My Journey to Womanhood � or, well, probably just Becomming a Better Man.

2006-06-20 1:01 a.m.
I�ve recently found that I have to deal with a new beast. It�s a strange one, that�s held tight and hidden for a very long time. Suddenly, I�ve found it to be yet another adversary.

I always knew it existed � lurking behind some strange corner, but I�d been able to avoid it for so long. As a matter of fact, I didn�t even specifically avoid it. It just never made itself available. While looking within those around me, I knew I had to have my own following me around, but it just wouldn�t show.

I didn�t think of it too much � or not at all. I just kept an occasional idle eye upon it because I knew that it would smack me at the very worst time, when least expected, and I knew I would make a supreme ass of myself once it did. A few close guy friends of mine and a couple female have a similar thing going, so I never thought much of it.

And then, somewhere around my 26th birthday� ZAM.

Emotions.

(for timeline purposes, this is about 18 months ago)

I used to have somewhat of a reputation for complete emotional absence. Not, in any specific way. Not like�

�Hey, you seen Mark?�

�Fuck that emotionless prick!!�

Nothing like that. But I just recall in so many situations where people around me (of all kinds) were sad or crying or angry and I had to� well� fake it. It usually put me in a light of strength or reserve, which isn�t so bad.

Now, not to say I was completely unsympathetic. Just the opposite actually. I know for a fact my compassion was well within my reach. I can recall so many instances of� say�

�Man, I just don�t know what her problems is�

�Let me talk to her�

And within an hour or two of conversation, I have a new best friend who absolutely adores me for being able to understand and appreciate every thought and emotion they�d ever possessed. And I�m not just saying beating out other dudes� in plenty of instances, the anonymous character in that situation was a woman.

I could tap into the feelings and personal thoughts of men and women everywhere. I�d find the latch, open the floodgates, and next I know they�re telling me every personal detail they�d ever want to avoid telling another soul. And I mean some of the hardest fuckers you�d want to cross paths with. Tearing up - telling me about some girl or their mother or something, or carrying on about some nasty thing they�ve done in the past. I have, in my possession, some very serious and heinous secrets about some otherwise incredibly good people. Not that I really remember any of them, which I prefer.

(funny aside � with the �harder� types, you always have to have sort of a man-up moment after said discussion. Usually a joke to nullify the whole conversation or at least to transition to a more superficial one. That nullification joke is a bad idea when dealing with some women)

But I just didn�t feel many of my own �things.�

Sadness was inaccessible. I could tear up should I feel the need to display such things, but it was mostly insincere. Anger� incredibly rare occasion, and very strange and concise. When my anger would eventually break the lid, my words became scalpels, and my voice, volatile. Like a symphony of criticisms and strong points about everything that seemed out of tune and required immediate readjustment.

But overall these two things have, for the first 26 years of my life� actually between about 11 and 26� to be non-existent. Yeah... from a little after my grandmother passed (I bawled like the child I was) until a few months before I left NY. And I don�t think it was my grandmother that set it off. Soon after her passing, quite a few things went down in very strange ways for me and put me in some sort of �cool� mode. I mention her passing as that�s the last real time I recalled showing anything worth mentioning.

Small anecdote on the subject before I continue� I recall when this was first brought to my attention. I was about 17 (Sinatra comes to mind) and MW (longtermer at the time) just gave me some long emotional speech, that I�m pretty sure involved screaming and crying, about my lack thereof. I felt bad. And so miscellaneously, during some conversations after that, I would produce a couple sniffles and tears.

She never fell for it. It just pissed her off more that I had to fake emotions to show her something �real�. Which makes sense, but come on� there was effort!!!

And that was the first of many. Well the first of many that I care to remember and share. There were plenty others, but fuck them. Who are they to tell me about how I react to shit?

So... where was I� Ah yes. 26.

Nothing all that crazy happened at 26. Actually, that�s not entirely true. Some internal things were settling. I�d finally relieved a shitload of stress and angst by then. I�d accomplished a lot of things I needed accomplished. I�d cleared my debts. For once in a very long time, I didn�t feel �behind�. Well, I did, and always do. I Always feel way behind where I �should� be, but for the first time, it wasn�t That far behind. A couple milestones and checkpoints were finally on the horizon.

