Alone…Again

 

I began this blog so that all of the content that I did not want impeding on my other blog, I could instead store here. Tonight however I am using this blog for an entirely different reason; therapeutic.

Well, hopefully.

It’s Friday night here in Australia as I type away this particular number, and the reason why I am writing this rather than being out on the town like other stereotypical young adults is for the simple reason that I have no paramour in my life to go out with.

Yes, I have friends (actually, I’m lying – I have a best friend and I have a couple of friends overseas) and I have a family (who I get along with as often as I travel to Mars by pony), but, like I have written previously on this blog, I have this hole inside me which can be filled only by a potential love interest, and as long as it remains unfilled, I am forced to endure this feeling of intense loneliness.

Okay, full confession? I have not being in a romantic relationship since 2009. In 2012 I began to think that a relationship may be a good thing to attempt, as I have continued to think since, yet attempting to start one is proving to be immeasurably difficult.

You see, as I have (I think) mentioned on this blog previously, I suffer from depression; I have since I was 15, and I have since convinced myself that no woman could ever possibly fall in love with me, which is what makes attempting to ask a woman out so difficult. I already think a woman is going to say ‘no’ before asking her out, so I normally don’t bother.

In June of this year I asked a woman out, and I probably should not have done so. Reason: she is SO out of my league (I say ‘is’ rather than ‘was’ because I bump into her every Monday – funny – I asked her out because I thought I would never see such a beautiful woman again, and yet, now I am forced to do so!) Basically, I was pretentious to think for a second I was her type; to think she was available; to even attempt such an action.

But, amazingly enough, after I asked her out and was rejected, I did not feel so bad – true, my ego was deflated and I was disappointed, but it was not as painful as the feeling I have in my gut right now.

A young woman I met in 2011 resurfaced in my life this year, and I never began to pay her much interest until now. In August we really began to communicate, and I told her I thought it was strange that a beautiful, intelligent woman such as herself was without friends, and we talked about not affiliating with people at the university campus we attend and she later mentioned she was single when I raised the idea of a possible partner.

Like I mentioned previously – I often convince myself that women cannot love me, and the same applies here.

I contemplated asking her out last week, but this feeling of mine halted my doing so, and today I just went for it; and it turns out she began to date a man not even a week ago. If I had asked her out last Friday as planned, I might have been lucky enough to be dating her right now.

This is of course, my own damn fault.

I guess the reason why I wanted to go out with her is, yes, because I like her, but the real inspiration for my asking was for a different reason entirely. I may have written this here previously, maybe not too – full confession, right? – but I have in the past attempted suicide, and one technique that I have been using to keep my depression from completely destroying my existence is to distract my mind; as long as I am doing something; working; going to university; talking to friends or family – I am not thinking of my depression.

However, this technique of mine has been waning recently, and I at present feel as depressed as I did back in 2010, which is the last time I attempted to take my life, and was the one time when I really nearly succeeded, and if my friend had not intervened, and, with the help of her father taken me to a medical clinic, I would not be here now.

On that note, I felt that going out with this young woman would do me good; would help me with my depression and fill the hole inside my gut.

Instead, that’s not going to happen. For a long time I wanted to die. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I don’t necessarily want to die now, but this is the first time that I can remember when I am scared; I don’t know if I will be able to continue without, well, love I guess.

Anyway, I just wanted to write this, and I have.

Thank you for reading!

Oh, and I don’t think this was therapeutic at all! But I tried, right?

How important are looks in everyday life?

How much do looks play in everyday life?

On my blog I occasionally ask rhetorical questions such as this, and I often do enjoy some of the responses that come from them.

I ask because, well, I guess it is kind of difficult to explain without being an open book.

I am unsure if I have ever admitted to this on the blog I am writing in now, and if not, I guess this is as good a time as any; my name is Derek, and I have lived with depression since I was 15.

Why do I admit to this you may ask? Well, I doubt my mental state was at all helped by a number of my high school peers who seemed to make it their duty to ensure that my years spent undertaking secondary education would be incredibly gruesome, and being continuously abused, physically as well as mentally left a number of scars, and not just the visible ones. Being continuously told to go kill myself only furthered my suicidal behavior; being told how much I was hated only made me hate myself even more; and being told how hideous I was only caused me to loathe the way I look more than I already did.

I am naturally one of those people who has never really been truly satisfied with my looks, but I neither have the intention (or the money) to go under the knife to do anything about that. Although I was once a child model, I believe my looks began to wane at an early age, and if you direct your attention stage right, I am sure you can make your own observation on how hideous I generally am.

All of this information leads directly back to the question I asked at the beginning of this post.

Now, before I continue, I will say this; even though I was once in a five year relationship with a woman, what I know about women I could probably write on a post-it note, and what I don’t know about women could fill a series of novels that could span for generations. I am writing this because I have a theory; I believe that women care more about looks than men do.

I do not mean any offense by that, and if I have caused it, I do apologise but please, allow me to explain. Many women talk about how they care about feelings, and this argument has been made during my university classes when women are discussing the lack of realism generated by certain female characters in literature, complaining that the author did not place another emphasis on emotions experienced by these fictional women.

However, I would argue, how often do you see a beautiful woman going out with a man who is not good looking?

As an example; there was a woman I knew during my undergraduate university course, who said online and off that she was ‘not shallow’, and thus did not care how a man looked like. She said all she cared about were feelings. Now, she told me once that she liked me – I believe this was a general observation of my character. When I asked her out, she was absolutely horrified that I had come onto her and made it very clear that she did not wish to date me – why not; simple – I wasn’t good looking enough. This, dear reader, was her reason for not going out with me.

This happened a year ago, so I am very much over such an occurrence. Instead, I am attracted to someone else now, and again, this pertains to my original question.

In July I asked this woman out, she told me she was already in a relationship, and I told her I would respect her answer and have since then left her alone. Unfortunately for me she happens to be in one of my university classes and I bump into her once a week, and although I am smart (that’s debatable) enough to realise that nothing is going to happen, and on every other day I barely ever think about her, it isn’t exactly easy for me to inevitably bump into a woman that I am attracted to and have this rather awkward silence hanging over us.

You see, I didn’t exactly ask this woman out in the conventional sense – I wrote her a poem, where I wrote about how beautiful she was; how fascinating I found her to be, and how I would happily die a million deaths to buy her a coffee, among a couple of other things that may be a little too embarrassing to write here. I didn’t sign my name or anything; I concluded the piece anonymously, and said that if she wanted to know the ‘writer of this here verse’ that if she were to wait around when lunch time arrived, that I would make myself apparent.
So, she waited around; she gave me her answer; and thus, awkward moment.

