“Hang my head, drown my fear; ’til you all just disappear…”

 

“I won a bet with myself.”

She looks up at me, more than just physically, as she says it with a smile.

I pause for the briefest moment – from drinking enough Jim Beam Devil’s Cut to kill a buffalo and smoking enough Marlboro No. 27’s to give me cancer by Halloween – to raise an eyebrow.

My wordless method of asking her what she means.

She continues:

“I bet myself that you would be made the leader of the group.

Especially when they split us all up by gender.”

 

I smirk™.

 

See, she bought us tickets to one of those “murder mystery dinners”.

And, when the time came to solve the crime, they separated us.

Even though this 20–something red–head had made me a birthday cake and given me more blow–jobs than a sane man could handle:

I was still surprised by her faith in me.

 

 

Truth be told:

I’ve been hiding a long time.

Having lost a fiancé, best friend, career, mother and beloved grandmother and squandered a small fortune on whiskey and cigarettes in an extended suicide attempt over the past few years:

I just wanted to be left alone.

 

 

I went on this trip to simply lose myself.

Ride the wave.

Be a nameless member of a group.

Simply to ease myself into being social again.

 

 

I’m overweight.

Not the best looking guy present.

Easily the worst dressed, as all the men present are in shirts and ties and [due to miscommunication] I’m not.

Yet, I’m made the spokesman/chairman/leader of the group.

As they say:

Man plans; God laughs.

 

Regardless, I take the role.

For whatever reason:

It always seems to fall to me.

Whether I want it or not.

I’ve worn crowns enough to know:

I never rest easy wearing them.

 

Now that I think on it:

Maybe that’s why I frequently end up with them.

 

 

Ω

 

 

 

 

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26 Responses to ““Hang my head, drown my fear; ’til you all just disappear…””

  1. The Lucky Lothario Says:

    You alright ace?

  2. Recent story…or one in the past?

  3. The man who considers himself least deserving or desiring of the crown is often well suited for the job.

  4. Great taste in tunes, also in alcohol… wish I had found your blog sooner.
    Devil’s Cut FTW.

  5. Here’s the thing.

    Sometimes a guy needs to go inside himself, to “get back to himself”. Yet when we’re in public, we are often called to give of ourselves, to step out of our comfort zones. And we don’t like it, particularly when we know that inside and not outside is where we need to be.

    When introverts like Ace love, they love deeply. With their whole entire hearts. They hold back nothing. The lover of an introverted, thoughtful man sees everything he is and has: Love, lust, fucking, exhilaration, rage, fear, pain, despair. He can make love. He can fuck. He can do both, or neither.

    And when he hates, he hates deeply.

    That’s why he goes inside.

  6. What Sean and Deti said. Quality post. It gets poetic at the end.

  7. I never rest easy wearing them.

    I read this and thought, that’s exactly why you end up with the crown . . . only then to read your last lines. I am glad you see this, because it’s important.

    I’m sorry for your losses, Ace.

  8. I found some cherry mash whiskey made by Jeremiah Weed.

    Pretty tasty stuff. It’s good to take the edge off the crown of thorns.

  9. I’m usually a lurker on ‘sphere pages. But I have to say. Your brand of quiet melancholy is something I recognized right away. The words of someone who stared into the abyss. Thanks man.

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