And so I was finally a little more at peace, for the first time since being a teenager, but overall � nothing really Changed.

But then a few months later, a famous author dies. I get drunk for the occasion, come home, wake up T (with whom I�ve had the emotion argument at least 17,322 times) and bawl my eyes out drunkenly for about an hour. I was fucking slobbering mess, wailing incoherently about some dead author. At no point, did I feel the need to get a grip.

Later the next day, I recalled the incident. I knew what it was all about, but I just didn�t know why the fucked reaction. I was sad about leaving NY. Which is acceptable. I was sad about leaving T after 4 years. Right. I was a little scared of setting out to attain things I�ve been working towards my whole life. Check.

But why the sobbing mess?! What the hell has gotten into me?! And why the hell did I ramble about a dead author?! What. the Fuck. is Wrong with me?!

I got a grip of myself over the next couple days, but just had this strange melancholy peeking up around my collar at odd times. I�d tear up miscellaneously. I�d get strange urges to �share things�. I�d actually give a shit about some of the things happening in movies I�d never want to see. It wasn�t constant, but it popped up it really odd times.

And since then, I�ve been trying to balance it all. Trying to tap into this thing - in such a way that I can either control it or at least have some sort of forewarning to prepare for it. I�m a fucking man. I can�t just start sniffling at ridiculous things.

Here, I have an example. That thing I had in Chicago over the summer last year? Man, was I a mess. Do NOT fall for an unstable person when going through a transitional thing.

So... yeah... example. On one of my earlier visits to Chicago to see her� The plan was to hang out at her place and kill a bottle of scotch. I believe we�d already had a couple drinks in us by then. It was about 3am, which means there�s only one place in Chicago to get a bottle.

On the way to the north side, she starts some ridiculous argument about my being with her because I knew she used to be a stripper and that I had some preconceived notion about her and that I was completely full of shit.

I know this argument. There have been SO many instances in the past when I saw women pull this shit. I�d laugh at them and send them home, immediately. I wouldn�t leave them somewhere, as I�m not that type of person, although on one occasion, I called the girl�s friend to pick her up and made her wait outside the car in the cold. Hey, I�ve Never been a fan of bullshit and feel I was fully within my rights. She could have been cordial and at least waited in the car with me, but she chose �nuts�.

I recognized the argument Immediately. I entertained it for a bit, until it got silly and then just let it fizzle. I already knew what the deal was. Let her get out of the car when we get to her place, without a word. Calm. Collect. No need for any reaction. Fuck this bitch and her stupid games.

And so we pull up to her house and� Wait. What the FUCK is THIS?!!? Why am I talking?!? What the fuck am I saying?!?! Why am I tearing up?!?! Oh no. This is Not happening!

And yes. We talked. We went upstairs. Talked some more. Got drunk. Fucked a couple times. Spent the rest of the week together, happily.

But fuck all that. And though I truly enjoyed the time with her, I don�t know where the fuck all that mess came from and I didn�t like it at all. Things didn�t improve much for me. I mean I didn�t break down in front of her anymore, but I had to put a conscious effort into keeping myself balanced.

And this is why I needed to be single again. I can�t get into strange arguments with strangers when I have no idea how I�ll react to things. This is how serial killers happen. Guys in their mid-thirties finally blowing their stack during a long distance commercial and realizing that they should kill everyone who hasn�t said thank you to them in the past week.

And after a year in this cesspool, I think I�ve finally balanced myself. I have emotions now. I�m ok with it. I understand them and know how to keep them at bay when necessary and utilize them otherwise. I get depressed and sad on occasion or angry on others. These have been new to me, but I�m growing to like them.

And now� I�ve taken notice of another thing. I don�t Specifically mind that I haven�t been laid in about 10 months. It doesn�t bother me on any serious level. But at times it�s hard to tell, with certainty, which head is running the show. It�s not causing any serious accidents or anything, but I find myself entertaining women I�d otherwise rather not speak to. I�m not sure I like this. I believe I may need to get laid just to maintain my social standards.