Fictional account of life events of a poor dumb bastard trying to be in the world and in the Truth at the same time.
20140127
Dead Rents
In college I learned to abbreviate pa(rents) thusly. My mom died suddenly last week. But then she was in her late 70's so it wasn't such a shock. The turn out for the funeral was very good and the congregation she attended (not the one I usually attend, of course) was tremendously supportive. I have never been so amazed at how nice people in this organization can be. Then again it was for my mom and not for me.
That sad sinking feeling that I am not worthy continues abated only briefly as I stood in amazement of what the congregation can do when they put their mind to it. And it isn't like they really had to think about it that hard. They just did it. Kudos to that congregation and to my mom for a life of faithful service to God. I hate myself so much that at times I feel like I can smell it or taste it. It seems and feels palpable. I have always loved beauty and nothing more than beautiful women. Some of my earliest memories are around very pretty women (or girls when I myself was just a boy.) But they could always get, and wanted, someone better than me. I can rent them but I will never own one it seems. I always thought it was just a matter of time before I would marry a beautiful woman. I did marry someone I really loved but that worked out horribly. Now I am old and fat, and beautiful women have no interest in me. I am poor and all but broke. Being an obvious minority doesn't help. Being socially inept is a killer. It just isn't happening, and probably never will.
I have tried to come closer to God in recent times but, as is typical, other things are getting in the way. Watching nrop is fading a bit, but that is just the ebb and flow of interest. It will come back and I feel powerless to stop it (even though I know God is not powerless to stop it if I were to rely on Him,which is a tremendous source of frustration.)
Thursday: I think (well actually when I think I have done something silly, I usually have done something monumentally stupid) that I missed another opportunity to chat up a woman. In the fitness room at a hotel and met ran into the same woman working out the second day in a row at a hotel. She spoke first. I responded while looking down at my phone. Dugh! Actually I was trying to be casual, not showing too much interested. In reality I was must have actedlike an *sshole. Humpf, I guess the shoe fits. There seems to be just no way to improve my social skills.
Friday: I am getting cycled through a series of group activity opportunities. One came across that looks good, an intellectual chat group. I signed up but I know that means there is now a 5% chance I'll go, (up from 0.5%)
Monday: The weekend was a bust. Didn't go to the meeting. I spent the night (actionless) with my ex. She wants to get back together. I want my son to get along with her and that's all. At one point I could see myself getting together with her but not anymore. When we are out together I am usually aware of any other pretty woman walking by. That tells me that I am just not into her. So I want to just stop seeing her unless there is an obvious benefit because of the son.
I looked at nrop twice again (after 4 weeks sober.) There appears to be no stopping this. Oh well, God hates what I do and will kill me for it as far as I can tell. I wish there was a way I could enjoy myself in the knowledge that I'm not trying anymore, but there isn't. The world hates me too.
I can tell I am not ready to start another work week, but hell, its Monday and time to go to work.
I keep wishing I can start over.
I guess the biggest thing I miss is having any friends. Even some "friends" would be nice but I don't have any of those either. The principal source of either such style of acquaintance should be the congregation and they continue appearing dead set against having anything to do with me. Maybe if/when my son is reinstated they will talk to me again.
In any case now, not only do I have myself to get organized, I have to help my siblings get organized since the death of my mother. What a classic jerk I am. IHMS, ISFHMS.
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