Grey Matters - RTOTD #831

Day 831

I'm starting to keep a little notebook filled with little one-liner insults or descriptors that I haven't found an organic use for in writing. It's fairly short right now, but that's because I realized sometime in the last few weeks that I've come up with far too many clever or funny things that I don't have a use for quite yet and have forgotten to write them down and lost them forever.

And fuck, sometime I might want to just put together a list of them to share or I'll actually find a way to use them and if I don't write them down, how will I remember them all? I have random strings of numbers or comic book continuity or where I left the remote control to remember. I can't be using the grey matter for superflous things like clever sayings or the names of people I really don't care about yet keep running into, like any of the dump truck fires of emotional baggage that I've fucked over the years.

Though, I always remember the names of the bullets I've dodged. That list is a lot shorter:

Like PlayBoyBunny. I almost got married to that one. That was almost an unmitigated disaster.

Or that GothSlut. I still got a flesh wound out of that one, but I'm still kicking.

Or DeadEx. Well, just because she's dead. Not really that I dodged any bullets there outside of a few altercations with a pissed off cop husband. Just that she's dead so I kinda felt compelled to remember her name. I'm not COMPLETELY heartless. Just mostly.

But for the rest, forgetting the names of these trainwrecks helps me disassociate from being as horrible of a human being as I was for even sticking my dick inside some of them. They needed heavy drugging. Instead, I let them reinforce their daddy issues a penis at a time. I'm kind of a raging dickhead like that. If I don't remember their names, I can't recognize mistakes or learn or anything. And I'm all refusing any fault.

Though in my defense, I don't think I ever really noticed how much of a tsunami of glitter and non-ironic-700-club-viewer type crazy some of these girls were at the time. At least in my experience, I didn't catch the telltale signs until I looked at it in retrospect. I was pussy blind.

But that's kinda how that stuff goes. Fun and crazy and "oh god, is she going to stab my in my sleep?" are often difficult to differentiate in the moment.

I don't know where I was going with this at the beginning and I don't really feel like scrolling back up to remember what it was. So I'll leave you with these parting words:

God bless dads that don't give their daughters attention growing up and only provide creature comforts. I never would have gotten nearly as much ass as I have in my life if I actually had to be anything but a substitute male figure that reinforces that objectification.