Now, one of the reasons I became attracted to this woman was, well, I guess her aurora; she just naturally stood out (you know, when everyone else ceases to exist and only this one person is visible in a crowd of several dozen other people), and another would be the fact she did not seem to be very popular. She never sat with the ‘cool crowd’ and during lunch breaks I noticed she only ever hung out with one other woman, and no one else.

These were two of the reasons I was attracted to her; I am not to sure these reasons apply so much now though. Yes, I am still attracted to her, I can’t help it (and unfortunately for me, being in the same class as her has helped me realise she isn’t just beautiful, but incredibly intelligent and has a healthy sense of humor, so, damn, damn, damn!) but she seems to have deliberately changed her attitude or something to conform to the societies in the classroom. I did mention that she seemed to not hang out with the ‘cool crowd’, and originally in class she didn’t either.

You see, there is this group of about three guys and three women who are ‘the cool kids’, a term once used by a young woman who said these three words before ditching her own friends to go sit with them. In class it generally seems that everyone is lining up to kiss their arse, be their next best friends, and if that is not enough, I know for a fact that at least one of the guys has dated one of the women, if not two of them judging by the conversations I have overheard him having with some of his other friends.

Now though, the woman I am attracted to; she sits with this crowd; and hangs out with them after class.

I will note that I am in no way this woman’s keeper, and she has every right to do whatever she wishes and spend time with whoever she wants. Just because I will never be associated with the ‘cool crowd’ in no way means that she should not be.

But this again goes back to the question regrading looks, but this is not the physical sense of the word, as much as it is the visual of one’s character. This certain young woman (I do know her name FYI, I am just refusing to use it in this post as to not further embarrass myself!) has obviously decided that she would rather look ‘cool’ than look like a loner (like me!) and although I respect her decision, it certainly means that if she were to break up with her current partner, that I have absolutely no chance of ever being with her since those associated with the popular crowd never lower themselves to interact with those beneath them.

Continuing on with the notion of if she were to break up with her current partner, would she remember that I am attracted to her and alert me to the fact that her relationship status has changed when she is ready to begin dating again? Or will she not give a damn and go out with either someone associated with the crowd she now associates herself with, or with someone more attractive than I am?

I realise it is not healthy to like someone who is unattainable. However, I find it difficult to move on when I am going to keep bumping into this woman until the start of November. Once this month comes around the chance I will see her again is minimal, and then I will probably be able to resume my life as usual. Until then, I am cursed to see this woman.

So again, I ask the question, how important are looks in everyday life?

I don’t necessarily need any answers, but anyone who wishes to contribute to this post, feel welcome to write your thoughts into the comments section below.

Thank you for reading dear reader and I hope you have a pleasant day.

If you are broke, do you have the right to ask someone out on a date?

In the past on this blog I have asked two questions regarding relationships, including ‘do guys date women who remind them of their mothers’ after reading an article on the subject and feeling a little queasy at the thought, to asking ‘do women date guys who wear glasses’, which was more of a rhetorical question, but I was glad for the feedback generated by it.

Today I am asking another question, and as suggested by the title, it is as follows: if you are broke, or are not economically comfortable, do you have the right to ask someone out?

Over the course of this post I am going to be talking about a man asking a woman out, however, the same argument can be made for anyone of any gender in any relationship.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m broke, don’t get me wrong. Of course, I wouldn’t openly admit to such an embarrassing notion even if I was. At the moment I have the money to sustain myself and acquire the necessities (food, etc) and can acquire entertainment on an occasional basis, however, if I were in a relationship, I have no evidential proof of how long I would be able to afford to go out with a woman before I inevitably ran out of money to date her, let alone support my own existence.

I think it is an obvious connotation, that if a guy asks a woman out, then he is expected to pay for, well, a lot, and I will not argue against this assumption. If you are asking someone out, you are asking for their time and their commitment and so you should fork out the money to enjoy their company. You are asking them to accompany you to places and to spend time with your friends. If you were not a part of their life they would be spending their time doing other things, and so, if you ask me, the man should put up most, if not all the money for the time that he is lucky to be spending with a living, breathing human being that they like.

However, if you do not have the money to accommodate for this, then I am unsure whether the man has the right to even ask the woman that he fancies out. I believe it would be plain rude for a man to ask for a woman to spend her time with him, only to say after a decent night’s meal at a fancy restaurant ‘oh, I don’t think I can entirely afford this, do you mind paying for half the bill?’
A woman may have agreed to go out with the man, but I cannot imagine her ever agreeing to pay for the meal that the man wanted her to have with him, nor would I even want her to. Maybe I’m strange, but I feel a man would have quite the nerve to ever do that to a woman. I’m not saying a woman could not afford it, not at all; I’m saying that she probaly would not have attended this restaurant if the man had not asked her there, so why ask this certain lady to put her hard earned cash into the equation when it was the man who asked her to be there in the first place?

Adjunctively, what if a woman left her former partner to have a relationship with a man who had recently captivated her attention, only to discover that he was not as economically stable as the partner she recently left? Would she not feel horribly cheated?

The reason I am asking these questions right now is as follows – if a man does not believe he can afford to take a woman out for the period of longevity that he would like the relationship to last, should he simply not bother to ask a woman out at all?
This may seem like an easy decision to make when written on paper, or in this case, a blog, but I would argue against that therom.

I believe that as soon as we humans in general agree to have a romantic relationship with another person, that we give up the ignorance we were originally born with, that ‘ignorance’ being our unknowing of how it feels to be in love. The moment we welcome someone into our heart, I believe that we become accustomed to that feeling, and thus, cannot live without it. I’m not saying that dating is like oxygen, and is thus a mandatory part of life, but I am arguing that if that first person we date were to leave us, it leaves a hole, and every time anyone leaves from that moment on, the hole returns.
Before dating we had no idea of the pain felt when someone leaves. We also had no idea of the loneliness felt when we do not have a paramour in our lives. True, if a person has friends and family they are not essentially ‘alone’ per se, but there is a difference between the hole left from not having family, and the hole left from not having a love interest.

