my table:
After my meal, I walked out on the beach and this is what I saw:
I guess I got to thinking about that being alone thing. And after a few beers I posted this question on Facebook:
Am I an asshole?
That’s probably not the kind of question that is best posed on social media. But I was just curious why a guy like me found himself dining and drinking alone. Maybe I am an asshole or something similar that people prefer to avoid. The responses to my question came in about 50-50, so maybe there’s hope. I did have to laugh at this response from ex-wife #3:
Well you use to revel in your self-identification as an dick. You were delighted when the Team America movie made an argument for dicks, saying pussies needed them for protection against assholes. So no you are not an asshole. You’re a dick.
Heh. Here’s the clip she was referring to:
My pal Jeremy offered up probably the most thoughtful and heartfelt comment:
John, if you’re not making your intentions known, then all that people are going to see is that youre just the nice old guy. How will anyone expect that you’re looking for something more if you’re not telling them that you’re looking for something more?
Also, dont be the nice, generous guy to everyone. That should be reserved for the people that have a special place in your heart. The rest of the people should be content with friendly, easygoing John. Then, people will take notice of your intentions, and only when that happens will there be the possibility of reciprocation.
Though, before any of that happens, you have to decide if you’re going to buy a ticket. Sure, you’re going to have a lot of losing tickets, but when you hit the jackpot, it’ll all have been worth it. I mean, that’s what my Dad tells me about he lottery, anyway, but I dont think those are his views on love after fifty years of marriage, especially when considering my mom.
You’re a smart guy, John. Not only do you have to periodically examine yourself, but you must always examine the company that you keep. I hope that it works out the way that you want according to whichever way you decide.
Hmm, I’ve heard that advice about changing the company I keep somewhere before. That’s probably the bottom line; if I am indeed an asshole I need to find an asshole-lover to share my life. And until I do I’m better off alone, whether I like it or not.
Anyway, I’ll be alright. It’s my nature to never be satisfied with what I have until it’s gone. Might be time to just suck it up and embrace things as they are and stop lamenting my missed opportunities. Scary that a man my age is still trying to figure that out.
As long as we are peripherally talking about my indiscretions on Facebook, this might be pertinent:
And as a victim of the Facebook “fact-check” process, I liked this one too:
Ah well, enough of this nonsense. I’m going to head out for another night of drinking alone. Hey, it’s what I do!
Ouch. Damn. Shouldn’t you see a doctor about your back? That sounds worrisome. Even if the pain does go away, you’ll still be left to wonder about the original cause. Not knowing the cause, you have no way of knowing how to prevent a recurrence.
Your friend wrote:
“Though, before any of that happens, you have to decide if you’re going to buy a ticket. Sure, you’re going to have a lot of losing tickets, but when you hit the jackpot, it’ll all have been worth it. I mean, that’s what my Dad tells me about [t]he lottery, anyway, but I [don’t] think those are his views on love after fifty years of marriage, especially when considering my mom.”
Is he saying his mom’s a bitch? I’m not clear on this, and your friend sounds mighty ambivalent about love as a result.
As for this:
“I’ve heard that advice about changing the company I keep somewhere before.”
Yes. Yes, you have, at least with regard to the quality of woman you seem(ed) to be looking for. I’m convinced, though, that what you’re really looking for is closer to servitude than to love: someone pleasant who laughs at the jokes, someone who nods in agreement and doesn’t argue, needle, or nag—someone warm and pink and wet on the inside for when the urges strike, and who operates on your schedule. Not an equal, not a true companion or partner, but more like a paid fuck-valet. Heh. If you’re truly after love, then you have to accept all the nagging, needling, and arguing: a woman’s got her own mind, and in a healthy relationship, you two are equal partners, co-adventuring through life, nurturing each other, helping each other grow, and deepening your commitment. I haven’t seen any evidence you’re really willing to lay yourself out for that sort of mutuality or reciprocity. If you were, your focus wouldn’t constantly be on young, tight asses. The inherent inequality that comes with a massive age gap seems to be your comfort zone. Prove me wrong by finding someone saggy-titted but awesome, and who’s over fifty.
“It’s my nature to never be satisfied with what I have until it’s gone.”
For what it’s worth, I think that’s just the human condition. It’s why a religion like Buddhism exists.
You’re not an asshole as far as I’m concerned, but different ladies are obviously going to have different opinions of you. Anyway, please get your back checked by a professional. You don’t want that shit happening again. However much we might view your relationship-related struggles as a series of train wrecks caused by a stubborn refusal to learn from mistakes and an over-attachment to your horny-adolescent past, we do care about you, and we want to see you happy and healthy. In a sense, you’re already there: I can see how much you love being in the PI, and how much the surrounding community means to you, even when the folks drive you crazy.
Anyway, good luck with the back pain, asshole!
Not quite back to normal, but the back is better this morning. Mostly a dull ache now versus the sharp pain of yesterday. I really think I must have just bent over awkwardly or something. I’m loathe to visit a doctor in the best of times and to see one now would require jumping through too many COVID hoops for my taste. [Grammarly says it should be “loathed” to visit. I don’t agree, do you?] If the improvement doesn’t continue or I relapse I will of course reconsider.
Honestly, I didn’t get what Jeremy was saying about his mom either and I don’t know anything at all about his parents’ relationship. He’s recently back from Korea and staying in their house for now so I think he probably just meant that his dad won the lottery on his first try 50 years ago.
Ah, servitude versus real love. Your description does actually sound almost perfect! I’m not kidding, so you might have nailed it. Oddly enough, I had a similar epiphany even before I saw your comment. I mentioned in an earlier post that I was sponsoring a birthday for Jessa’s daughter at the Alta Vista clubhouse. I didn’t plan to attend even though Jessa had asked me to come by. Then I got a message from another friend attending asking me where I was. So I popped in for a brief visit. I got the introduction to the family and friends, saw the daughter’s smiling face as she played in the pool with her friends, then sat down and had a beer. Looking around, I understood this could have been my life with Jessa. And I realized in rejecting that life I had chosen right–this wasn’t the life I wanted. So yeah, the fantasy of love and family might suit me better than the actual reality. Picturing myself with a fat 50-year-old as you suggest certainly underscores that fact!
Thanks for taking the time to share your insights, it is helpful. I think sometimes I let a bout of mild depression color my outlook overall. Stepping back and looking at my life as it is and seeing the positives makes me realize how lucky I am. I’m in “horny-adolescent” heaven, might as well embrace it! I’ll just try not to be an asshole about it!