“Better lock it in your pocket, takin’ this one to the grave…”

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On the heels of ► my last post ◄, circumstances arose which gave me a serious look into female, intra-sex social behavior.

 

Specifically:

 

Friendships

 

 

 

Being a rather gregarious fellow in my daily life, I’ve been friends and acquaintances with quite a number of men and women throughout the course of my life.

 

I’ve never payed close attention to the female side of things.

 

Since my interests in them were erotic rather than fraternal.

 

Thus, it never became a pertinent concern.

 

However, recent events have – unavoidably – brought female friendships to my necessarily undivided attention.

 

 

 

I confess the rapid series of events which granted me such a stark look may be insufficient to write extensively on the matter.

 

Yet, I’ll flatter myself saying I tend to do reasonably well drawing conclusions with little information.

 

The conclusion, in this case is:

 

Akin to the preponderance of things in a woman’s life, friendships are governed by pragmatism.

 

 

 

This useful – but sometimes flawed – outlook causes female, intra-sex friendships to be ephemeral, in the majority of cases.

 

They are formed – and dissolved – as necessary.

 

In short:

 

They have clearly labeled expiration dates.

 

Regardless of whether or not women choose to read them.

 

This is because, consciously or unconsciously, women realize two things:

 

1} Men fill far more (numerically speaking) needs than women do.

 

2} What women provide to other women (an ear to bend, emotional support, cheerleading, et al) is significantly easier to replace than men’s contributions to their lives.

 

 

 

This is not to say female, intra-sex friendships are valueless, by any means.

 

But, all things considered, to the passing window-shopper on the open social market:

 

The bargain-bin certainly appears to be full of them.

 

 

 

 

 

5♦

“…frown upon her face, tryin’ to be sincere…’

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“Female empowerment” is everywhere, frankly.

 

On televisions.

 

In magazines.

 

In films.

 

Even in schools.

 

The cheerleading routine is omnipresent and ceaseless.

 

 

 

Yet, as time and tide wear on, “those with eyes to see and ears to hear” notice flaws in the performance.

 

The chant has become a drone.

 

The voices have gone hoarse.

 

The once impassioned eyes have either turned to glassy zealousness or dulled to stony dejection. 

 

Why is that?

 

Why, despite the never-ending praise and encouragement heaped upon females by females, are they more depressed than ever?

 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge said it best:

 

“Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.”

 

 

 

Realize that – on the whole – intra-sex [female to female] praise is akin to drinking seawater.

 

It is devoid of nourishment.

 

And, worse still, it is an enervating force.

 

 

 

Recall, ► women communicate via subtext ◄.

 

Overt communication is rarely to be trusted.

 

Praise is absolutely no exception to that rule.

 

 

 

Also, recall that women will often praise even the most mundane accomplishment as a tour de force (this is a feature, not a bug – but that’s for another day).

 

So, consciously or unconsciously, they understand that such praise is essentially meaningless.

 

If even banality is “amazing”, how does anything have worth?

 

Answer:

 

It doesn’t; not a whit of it.

 

Which is exactly why they are in ► the lamentable position they currently occupy ◄.

 

 

 

 

 

4♦

“But ’til I get myself straight, I guess I’ll just have to wait…”

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During my time here in this corner of the web of ours, I’ve seen many men make many promises to their readers.

 

While the exact promises have varied, the preponderance of them have revolved around two things:

 

Material success and women.

 

 

 

This is not shocking in the least.

 

After all, those two things have been the primary concerns for men throughout human history.

 

Marketing toward those ends is certainly wise, regardless of the morality of the motivation behind it.

 

So I shan’t criticize, if for no other reasons than wisdom, itself, is to be respected; I myself have made certain promises (albeit slightly different than most) regarding women.

 

However, a thought has recently occurred to me that I’ve yet to see anyone explicitly state.

 

 

 

Perhaps this thought has never (at least in the areas I survey) been clearly stated because such an act is unnecessary.

 

But – whether it’s my age or my experience or some combination thereof – I consider very little to be obvious, anymore.

 

Thus, I’ll share it.

 

Like cars, private planes, boats, tailored suits, and other fine goods dangled before the eyes of so many men—

 

Women are a luxury.

 

 

 

Now, this is not to say women can only be afforded by men of serious financial means.

 

Certainly, such a condition helps and – dare I say – unlocks some doors.

 

But it is by no means a requirement for acquiring worthwhile female companionship.

 

Why, then, do I classify women as a luxury?

 

Because women can only be attained by abundance.

 

 

 

Abundance needn’t be material.