I can’t really believe I am going to admit to this (however I will because it will strengthen my argument), but I myself have not been in a relationship for over a couple of years, and I can assure you dear reader if you do not already know, that what I noted in the previous paragraph is true, at least for me. Although I have friends and family, they cannot fill the hole that is now meant for a paramour, and it does become quite brutal every so often when I realise how many a night is the same – dinner for one, dessert for one, wine for twelve (maybe I’m kidding about the wine, or am I?).
It would just be nice to have someone in my life that I could love because, well, isn’t it nice to love someone and to be loved back? I’m sure there is not a single person out there who will disagree.

Now, unless I’m destined to spend the rest of my existence alone, and I would hate for that to come to fruition, I would like to think there is still hope for me, which comes all the way back to my original question – do I have the right to ask a woman I like out if I cannot fathom I will be able to always afford the ability to take her out?
Of course, there is more to dating than going to fancy restaurants, clubs and theaters, and I am sure continuously having a woman over at my place for dinner, or cooking at hers; or making every date night a movie night, will inevitably become quite boring.
Besides, if you like someone, there is the expectation that one must shower them with gifts every so often. The argument ‘I will always love you’ in my opinion has not been enough for some time, and unless you can show a woman your affection through jewellery, clothes and other like accessories, I do not think that the four letter word in the three word sentence will always remain believable.

On this note, image is just as important as affection, which is often where economics comes into this, for money does pertain to a person’s lifestyle. Now, I am not an expert on women (who is?), but I think it is a fact (and if it’s not then I beg the forgiveness of every woman on the planet) that women like men who are: good looking, older than they are, mature, confident, economically comfortable and suitable to the lifestyle the woman enjoys, have their own place of accommodation (basically, they are not a kipper and still sleep over at mum’s house when they are nearly thirty years of age), own a car of their own (and can drive it, although I think ownership usually implies driving capability), are in a professional occupation, and on top of that, have the ability to keep a job for a period of longevity.

Although I can admit to having some of these qualities, I would be lying if I did not openly admit that all of these do not necessarily describe the man I am today. Again, this leads to the question, do I have the right to ask a woman out if I am not economically stable?

Additionally, does a man have the right to ask a woman out if he is still in is twenties and lives with his parents?
Does a man have the right to ask a woman out if he does not own a car?
Does a man have the right to ask a woman out if he is not incredibly popular and really good looking?

I’m not saying those three above questions pertain to me, but they do fall into the same category as the primary question that I had begun this post with. I think I am getting ahead of myself here, but I do believe all of these questions can be asked.

Now, perhaps these ideologies are simply those generated by a mind that is lacking confidence in the area of dating? Maybe so, but the fact remains the same that money is unequivocally an important factor in a relationship. According to research statistics recovered online, it costs between 2-4 thousand dollars a year to maintain a stereotypical relationship, and if one does not believe they can afford this kind of money, should he attempt to orchestrate a relationship with a woman in the first place?

I realise I keep asking the same question time and time again, and that will be the last time I do so.
This here is just my opinion. Any other opinions on the subject will be very welcome in the comments section below.

Thank you for reading, and I bid all of you a good day.

Haddaway don’t wanna be hurt no more – funnily enough, neither do I…Valentine’s Day: Is it a Gift; a Curse, or an Unnecessary Risk

 

Quintessentially, Valentine’s Day is an annually celebrated occasion about the discovery and celebration of love. The occasion however leaves no room for any alternate conceptions on the subject of romance. Please, allow me to explain…There are many notions on how there is somebody out there for each of us. There is another idea which dictates for every person is seven possible paramours, and you simply need to find one of them for eternal happiness. To believe in such romantic ideologies however, one must then acknowledge the opposite believe. This is the same for religion – if one believes in a Heavenly paradise awaiting us on the other side, then a fiery Hell must additionally be something that an individual with religiously spiritual views believes in. What I mean is – if one believes there is someone out there for everyone, then they must also believe that some people are simply destined to be alone. Valentine’s Day however does not leave room for such a belief, and for those who are destined to make their way through life without anyone by their side, Valentine’s Day makes that eternal suffering all the more difficult to live through.

I have always wondered why Valentine’s Day is such an important occurrence which takes place annually in our society. Christmas, Easter – these are primarily religiously oriented occurrences and so it makes sense that these would be celebrated. Birthday’s too are a celebrative occurrence which annually recognises one’s birth into this world. Anniversaries of partners and married couples I also believe have merit because this is a personal interaction between two people who love each other and are celebrating yet another year together. Remembrance Days additionally enable us the time to remember those who died patriotically to defend our shores, and although those who personally lost loved ones remember daily, those that have not lost relatives to the wars sometimes take their liberties for granted, and these specific days remind them of the tremendous sacrifice it takes to protect a country from barbarity.

Which of course brings me to Valentine’s Day. Now I am no zealous monster who has purposely singled out Valentine’s Day because I am waging a personal vendetta against love, and I am not doing so because I had a bad experience on such a ‘romantic’ occasion. I am doing so for the sole reason because I believe it is actually a little, how do I phrase this, ah, yes – pointless.

To be perfectly honest, not once have I ever had a Valentine; nor have I ever been someone’s Valentine. Reading this post, perhaps you will develop your own reasons as to why. Whenever I have been involved with a certain young woman during any Valentine’s Day, we have simply proceeded as though it is just an ordinary day. True, I have always insisted on taking my partner at the time to a fanciful restaurant or something of reminiscent beauty, but I’ve never made a big deal out of it like some other people do.

Now, perhaps you think I’m a hypocrite – I say I don’t make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day – yet in the past I’ve taken my then partners out to dinner – does that not mean I am acknowledging the event? Well, I fear if I had not taken my then partners out, that they may have become my ex-partners sooner rather than later due to my inability to do such a thing, whilst all of their friends spent the day been pampered by their lovers. Basically, I would do so to keep the woman who had stolen my heart happy, unlike others who simply go outrageously over the top.

Which brings me to the reason as to why I write this post.

Why have Valentine’s Day? I have asked this before, but really, why? Think about it; you love somebody with all of your heart – why do you need one day of the year to tell them; to show them how much they mean to you. Do you not convey to them that they mean the whole world to you all the other 364 days of the year (365 in a Leap year)?

Why would you wait for that one occasion to be tragically romantic? Why wait for that one day to buy your lover a huge bouquet of flowers? A big box of chocolates? A card outlining your undying feelings? A poem about a romance everlasting? A night at a luxurious restaurant?

If you really love somebody, do you not show them on a daily basis how much they mean to you? Are you expected to show them how much you love them on Valentine’s Day, and every other day of the year simply pretend they do not exist?

