Romance is for Democrats, and women.

And women too, actually.

Myself, I have a hairy chest. I could shave it once a week and still make locks of love happy.

I mean, one time I went into the mountains, found the legendary fire breathing grizzly bear, beat its ass with my bare hands, woke up it up after it blacked out, just to kick its ass again.

The forest was on fire, but did I care?

FUCK NO I didn’t care, because I am a god damn man!

I love pussy, and cheeseburgers, and the American Flag, and I even love tiny little American Flags that I get to wave around on the fourth of July while I celebrate the freedom I enjoy by blowing shit up!

God damn pussy-bleeding-heart-liberal-new-wave-faggot-marylin-manson-loving-hippies!

 

Oh, and those Mexi-CAN(not’s)

 and Muslams!

 

SHIT!

 

America and apple pie with american cheese on it…that’s what I love.

 

…

 

So, now if you will excuse me, I would like to talk about some sappu, mushy, pussy stuff.

 

It really took my 25 years to get it.

Honestly, some people say I’m not dumb (although I disagree), but it still took me twenty five years to realize that I could actually love someone like this. It’s just weird that it has been someone I have known for so long.

 

Rachael and I have known eachother since we were thirteen. At about eighteen, we lost contact for a few years because we both had our life’s take us to different places.

We met up again a while ago, and since then have not been able to spend a night without eachother. It’s seriously crazy.

I never thought I was capable of love.

I hate almost everyone, and the ones that I don’t hate have seemed to squeek by on a mild level of not wanting to kill them.

I love a few friends the way I love my family.

In that regard, I knew I was capable of love, but only because loving my blood is an inheret and immediate affect of being part of a family, the friends I have that I consider family have honestly earned the title through years of give and take…and honestly, an ability to put up with my stupid ass and socially offensive behavior.

Especially when I’m fucked up.

 

…

But love…

Love the way they write about in books.

That love…that love I knew nothing about.

I was completely certain it did not exist, and if it did…it was not something that I would be allowed. 

 

And then, out of nowhere, comes Rachael…just waltzing back into my life.

I asked her to join my band.

We jammed for a few hours one night.

Then, I somehow convinved her to lay in bed with me…because I always thought people were so stupid when they would say that, "When you meet the right person, something in you just knows. You don’t even know you know, but you feel this ‘knowing’ that just makes you feel it’s right."

I had two justifications against this form of reasoning.

Justification 1=  That’s the dumbest shit I have ever heard. You can’t trust anyone, ever! They will all rob you blind, and if they don’t…well, they will give you aids.

Justification 2= If anyone really dose deserve happiness, well, it’s not me. 

 

But, that night looking at her…I realized instantly that she is right for me.

And when it’s right, it’s right.

And I have not spent a night away from her since, except for a few nights she was in Hawaii visiting family…but I didn’t like those nights.

And now I’m going to get more sappy.

I love the way her eyes change color depending on the lighting, or her mood.

I love the way that she can’t sleep without tossing and turning all night, or her huge pillow snuggled between her legs.

I love what a great cook she is, and she is still nice enough to tell me that I’m a good one too.

I love that her daughter says that she loves me, and will ask me for a kiss and a hug if I’m not going to see her for an hour or two.

I love that she makes me want to do things in my life that I have  never wanted to do for anyone…I have never been selfless, and I want to be for her.

I love that she has known me for so long. She has seen me at my worst and my best before we ever started dating.

I love that she is so responsible. I lack in that area so hard, and I admire how much she can be put through and still keep going on…it’s truly amazing.

I love how she thinks my dumbass is funny. Not a lot of people are willing to put up for me for a very long time, but she acctually get’s my humor and realizes that I prefer none-sense to reality. I really got lucky with that.

I love that I think she is funny. I have spent the last 48 hours with her and there has not been a second I regret. She is so funny and smart, I can seriously just sit and hang out with her forever.

I love that she knew the movie, "wet hot American summer" before I had to introduce her to it…that movie is the prime rib.

And I guess, most important, I love the fact that when we argue, which is so rare, we can actually have the understanding, love, and patience with eachother to hear both points out until we both realize that the entire thing was a mis-understanding.

We are willing to go beneath a mis-understanding and really find out what one another meant despite the feelings that were hurt from improper communication.

I have never felt anything like this before.

This is who I am going to be with for the rest of my life.

I never wanted marriage.

I never wanted kids.

But here I am…

…tired.

worn out.

Irritated.

hopeless.

Still a drunk.

jobless…

Yet. I have never been happier in my life.

Just because I got laid off doesn’t mean I can’t find a new job.

Echo starts school on tuesday and I have a few work prospects, so Rachael won’t have to work so much, I won’t have to spend all day with Echo.

Everything is going to be alright.

And don’t get me wrong…I still think I’m a worthless waste of carbon.

Nothing is going to change that.

Rachael just makes it easier to swallow.

Plus she kicks ass at bass and vocals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh yeah…I already have the diamond.

Just btw.

 

 

Fuck you french fried frogs, bleeding heart hippies, and vagina bleeding bitches!

 

You know.

Just for good measure.