A Burning Question

Claire often tells me, people don’t want to read about me having sex. They’d rather hear about the times I don’t get laid, or when I DO get laid – but its hilarious. Well, good thing this post is about a friend of mine and not me. For the sake of this piece, we’ll call him Towny.

Over a series of 3 consecutive days, Towny lived a life he had yearned to experience for a long time. Best of all, he did it by working for it.

He spent a glorious day with an absolutely gorgeous Chinese girl who wanted to have his babies. Literally. She was beautiful and very caring. She longed for nothing more than his love and warmth. They shared great intense sex and fell asleep holding each other, both feeling content.

The next day, he met a fucking cool Korean American girl. She had a story for every occasion and a wisdom beyond her years. Despite only knowing her for 4 hours, he bedded her and they fell asleep holding eachother. Their time was filled with an awesome energy, with the novelty and unfamiliarity of it all amplifying their feelings up to 11.

The next day he walked into his $40 per hour job, the most he had ever earned in any job to date.

That night he went to Krav Maga class for the 4th week in a row – a long term goal of his that he had put off for a long time. He felt like less of a hypocritical douchebag – having talked about doing it for 2 years – every time he went.

Around a year earlier he had been drunk & depressed, sitting at his desk living out in Clifton Hill. Unhappy with his lot, never having bedded his Asian fantasies, he set out 2 goals for himself – “I have to live in the city again and do krav maga.”

He was there. He had achieved that goal, and more.

Towny was back in town, this time bedding beautiful Asian women, earning the most money he ever had, and finally working towards his long put off goal of learning Krav Maga.

Why then, did he hit the bottle that night? Crying, whilst lamenting the unexplained discord he felt in his core?

Is he destined to always be unhappy? Despite not losing all the weight, he had achieved the life he wanted. The limiting beliefs – about being too fat for gorgeous Asian women to find him attractive, were quashed. It had been bullshit. He was good looking and able to seduce many types of women and it had finally been proven. There were no more excuses not to move toward his goals. It had taken him 28 years to figure this out.

He had found the niche he wanted for himself but it wasn’t enough. He was still working in IT and despite being paid very well for it, he hated every minute. He could not engage himself in it, despite now reaching a level where he was paid to manage and engage other people in its minutiae. He loathed to talk about his work or even just tell people what he did it for a living..

So what place in the world would satiate him? Did one exist? Is there ever truly such a place for somebody? Probably not, for someone with a grass is greener attitude, who had already thrown away amazing girls due to his urge to manwhore with hot Asians and be free of commitment..

The irony is, despite his urge for freedom, the guy just can’t fucking handle being alone.

Quite the sticky wicket.

But even if he knew his place in the world and got into it, what reason then to keep existing at all? Perhaps perpetual discord is a drive to keep on changing.

If only it didn’t hurt him so fucking much and he had a coping mechanism other than hitting the sauce and fucking women instead of engaging them as long term friends.

If only.