Why do people need an excuse to be genuinely romantic, which is what Valentine’s Day is – a reason to not be afraid to show your feelings. Is that not an insult – is not Valentine’s Day making the implication that people in general are too frightened of commitment and romance that we all need a twenty four hour window to be stupid in love? Why can’t we be like that any day? Every day? In fact, aren’t we?

So, what makes Valentine’s Day so special? We still love the people we fell for just as much as we do on every other occasion. Our feelings do not miraculously change overnight, do they? We do not become any more romantic, but we certainly do not become any less.

Negatively speaking, for those of us come Valentine’s Day who are either single, just making our way out from a bad break-up, have not had a partner in a few years or who have as much chance of having a ‘Valentine’ as they do of ever going to the planet Jupiter, Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an unnecessary in your face reminder that we are hopelessly alone. As we watch those who are happily enjoying the occasion with the one’s they love, we are again reminded that we do not have the opportunity to present anyone with such affection, and we are moreover reminded that there is nobody out there who at that very moment romantically cares about us.

What is your opinion?

Am I simply an angry young man who should shut up, get laid, and quit writing annoying posts like this?

Am I partially right, but at the same time wrong, and Valentine’s Day is actually a special occasion because people in fact do need an excuse to be stupid and foolhardy in love?

Am I so amazingly correct that I should be granted a Pulitzer for what I have written here?

Or is there something else that you might like to add?

By all means, have your say – or don’t, entirely your prerogative.

Enjoy your Valentine’s Day. I may not be its biggest fan, but I am in no way suggesting that others should simply not bother acknowledging it on my account.

Have a great day!

What do you think?

 

I mentioned in my Christmas post that I received a new phone as a gift; a GT-C3520 Clam Shell.

After inserting my old SIM card into my new device, I found that all of the information stored on there; the numbers of my friends, family and acquaintances; the history of texts and calls that I had sent and received, along with my photos and recordings were all unavailable.

My old phone was an LG Clam Shell, and my new one is a Samsung, and with that said; only the number is the functional part of my old phone that was successfully integrated with my new device.

So, I therefore had to go and place my SIM card back into my old phone because I didn’t know most of the numbers of my friends and family off by heart and had to make backups of any files that I felt were important, which I transferred onto a USB. The numbers however I had to physically write down and later transfer into my new phone.

Some, I admit, did not make it onto the new phone, and this cleansing cycle made me wonder; why did I still have half of the numbers on there anyway when the last time I had communicated with such people, the human race was running around in leopard skins whacking each other over the heads with sticks as a way to communicate with other tribes.

I did come across one number in particular that I am undecided upon, and wish to ask the general public their thoughts on this matter.

The number belongs to a certain young woman that I used to fancy, and still have feelings for. We never did date, and even though there might have been a spark once, we left things on a rather negative note when we last spoke.

On top of this, I most likely have a greater chance of flying to Jupiter than I do of ever either seeing her again, or going out to dinner with her.

However, even with that said, should I keep her number somewhere in my phone – perhaps in one of those ‘groups’ sections? An opportunity may one day present itself I do suppose, although this is unbelievably slim. Another theory could be that having her number will prevent me from successfully moving forward with my life.

I am at a loss of what to do right now, and any thoughts and/or opinions on this matter will be greatly appreciated.

Thanks!

Who is this ‘the one’ the Backstreet Boys spoke of?

 

I am certain that everyone is familiar with the term ‘the one’.

Now, I must warn you all before proceeding; I may begin to rant and rave on a bit here. You have being officially warned!

For those who believe in love at first sight, I would presume that they find ‘the one’ they have been looking for incredibly easily.

But what about those who do not believe the concept of falling for someone the moment you see them? Yes, I am talking about those who believe in falling in love over a period of time as they become acquainted with the certain someone in their life.

Now, for argument’s sake, let’s assume the next portion of this post is purely hypothetical.

Say there is this woman; a woman who is single.

She says that she likes to go out with her friends because she believes there is the chance she might bump into ‘the one’.

She likes to go out to bars and nightclubs and new restaurants and other such establishments in the hope of ‘reeling in’ ‘the one’.

She says that she is very curious to know when she is going to fall in love.

She says she has this list of qualities that her dream man must have, which include been skilled in mechanics, plumbing, carpentry, electronics, cooking and child care. If not, then her dream man will over time acquire these skills so the two of them may have a life together.

She says she does not care about the physical appearance of her dream man.

She also says that she does not believe in love at first sight, like I explained earlier, and that she believes in falling in love over a period of time.

Now, hypothetically, how does she know who ‘the one’ is?

Hypothetically also, let’s say there is this guy who has displayed interest in her. How is he not ‘the one’ for her, when she has these requirements? Is this not contradictory?

This man, he has confessed that he loves her; that he would do anything for her; that he will go to any length for her; be anything for her. He has been completely honest, open and truthful about his feelings. He has even provided her with a number of gifts.

How is he not ‘the one’?

…And the Crusade to hath hold unto: The story of youth, of life, of what is and what should not have been

 

This piece will contain some coarse language.

All World Issues is one particular blogger that I follow. A young, Australian woman, this particular blogger has some many interesting, yet at the same time relatable views on life and other such ideologies and concerns. On Saturday I do believe, the young lady conceived a post on bullying, and her general dislike of such a nefarious issue in society today, the post that she wrote located at the link below:

http://allworldissues.com/2012/09/08/my-crusade-to-help-the-youth/

By the conclusion of her piece, All World Issues asked her readership if they wouldn’t mind developing a post of their own in regards to any experiences they had endured in regards to bullying. So, with that said, this here post is my response in regards to such a question.

Now, I myself have had some experience with bullying in the past. Perhaps I should amend that last statement. I suffered quite a fair bit, no, a shit load, that’s the word, a rather large amount of bullying when I was younger that was active during my high school years.

If there was one thing I could say about high school, it’s that I survived.

All World Issues is not wrong when she says that bullies will often target you for no particular reason. So, why me? I wonder how many people say that when it happens to them?

I was new. Most people at the high school knew each other from primary school. I came from an area that was farther out, whilst a majority of the other students just lived around the corner, so had grown up together.

Amazingly enough, I was lucky – at first. I befriended those who were perceived as the ‘cool’ crowd. They allowed me access to their friends and appeared to treat me like one of their own – to my face. Behind my back it was a whole different story, and eventually I guess they just grew tired of talking behind my back and made sure it was to my face.

