Lost in translation

Since returning from Mexico, one thought has been weighing heavy on my mind. You see, I don’t speak spanish. Well, I can speak a little bit but I don’t understand much at all. Where I was, that wasn’t much of a problem. Most everyone I encountered spoke enough English that I was able to get what I needed. Furthermore, I was surrounded by tourists and expats, most of whom were native English speakers. Still, not being able to effectively communicate in the language of the country I was in left me feeling lost.

The thought that has been on my mind however is that this is how I feel most of the time. Even though I speak English fluently, as do most of the people I regularly engage with in conversation, I feel like we are speaking different languages. My words, my experiences, my perceptions, when communicated to another person take on different meanings depending on the other person’s understanding of the words or their own experiences and perceptions. I work really hard at effective communication but it still seems to me that I fail as often as I succeed. Well… it may be more accurate to say that we fail since communication is a two-way street.

I think we all want to be understood and I think we all are frustrated with how often that doesn’t happen. I think we settle for being heard. Too often, we don’t listen, we don’t open ourselves up for feedback and we don’t try to understand. We just put our words out there and expect that to be good enough. If we don’t get what we want we can blame the other person for not listening. If they interpret our words in a way that we don’t like, we feel judged or attacked. We react defensively rather than in a manner that might enhance actual communication.

I’m all too aware of this problem. When I’m sober I spend much of my time terrified of being misunderstood. For some reason, that really matters to me. I struggle with every word and often find it really difficult to say anything. This post seems to be taking me forever and it’s not because I don’t have the thoughts in my head. I’m just having a hard time finding the right words. Of course when I’m drunk it’s almost impossible to get me to shut up. Drunk communication has it’s own set of pitfalls however.

Sometimes I wish I could say whatever was on my mind no matter what. I wish I didn’t fear being misunderstood or judged. At the very least, I wish I didn’t care so much. But perhaps that’s not all a bad thing. I’m just trying to find the balance.

 

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Alone again

So last night was amazing. I didn’t stay sober but that was expected. In that respect everything went as expected. I woke up this morning on my couch in the living room, a spoon in an open jar of peanut-butter, still wearing my clothes from the night before and one combat boot.

And I was alone. I don’t know if I expected that to be different but I was certainly open to the possibility. I’m really starting to wonder if that is a realistic possibility. I’m seriously starting to doubt whether anyone is getting laid these days. I ran into a friend of mine, a totally hot, horny, polyamorous, bisexual married woman who is not having sex. Seriously, if she’s not getting any then who the fuck is?

I somehow feel like this is partly my fault. I’m trying. I’m doing everything in my power to make myself as sexually desirable as possible. I want there to be more sex in the world. I certainly want there to be more sex for me but I feel like the traditional avenues have been cut off. All of my life goals are completely contrary to being in a relationship so it’s not going to happen that way. The drunk hookup clearly isn’t happening but I don’t think that is really what I want either. Prostitution, although I don’t have any moral objection to it, has never been a turn on for me.

So I’m left with the sober hookup or having sex with friends. The sober hookup is only going to happen if I am really, really horny and kind of desperate. As much as I love, want and need sex my sober self still finds it kind of gross. It’s smelly and sweaty and I don’t care how hot a person is, the human body is just inherently kind of disgusting. Alcohol can help me look past all of that but really what allows me to be attracted to someone is being able to see inside that person. I need to connect with their soul.

That means that I need to deal with all of the emotional complications that come with having sex. I’m okay with that. In fact I’m more than okay with that. It’s actually the emotional connection that I’m seeking. If it was just physical I would totally be happy with masterbation but I’m not. I still feel like there is something missing. I want to be able to share that pleasure with somebody but it needs to be somebody that I deeply care about.

Fortunately I care about a lot of people. I just need to take the time to do the caring. If I’m going to have the kind of sex that I want it’s going to take an investment of time. Since a romantic relationship is not something that I have to offer and what most people are seeking in sexual situations it’s also going to take a lot of clear communication. I think it’s natural for the heart to turn to romance when sex and emotions are brought together. I just don’t want to create any false expectations. I know how bad that can turn out.

So it’s going to be a challenge. That’s okay, I’m always up for a challenge. At least now I have some clear and realistic expectations. I know it’s not going to “just happen”. I know it’s not just a matter of luck. It’s going to take work and it’s going to take time. At least I don’t have to feel like a loser for not getting any.

Blacked out and lucky

“Sometimes I go to extremes
That’s how I understand what’s in between
Moderation in all things
has got to include moderation it seems”

– Cute Drunk by J Evan LeFreak

I had thought that I lived a pretty wild life but last night really showed me just how tame my life is. That’s probably a good thing. I don’t need to be doing that every day but from time to time it’s a good idea to remind my self just where that limit is.

It all started pretty normal. I had worked 14 hours the day before and didn’t get to bed until 5 in the morning. I woke up around noon with half a dozen txt messages wishing me “Happy Father’s Day”. I responded to them and called my dad to wish him the same. I had hoped that my daughter and I could spend the day at the Stone Arch Art & Music Festival but she wasn’t feeling well so I just drove out to her place and we went for a little walk. I also got to talk to my son who is away at college and spending the summer doing a work study job. He sent me this video.

Done with all my fatherly and son duties it was time for this dad to go play. I hopped on my bike and rode to Grumpy’s. Last summer this was a regular Sunday afternoon activity but not so much this year. I had one beer there before it started to rain and I decided to head to the Knight Cap with has a covered patio. There I met a group of servers who were proceeding to get shit faced wasted after working Father’s day brunch at a nearby restaurant. We became instant friends. I don’t know if it was the pink cowboy hat or the fact that I always answer 24 when someone asks how old I think they are but they really took a liking to me.

After a few drinks at the Knight Cap “G”,”V” & “J” dragged me off to the strip club. It was at this point that I realized I had lost all control over the evening and that I was okay with that. I was concerned about “G” driving because because she seemed pretty drunk but did fine on the way to the strip club. From the strip club to the Saloon is another story. I seriously thought we were going to die.

To make a long story short because I’m running out of time to write and because my memory is a bit foggy from this point on… we did make it to the Saloon alive. I lost track of the crew there and decided to leave. I checked the parking spot and they had left as well. That was fine with me because there was no way I was getting back in that car. The next thing I remember was arriving at Pizza Luce. I don’t remember the walk there so I assume it wasn’t very memorable. I don’t remember if I ordered pizza but I probably did. I know that at this point I had burned through most of the $100 I had when I left the house.  I had just enough money to take a cab home.

I woke up this morning at half past noon feeling a bit hung over and my butt cheek hurting for some reason. My bike is hopefully still locked up outside the Knight Cap. Other than that and the spending too much money, all is good.

What amazes me is that I used to have nights like that all the time. It kind of puts things in perspective. I’m glad that my life has calmed down a bit but I wouldn’t even be aware of that unless I occasionally pushed the limits.

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