I give up.
To quote the legendary Roberto Durán:
I used to be into wrestling a lot. When I was a kid, I was obsessed. This was mid to late 80s, so Hulkamania was a major part of my life. I used to buy “Pro Wrestling Illustrated” magazines and devour them. I would order shit from magazines and join Fantasy Wrestling leagues, where my name was somehow mangled into C. NOBICO, and my finishing move was a piledriver from the second rope. I have no idea if that can even be possible, but hey, they accepted it, so that was it. In my time as a participant in this olde tyme Fantasy Wrestling, I think I won the tag team titles once.The Hulkster and Randy “Macho Man” Savage were my 2 main guys. I hated Andre the Giant and the Million Dollar Man, and the Ultimate Warrior came on and blew everyone out of the water. Bret “the Hitman” Hart was the coolest dude in the world in my eyes, and the Honky Tonk Man was a real dirty sumbitch.
Anyway, when me and my friends would fool around and do our own wrestling shows, one of the go-to moves was the Boston Crab (see first picture). Back then, it wasn’t the fucking Walls of Jericho, and in my eyes it will never be the Walls of Jericho. That’s a goddamn Boston Crab. And it was easy to do and can be genuinely painful. Another standby was the Camel Clutch THAT WOULD MAKE YOU HUMBEL, and my older brother would gleefully apply either one of those on me if he felt like it. At first I would laugh, but when he would keep yanking back, then shit got real. And of course, since he was older, and I idolized him (still do), I would let him until my back was screaming in agony. But hey, anything for my older bro.
I think that when it comes down to it, all of us are looking for pretty much the same thing. Call it happiness, if you want. There are aspects to it that are different for all of us, but it boils down to one basic. As social animals, and as rational beings, I think that finding a person to share your life with is that one thing that makes us all the same. A mate, a companion, a spouse… call it whatever you want. I think we’re meant to find someone and form our own little pods, our own dens and households. But that search man… that search can fuck you up something fierce.
In December of ‘05 I thought I’d found that person. Boy, was I wrong. After barely 3 months of “marriage,” it was all over, and I was torn apart. Since I can remember, the one constant in my life was the certainty that one day, I would have a loving family to call my own. I would work hard to make sure that I wasn’t an asshole like my father was and that I would never hurt my family like my father hurt us. But then reality kicked me square in the nuts.
Fuck your dreams, life said. You’re gonna marry who you think is the greatest woman in the world, but ho ho ho, she will cheat on you, lie to you, and leave you within a couple of months of promising to love you as long as you both lived. Oh, and when she leaves, she’ll be pregnant, but she doesn’t know if you’re the father or not. And you’ll call her every day for months begging for her to come back, but she’ll only continue to twist the knife deeper and deeper until it feels like you can’t breathe, and the only thing that will keep you going is the possibility that she’s carrying your child. Haha, take that! (this is still life talking, by the way)
And you know what? I took it. I’m still here, and I have a beautiful and amazing 5 year old daughter. My heart swells with love every time I see her, every time I hear her voice, every time I think of her. When I’m with her, there is nobody on earth that is happier than I am.
But that’s 4 days a month. I never wanted that.
The rest of the time? Yeah, exactly.
In my own fucked up way, I’ve tried. I am well aware that I’m scarred by what happened and that has affected every aspect of my life, including the way I approach a woman and how I express myself when I want to be with somebody. The few women I’ve liked and that I’ve had the guts to say something akin to that haven’t responded in that same way. When that happens, I’m knocked on my ass again. I shrivel up and go back into my cave, which isn’t a good place to be. And it’s not easy to leave that cave and try again.
Here’s what I want, to end this, because I’m tired of being so goddamn self-pitying, if that’s even a word.
I want somebody who cares about how my day was. Somebody who will listen to my horseshit and chuckle or scold me for bitching about how much I hate stupid little things like flip-flops. I want somebody with a good, caring, heart, who will reassure me that things will be fine, who will make me chicken soup when I’m sick, and who will spend a lazy Sunday with me watching mindless TV and eating crappy delivery pizza. I want to wake up in the morning knowing that somebody is thinking of me.
And what will I give? I will help you in whatever you need help. I will make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible and that you don’t have to worry about things in your life that drive you batshit. I will fix your computer and show you how to use the calendar application on your new phone. I will bring you lunch to work if you have to stay in, and pick you up at whatever hour you want me to. I will watch whatever movie you want because if I’m by your side, that’s the only thing that matters. I will listen to your office gossip and always take your side in whatever stupid argument you’re having with the person who has the next cubicle. Your happiness will be my top priority, because that will make me happy.
I guess I’m writing this because it’s the beginning of a New Year, and everybody is recapping and making their resolutions and all that. I don’t believe in New Year resolutions, and have never made them.
But for 2012, I’ll make an exception. At the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2013, I will hug my girlfriend and give her a great big, sloppy, drunken kiss. That’s my fucking resolution.
Although according to the Mayas we won’t make it that far anyway, so what difference does it make, right?