I guess I realised I was not wanted when I was simply told that – in one way or another. The guy sitting next to me said I did not belong there at the school. Then he said I should go fuck my mother. I was 12 at the time, and believe it or not this was the first time I had been told this. I had no prior experience and didn’t really know what to do, and so told him to go fuck himself and I wished him best wishes in getting his tiny prick any larger than one centimeter.

That apparently didn’t go down well.

I realised again that I was unwanted that same week when the same guy, along with all his friends said they wished that I would ‘fucking die’; how so – a sword to chop my head off – and then to hack me into a thousand pieces with.

Maybe a little over the top, but still, the message was acquired.

Then the violence started.

I was winded twice during my first year. On both occasions I did not suspect the punch was coming.

Later on in that semester, the guy who had said he wished I was dead became angry with me when he attacked me and I knocked him to the ground. He managed to get the better of me and beat the shit out of me for fun. The class laughed.

In the second semester though, something new happened. Wood work and other such classes are supposed to be fun for the guys. I leant three things during the class. One, I’m good enough with wood work that I would probably always pass with a solid C. Two, I’m probably always going to be a shitty carpenter, and three, a piece of wood hurts when you get clocked over the head by one.

I guess that guy who said he wished I was dead really meant it. I just never assumed he would take the threat to the next level. Perhaps I should have known – surrounded by sharp objects and such that someone who hated me enough might see the potential opportunity to do some damage. When the teacher temporarily left to go into the back room, the guy saw his chance – he grabbed a nice shiny piece of wood whilst my back was turned, and whacked it across the back of my head.

I got a whopping good head ache, nothing else, which I should have been glad for. I tried to tell the teacher what had happened – and apart from ignoring me, when it came time for the truth to come out, the entire class sided with the guy who had hit me – I apparently was a clumsy son of a bitch, had tripped, and had hit my head in the side of the metallic bench I was working at.

I came to the conclusion that I could not win and chose not to tell anyone else. I was the freak in the eyes of a majority of the people.

There were some that were not so bad. In music class I befriended a couple guys, and over the course of high school we founded ourselves a school band with some older students and managed to do a pretty good job at rocking and rolling around, which is probably one of my better moments from high school.

I could have left I guess to escape the times that weren’t so good, but a bunch of rotten apples were not going to scare me.

In the second year it was much of the same thing. There were less physical attacks and more verbal ones.

I must have been called every name available. A couple that stand out would include:

-fucking friendless freak (‘triple f’ for short)

-disgusting fucking creature

-mother fucking fucker

-fucking hideous lanky cunt

-Anglo cunt

-dead cunt

Imagine this every single day. It does get a little tiring.

I was also called gay, faggot and pofter a lot. It would seem that people who bully you are scared of sexuality. I however can attest to the fact that I’m a hetero, although I think those posts should not ever see the light of day because of their incredibly graphic content.

However, year nine was the definitive moment in my life.

Physical attacks went from one extreme to the next. I was frequently water bombed. I had my locker broken into on a couple of occasions and had my lock broken, with some of my goods been stolen.

Class also became more violent than ever before. I had a pair of scissors thrown at me on more than one occasion, and they clipped me twice. Once in the head, and once in the ear. I had a calculator thrown at me, but I guess my number wasn’t up cuz it missed. I had several pencil cases thrown at me on a number of occasions. I even on one occasion had a chair thrown in my direction. Now, you might ask, what was the teacher doing? My home room teacher and my English teacher were one and the same – and she joined in on the attacks. Not the physical ones, but on the verbal ones. I overheard her call me a freak on a couple occasions. I only assume she was talking about me because my name, the word ‘freak’, and the pointing in my direction all lead me to believe one thing. On top of that, on two occasions I told her about attacks and she said ‘what exactly do you want me to do? The class is working to the best of their capability, so quit your bitching.’

The only bitch in the room was her in my eyes. She didn’t last though – she left the following year to go make some other schools’ unhappy.

I began to do my best to keep out of the way of students. No one ever sat near me in class, and I was only so glad for that. I became quite sick and tired of doing things for those who hated me; staying out of their way, was more for them than it was for me.

This didn’t really work anyway.

Later on in the year, a substitute teacher took a class. The class, well, excluding me, joined into a circle, drew a picture of me, then set it on fire, and laughed as it burnt.

I guess for some that wasn’t nearly enough, for come lunchtime, it did not take me long to realise that the hissing sound I heard was deodorant – and it was been put onto me. You know that fire warning label on each bottle of spray. I always assumed it was there for a reason, and I suppose the guy who sprayed me was smart enough to figure that out too. I spun around to confront him and knocked the bottle from his hand. I turned back to close my locker, before taking off my jumper and dumping it in there too, shutting it and turning around – to find the guy with an ignited cigarette lighter in his hand.

Everyone around me looked real disappointed. I managed to avoid all of them, but not before they managed to spray me again.

I suppose the class was still lusting for blood come the conclusion for lunch, because when I returned, the class stood around me and the guy who had intended to turn me into the human torch took the lead. He shoved a knife in my face and told me he would kill me if I ever touched him again like I had when I knocked the spray can from his hands.

A teacher suddenly came around the corner, and everyone moved to their lockers.

Out of fear for my own safety, I began to carry a small knife in my bag. It was a simple switch blade piece, where you flipped it out from the side. It had a good enough point to it, but also had a ruler along the side of the metallic blade, for that was its primary job – ruling lines on paper and then cutting along them.

Unfortunately, one afternoon when I was placing books in my bag, a fellow student saw the blade, and told a teacher about it. Instant suspension for me – for one week. I told the vice principal who interrogated me everything that had led to this moment for I concluded that if I was going down, I would take as many people with me. The guy who had been attacking me all these years – the leader – suspended for three days. Justice?

During the course of my week long suspension I had the decency to acquire bronchitis, and so was away for two weeks rather than one, and upon returning to school, it was a very different place indeed.

For starters, the kid who saw my knife – he told the whole school it was plastic – and they believed him.

A foxy young woman who was a year older than I who I obviously in regards to my previous comment had a thing for also believed the stories. Let’s just say if she ever had a thing for me, it officially came to an end when she trusted all those who hated me over my word.

Secondly, a book had been passed around the year level – a blank exercise book, that was no longer blank at all. The pages in and around the middle were filled with the signatures of 126 people. I counted them myself. I assumed there were around 150 people in my year level, which meant that a lot of people had signed this petition, for that it what it was. A petition for what? The sentence in the very central pages said it all; we want Derek Childs to die.

How did I come by this book? My year nine homeroom/English teacher gave it to me. No, she didn’t sign it. I guess she thought she would get in trouble. I took it to the vice principal. His response?

