Playing the Right Game

I have been trying since my first official girlfriend to have a family. Though there was something wrong with the way she self lubricated so I had to wear condoms with her. 

No children there.

When I did have a child, it was not certain that it was mine. 

It still isn’t.

If the boy is my son, then it should be proven by a paternity test. I should get to be in his life. If that is my son, his mother shouldn’t have run off with him and left me to find out in a facebook message that, after two years, he’s mine. 

It’s not like I didn’t find her when she was in my hometown and at least ask how the boy was doing. But as I couldn’t see him anywhere, I assumed he was where I was told he would be. With his grandmothers, a lesbian couple with a stuck up butch partner from hell.

I hope the boy is safe. All my attempts to reach him and that side of his family have been thwarted time and time again.

I should have given up then.

But I tried again with a woman that seemed to not want to let me go. When she said she was pregnant, she also said it was mine. She drove me to the nearest WalMart and performed the pregnancy test in their bathroom and brought the results out to the car. She also said she was keeping it.

“Ok,” I said.

When she had the baby, I was in county jail. I don’t remember the charge. I got the opportunity to call her from within and she had had the baby 4 days earlier.

When I first saw him, he looked like gold. Because I rarely flirt with girls if they aren’t (I guess) of a White, Spanish, Irish, or Black heritage (can’t work up the courage on Asian girls), my son Johnny is a mix of Black and Indigenous skin from me and whatever White mix she told me (or anyone) she was. For simplicity’s sake, he’s Black and White. Mixed, as they say.

But then, I got locked out of heaven when Johnny’s mom yelled into the ethos at a recreation center near the mountains and when the police came to eventually arrest her, they took my boy and started a process I’ll never forget. 

The one where they wouldn’t give me time to get off of drugs, where they wouldn’t let his mother take care of him, or my sister in Boston… 

The process took a few months and I couldn’t piss clean for a month straight.

I lost my son that way.

Between his mother and I, the plan was that she would take care of him, but I was so far out of it that there was no telling when I could actually join my family as the father.

The twist in this story is that I had proposed that she and I get hitched a year or so before the pregnancy.

She and I were both waiting for me to set the date.

So here we are. At this crucial moment where I am about to declare something awfully sad, but so cliche it hurts that I’m going to do it anyway.

What I’m going to do is forget about family and marriage. I’m going to figure out what my deal is. 

Of course, I’m sticking with women based on beauty, sexual attraction, and chemistry. But how far it goes with them is up for debate.

I can’t just chase tail and bring her home and see if she stays. That was my whole motive at my second apartment (the dangerous studio apartment I blogged about earlier). 

The lease I signed says a guest cannot stay longer than two weeks out of a month. 

(So unfair.)

So it looks like I’m available for… One Night Stands?

That’s it?

I guess I deserve that. I couldn’t cut it as a stand up guy. Couldn’t pull the trigger on an engagement. And my landlord/little sister is shaping up to be quite a handful. So perhaps it’s better this way.

We’re going to have to do something about condoms, though. Because if I have to strap up to get it on, I need to experiment with some ‘real feel’ type deals. Otherwise I’m ripping off the band-aid and playing like usual, which is making sure my partner and I are tested for STDs before we hook up.

Seeing as they’ll be one night stands it will be so difficult to tell that I might as well keep a few gold wrappers near the loveseat. 

…because I’m so poor I haven’t replaced the bed I set on a pair of couches that… wait a second!

This could be really fun.

Do you know how fun sex is on CHAIRS???

There are quite a few options here lol. I’m so serious- from the gaming chair at the desk to the armless chair in the corner to the table chairs in the off to the side of the desk, the loveseat, and if we must, the twin bed on a wood base without a frame (so the floor – plenty of room there!). 

All jokes aside, I think marriage and children will at least have to wait until women who have loyalty and motherhood built in already come along. With the prerequisite that they are not lunatics or under the thumb of sadists. 

Unless that sadist is me.

Be well.

“I said BE WELL. Now LIKE it! (Yeah, who’s your…)”

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