 

After all, it’s a well-known trope that deadbeats and ne’er-do-wells often have women latched firmly to their sides.

 

However, those men have an abundance of something.

 

While those particular somethings may vary, the abundance is certainly real – and necessary – to the women they attract.

 

Even women not attracted to those two types of men still require abundance. 

 

An abundance of understanding.

 

An abundance of emotional fortitude.

 

An abundance of patience (ask any man in a long-term relationship).

 

 

 

“Plenty of people have talked about ‘abundance mindset’ so you’re wrong.

 

It’s been stated.”

 

That’s why I qualified my statement with the word “explicitly”.

 

See, abundance mindset has been mentioned, no doubt.

 

Yet, pointing out women are a luxury (along with clarifying what abundance means, at its core) really hasn’t been done.

 

Which is important to do for a few reasons:

 

1} Luxuries aren’t necessities. One can live without the former.

 

2} Luxuries – depending on their scarcity and value – often require much time and effort to attain; rarely do they fall into one’s lap.

 

3} Once attained, luxuries are often costly to maintain. They may improve one’s quality of life immeasurably – thus justifying their costs – but it doesn’t change the fact they’re expensive.

   

 

 

Needless to say, this is why I’m always advocating a man look after himself and his needs first.

 

Because living beyond one’s means is a dangerous course.

 

 

 

 

 

3♦

“Fly to your tomorrow…”

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[A reworked and expanded version of this post will appear as a new chapter in the revised edition of ► The Holistic Guide to Suicide ◄]

 

 

My posts have been consistently last minute, I freely admit.

 

(Though I’m proud to say there’s been a post for every week since I’ve begun this year’s project, as promised.)

 

This is not without good reason.

 

I’m trying to move, once more.

 

 

 

See, I moved from Philadelphia a few years ago to Oklahoma.

 

Now I’m moving within the state (for the second time).

 

I’ve become a bit of an itinerant, it appears.

 

Oddly enough, the old me – the one prior to disintegrating into cigarette ashes afloat upon a lake of whiskey – never moved. 

 

Traveled, sure.

 

But never really moved… more than 10 miles from where I was born, to be clear.

 

I felt too tied to friends.

 

Too obligated to family. 

 

Too beholden to jobs.

 

 

 

My mother and grandmother often dissuaded me from relocating.

 

My father didn’t take enough interest in me to counter them.

 

It was only after those two powerful, female influences in my life died – and my grief-stricken dad fled the state in the interim of their respective deaths – did the idea finally cross my mind in any meaningful sense.

 

Upon voicing the prospect to a close friend, he replied:

 

“Go.

 

No one needs you here.”

 

Hearing that made me sympathize with gunshot victims.

 

The words rang in my ears; their impact almost knocked me to the floor.

 

 

 

It took me a bit to recover, but I saw the Truth of his statement.

 

My friends were grown men and women with lives (and sometimes children) of their own.

 

My family was dead or had abandoned me.

 

My fiancé had betrayed me and gone.

 

My job had fired me.

 

I was completely unnecessary. 

 

Without melodrama, I can say honestly:

 

I was a man without a people, a family and – in an almost literal fashion – without a country.

 

 

 

Although I saw the Truth in his words, I would misunderstand that particular Truth.

 

I interpreted the words as a rejection.

 

An abjuration of the ghost I’d become.

 

A banishing of the oft-summoned “Jersey Devil” (the nicknamed I’d acquired years prior).

 

Thus, I crawled into a row home in a Philadelphia ghetto to complete the suicide I’d begun.

 

However, I’d be fortunate enough to reinterpret that enervating statement a year or so later.

 

 

 

While talking with folks online (via my writing on this blog and another), I’d discover I still had things to offer the world.

 

That what my friend had meant (he’d later confirm this) was that the person that needed me most was myself.

 

That my time in the area was over but not the world.

 

That there were other rivers in need of fording; roads to travel; friends to meet; and enemies to harry.

 

Though I’d filled my purpose there, my purpose itself was still extant.

 

 

 

Thus I say to you:

 

If it seems to you that exstence is purposeless, that people are distant and work is little more than a chore for a paycheck:

 

Accept that the fields have gone barren.

 

Then plant new seeds elsewhere.

 

In short:

 

Don’t give up on life; give up on the geography.

 

 

 

So, if the sad conditions I mentioned apply to you, dear reader:

 

Shake the dust from your wings.

 

Stretch them well.

 

And fly onward.

 

With new perspectives will come new meaning.

 

 

 

 

 

2♦