He asked if I had been attacked recently. I said no. He asked if I had any wounds on me. I said no. He came to the conclusion that this was simply students been students and told me to toss the book in the trash and forget about it.

Forgetting about it was a little difficult. It did not take long for me to be attacked in class again, and after I ended up on the ground, in an attempt to redeem myself I really went to town on the guy who had attacked me – and I kicked his arse up and down the classroom. Well, not quite, but I did a good enough job.

There are however always consequences for embarrassing your enemies, and I paid mine the next day. I only wish that when people chose to fight you, they did so on their own. In a fair one on one fight, although I would have rather avoided such an occurrence, I had a considerable chance of winning. One on several though – excuse my language, but I was fucked.

Long story short, I ended up on the ground.

Eventually all of this became too much for me. There is some aspects of what happened I am going to avoid due to the fact that I feel I’ve embarrassed myself enough and there are some other occurrences that I do not want to touch because I don’t want to write about those painful moments, so I will just skip to what I inevitably did.

In class one day I found myself in another confrontation when the teacher left to yell at a misbehaving student. I had a number of items thrown at my head, before been told again how the class wished I would die. One such item thrown at me was a pair of scissors – the person who threw them also yelled out how he wished I would kill myself with them.

Now, I don’t know if I really wanted to actually kill myself, or if I simply wanted the attention of the teachers who had been ignoring me all these years; but I took that pair of scissors, opened them up, and with all my might I shoved one of the sharp tips into my left wrist. I then proceeded to do this five times, over and over again. I did not slice – I simply stabbed. I aimed for a beautiful blue vein and went to town.

As for the class – they cheered me on. That was until the blood began to seep out from the wound I had created. For some odd reason as I sat there, the blood flowing across my fingers and onto the carpet, the class actually became frightened and the one who had lead the attacks all these years ran for the teacher and told her what had happened.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who you were at the time I guess, the damage I had done was not terrible enough that I found myself on deaths door – no.

I didn’t need stitches, but I did need a few Kleenexes and a good couple large band aids that needed to be changed a few times over the course of the day because the blood kept seeping through. I was fixed up at the nurses office, and the leader of the bullies was expelled.

Well, it only took three years.

As previously mentioned, he was their leader, so after that the physical violence died down. The verbal attacks didn’t though. If anything, the classes seemed more pissed off than ever that I had survived.

There was one teacher at the school who was particularly nice though, and he told me that as students grew older the attacks would die down, and very gradually I guess they did over the next three years. Very slowly, but still, they died down.

Of course, the one change that happened in year nine was that I changed myself. I began to stop caring what people thought, and I instead wore that ‘freak’ title they gave to me like a badge. This was of course after my little incident with the scissors. They thought I was a freak, and so I made sure that they would not forget it.

I survived high school. I made a couple friends here and there that are still friends to this day, and I was loathed by all the rest.

I am certain that lots of people have experienced worse than I. I agree with All World Issues that bullying is pretty horrible, but it ain’t going to stop. I don’t get bullied any more, but I know that some people don’t like me, but you’ll get that wherever you go.

I think you can either attempt to outgrow those who hate you and not care, or let it consume and overwhelm you until it takes control of your life. It is difficult to avoid the unavoidable, so me recommending that option is like me recommending you avoid the killer shark that is one second away from making you yet another trophy between its teeth.

Bullying gradually will become worse. There are numerous news stories about people been stabbed at school and murdered, and I am glad I didn’t become a news story.

Anti-bullying campaigns don’t work, and neither do the videos. You will never stop it; you just have to outlive it. If you can do that, then you have officially conquered it. This is my view, and not that of All World Issues.

That particular young lady wishes to start a campaign to build awareness against bullying and has other great ideologies in regards to such a plan. I’m glad that such a person is committed to such goals. I wish her luck and anyone else who attempts such a plan.

You ain’t gonna stop bullying for it is imbedded inside human culture, and honestly, how are you going to change human culture when there are 7.4 billion human beings on the planet. Now, many of them have not bullied others. Many of them have never been bullied. But the other couple billion people have either bullied or been bullied. I ask those who wish to help, can you really help solve all that pain?

People are capable of the greatest of things. They are capable of love, of happiness, of amazing intellect, of generosity, of selflessness. People can also do unspeakable evil. They are capable of hate, misogyny, and violence. This is human nature. Everyone can do good, just as everyone can do bad. Can you really change a couple thousand years of evolution?

Getting her out of my System

 

It would seem that I am still having considerable trouble attempting to adapt to a life that does not involve the woman that I had fallen for. After been told two Sunday’s ago that a relationship was not a possibility because the feelings I have are not shared by the woman that I love, my, you could say, heart, is still yet to properly fathom that information. Or perhaps it is just my ego, since I had not expected the negative response that I had given to me to be orchestrated. So, in an attempt to get over Elisha, the woman I still remarkably have feelings for after been rejected, I am dedicating this post to her, whilst hoping that releasing my feelings will help me move forward.

True, I am only twenty two and I shouldn’t be feeling a little desperate like it’s my final hour alive and I have no more time to waste looking for my one true love (I know, sickening, right?), but sometimes I just get fed up from not having someone with me. I don’t like beginning relationships after I have been in a previous one for a long term period, and the last relationship I was involved in concluded in January of 2011. I immediately began to develop feelings for Elisha in March of that same year, but I did not react on them based on principle – that, and I could not believe for a second that I would fall for another person so quickly, and an Australian for that.

Now, maybe I seem a little crude with my negative connotation of Australian’s in my last paragraph, but, and I have admitted this before so I don’t think I’m shaming myself too much by saying this; I have not once in my life had a romanticised relationship with an Australian woman before. I had a very close friendship with one Australian, who was a very good friend of mine, and I wanted it to be developed into something more and it was indeed on the verge of becoming a full blown romanticised relationship when that concluded. Forgive me if I fail to go into the details of that occurrence, which is a story quite unlike Elisha and I, and one I am not keen to divulge.

I will say that every time I have asked an Australian woman out (which is four times now), it has always been a negative response. Now, you may think ‘four times? That ain’t much’, but the thing with me is, I become attracted to people really easily. I don’t react on attraction. I rarely fall in love though, and I only attempt to have a relationship with someone when my feelings are absolute and true. My feelings for Elisha were this. That is why it will take me time to get over her, although I wish it was not the case. Somehow, we continuously seem to be bumping into each other more and more, despite the fact that there should only be another fourteen days left in the year when there is the distinct possibility of us seeing one another – then she will leave to Darwin and never return, and honestly, right now, I think I will be quite happy with that conclusion – because with Elisha in Melbourne – it is incredibly painful to have my failure, you could say, walking around.

Apparently it would seem that she could think less of me – in fact, it would even seem that if a single thought of me went through Elisha’s mind, it would be the fastest thing that was ever recorded. I mean absolutely nothing to her, and that is why it hurts – my feelings for her are the complete opposite of her own – on top of that, I always want what I cannot have, and I certainly cannot have Elisha, just like I cannot be King of Mars, which is why I want her so.

I have mentioned in the past, although I don’t think it was on this site, but to Elisha herself, that the aspect that attracted me to her was her capability to work proficiently. Whenever she put her mind to a task, she endeavored to complete said task to the best of her ability, and I found this trait to be quite attractive.

Whenever I have fallen for a woman, it was never her gorgeous good looks that made me have feelings for them; it was always another part of them; their intellect; their personality; their talent. In the case of Elisha, as previously mentioned, it was her work ethic, and because the feelings I had did not manifest from physical attraction originally, I knew that what I felt was real and true.

One thing I always found interesting about Elisha, was her communication style. When communing with friends, she was always loquacious. I will have to admit, I am not usually fond of people who talk a lot, and to be honest with you, I am quite often not very fond of the friends that the women I fall for have, and the same especially went for Elisha.

However, returning to her style of communication. Although she was garrulous among friends, when it came to speaking with people of authority, including communication professionals, or talking with groups that were consistent of ten people or more, she would suddenly become incredibly nervous. This shyness of hers I found odd, for physically and mentally I felt there was nothing wrong with her that would cause this trait of hers to manifest itself so strongly that it would cause her to squeak like a mouse or stammer on her words.

What I felt most intriguing about my feelings was that it seemed I had convinced myself that a relationship was possible because Elisha liked me just as I liked her. I have actually mentioned below what drew me to such conclusions, and what alternatively could have shown me that I was terribly wrong:

-In April, I rested my arm on the back of Elisha’s chair and she pulled away. If there was ever a clearer ‘no’, I am yet to see it.

-In late August, I provided Elisha with information that would help with a PowerPoint presentation assignment after she asked for my assistance. I had mentioned to her earlier in the year that I did not give out things for free and would ask for something in return, a condition which she accepted. This time, I mentioned to her that if she happened to use any of the info I provided, that perhaps she ought to take me out to dinner as a sign of ‘thanks’. The next time we saw each other, her friend went to sit near me, and Elisha dragged her away and said ‘I think he likes me’ and indicated towards me before sitting as far away from where I was seated as possible. No?

-Elisha felt confident enough to admit to me that she was nervous about giving the PowerPoint presentation to the class. I consulted her and told her ‘you’ll do fine gorgeous’ and squeezed her arm, and she did nothing to stop me from doing so.

-Elisha never used the information I provided to her. Or said she didn’t. Both are no’s I wager?

-Elisha skipped two classes that I was in after the presentations.

-The next time I saw Elisha, she said ‘hi’ to me, and said so in a very nervous tone. Yes? No?

-In that same class, she moved to sit closer to her friend, and then for the rest of the class couldn’t keep her eyes off me. I thought at the time that she had thought about a relationship with me and had concluded that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

-Closer towards the end of the semester, I invited Elisha to a book launch that I was invited to. She said ‘no’ – a friend of hers had a birthday. The launch was moved back by two days and so I invited Elisha again, and received another ‘no’ – she was busy – a friend’s birthday. Two birthday’s in one week – that is either one helluva coincidence – or one helluva ‘no’ – maybe she simply lacked imagination to come up with a more decent reason not to go with me.

-However, after the book launch, Elisha apologised to my face for not being able to go. I said that it was no problem; that, as I had put it ‘I got two chicks to go with me’, these two women being friends of mine. Elisha suddenly looked taken aback by this comment and said ‘oh’ in a very jealous tone and quickly changed the subject.

-Back in May of this year, after Elisha and I had not communicated for quite a while, she said ‘hi Naughty’ (Naughty not being my real name) when I walked past her. She had been waiting for her friends to accompany her out, neither of whom had arrived when she spoke to me out of the blue.

-The week after during class, Elisha frequently looked in my direction from where she was seated right on the other side of the room.

So that is what influenced me to think that Elisha liked me, yet, at the same time made me wonder if she felt nothing for me at all.

Was I right to think that Elisha liked me? Obviously not since she apparently doesn’t, but, seriously, I think this is a must for me; was I right to make such interpretations based on the experiences that I mentioned above? Call it my need to know, and since Elisha wants nothing to do with me now, I sure can’t ask her such a question.

Also, I know that Elisha has stated that she doesn’t want to begin anything too serious for at the moment she wishes to study, and then focus on her career for the next five to ten years. Would this have anything to do with her answer to my relationship? Before you may or may not answer that, please consider this – Elisha has said in the past that she wants to fall in love. So, with that said, I ask again – does her want to focus on work affect her relationship capabilities?

I know that a couple bloggers have respectively told me that I should respect her wishes to not continue a relationship, move on, or even make her partially regret not having a relationship with me. I agree, all of these are important notions that I have accepted. I only wish to have answers to help me better understand where everything went wrong to help me officially move on, and to ensure I don’t make the same outrageous mistakes again in the future.

Thank you for reading and for any answers you may provide.

Sincerely and with kind regards

Naughty Nefarious.

Triangle of love? No mate, it’s the Bermuda Triangle baby!

 

I never truly knew the dire repercussions of a love triangle until very recently. I knew of them, don’t get me wrong, but my first hand experience of such matters was negligible. I had never known anyone to be involved in such a consequential matter, and I myself had never actually endured such agony. Perhaps ‘agony’ is too strong a word, but I do believe such terminology is applicable in this instance for in the end, there will be pain, and no doubt it will be I who is suffering it.

Anyone who is familiar with some of my previous posts will know that I indeed do have feelings for a certain someone; a young woman who I had plans of confessing my feelings to this week. Now, before I continue let me state that I am not intentionally creating the illusion of a love triangle in order not to tell this young woman the way I feel about her. I had every intention of doing so – and note the use of the past tense there too.

That was of course up until two weeks ago. It was at that unscheduled time that I happened to come across another woman, who was just as beautiful, if not even more so, who stole my little heart away. Now, you may read this and think ‘you bastard! I can tell now why you use the pseudonym ‘naught nefarious’!’, but allow me to assure you that the physicality of a woman’s beauty is never the first thing to attract me to them if I am legitimately infatuated with said individual.

In the case of my initial crush in this instance, it was the commitment she applied to her work and how she would endeavor to do her absolute best when accomplishing whatever it was she was working on. Second, her intellect – she was incredibly smart and very sophisticated at creating well coherent sentences that were a pleasure to listen to and thirdly, had a great personality.

Now, the new woman who happened to come waltzing into my life? What was it that attracted me to her? It was none other than her writing style. If anything, I would have to say that she is quite possibly the best writer I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Her work was flawless, well edited and perfectly presented. She could write poetically, plainly, sexually and entertainingly all in the one sentence and have you eating out from the palm of her hand at but the very vision of the first word written at the beginning of her paragraph.

Now, unlike my initial crush, I am yet to meet this new woman. I have known my initial crush for going on two years and only late last year came to the realisation that I perhaps had feelings for her. I only just came to the conclusion that I liked this new woman two weeks ago. However, although we are yet to meet, I can tell from her writing that she is incredibly intelligent and would be a pleasure to communicate with.

Moving on, I have never actually been attracted to two women at the same time. For me, it used to be that I had feelings for one woman, and one woman only, and the only way I could sufficiently move on with my life after gaining such feelings was to do one of two things; either A) have a relationship with this woman, or B) discover beyond a reasonable doubt that no relationship could ever happen.

With this said, I have officially entered quite an awkward, alien situation I fear, and am having great difficulty deciding which path to choose. Of course, by ‘path’, I mean which avenue to take, and by which ‘avenue’ I mean, – oh, hell, quit the vague references – what I mean is, that I need to choose which woman I wish to dedicate my time to discovering if a relationship could work with.

Perhaps this is blatantly cold? I really don’t know – what I can tell you, is that although neither woman knows of the other’s existence, I feel as though I am cheating on both women with the other just by having the exact same feelings for them both.

Of course, funnily enough, the woman I have known for two years does not even realise that I like her, and the woman I have only known for two weeks knows full well that I have a thing for her. I do not know that by confessing feelings to one woman means I have already, without my own knowledge of it, chosen the woman that I would prefer to continue a plausible relationship with?

Of course, allow me to say one more thing on the subject – the woman I was attracted towards first is, like me, an Australian, and is at present living in the same city as I. Makes it easy to be with her. The new woman – she’s an American, and lives on the other side of the friggin’ globe! Such would make having a relationship with her more difficult. But perhaps that is why I found it easier to tell her how I feel, and easier to communicate with, because deep down I realise no relationship of any sort could ever be sparked, for it is always easier to tell those who you do not know how you feel. This here may be part of the same circumstance.

So, as previously mentioned I have myself a small situation that I cannot escape from. I need to choose which woman I wish to have a relationship with, and I fear perhaps inevitably make the wrong decision in the process. Of course, when I do make my decision, I will not be able to take it back, so I need to make, with absolute certainty, the right one.

Who would have known that love could be so difficult? I’m only twenty something! Can’t life just gimmie a break?

(Heavy sigh) I honestly am not sure what I am going to do. To be honest with you, I don’t even know why I’m writing this post – to relieve myself of the over burdening hold on my heart? I do not know.

Well, here’s hoping everything works out. Thank you for reading,

Naughty Nefarious, signing off

Talk is Cheap, but Silence is Golden

 

Why must we talk at breakfast, lunch and dinner with our families?

Who stated this had to happen?

Where did it all start?

Who can we blame?

Well, no offence, but this is the American’s doing. Yep, Americans and their drama serials, soaps and sitcoms, where the happy, stereotypical American family is portrayed as sitting around the dinner table and communicating to one another about their day.

Now, before you start sending in your hate mail allow me to state that the Americans have done a lot for us over the years. However, I do not think sitting around the table and talking to your family about your day and incorporating this ideology into a TV show and basically telling the entire world ‘you are not a good family if you don’t do this’ would be one of the many good things they have done for the world. No, not at all. In my view, it is a very, very bad thing.

Now, I will admit that at the moment not having a partner to share my life with can perhaps be a bit lonely. I wake up alone. I go to bed alone. I go to work alone. I go to university alone. I have breakfast for one, lunch for one, dinner for one and wine for seven.

I’m joking about that last part…or am I?

But at the end of the day the benefit (if you could call this a benefit) is that I don’t need to talk to anyone and I can enjoy a blissful silence with myself and my food. The day my food starts talking to me is not only a day I can officially wait for, but the day I send myself to a nice little place with rubber rooms and men in white suits.

When I ever eat with my family, it’s a completely different story. All three meals of the day if I happen to be present for them go something like this. ‘Chew, bla, bla, bla, chew, bla, bla, bla, chew, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, chew’, and it just gradually gets worse from there.

As you can probably tell by now, I’m not exactly known for my socialising skills, especially when they happen to involve a dinner table. The issue I have, and I don’t know if anyone else has this problem, is that I like to taste my food. I like to enjoy my food. I like to be satisfied with my food. And I cannot eat, nor enjoy, nor be satisfied with my food when I am engaged in a conversation.

Maybe I’m a few tiles short of a roof, but I can’t seem to concentrate on doing two things at once when I am engaged in filling my body with the necessary requirements to keep me self alive for an extra few hours.

I guess anyone reading this might be looking for a point or a punch line to this whole post…I just don’t see the point why we as a species have been taught that we simply must fill our eating experiences with dialogue.

In documentary’s, I am yet to see one where two lions are gorging down the carcass of a zebra and one lion turns the other and says ‘so honey, how was your day?’ Of course, to the human ears it might sound a bit more like ‘roar, grrr, arr, roar, roar, meow’, but still, they don’t do that either.

Now, I am not saying that everyone should just shut up and eat. I can allow for some minor conversation. But I don’t see why the beginning, the middle and the end of the dinner and everything in-between must be flooded with continued conversation.

Can we not allow for a bit of silence? A bit like what Uma Thurman insinuated to John Travolta in Pulp Fiction – you know when you have found the perfect person to spend your life with when you can simply sit back and enjoy an uncomfortable silence with them.

So why that ideology cannot be spread by American television rather than this talk at the table every morning, noon and night garbage is beyond me.

If anyone reads this wishes to make a comment and say whether they like conversing a lot at dinner or believe that a little bit of silence every once in a while is golden, I would be quite appreciative to know what the people of the world think.

Thank you for reading,

Naughty Nefarious, signing off!