“It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy and, God, I know I’m one.”

J♥

 

 

 

Reader Benm writes:

 

“Glad to see you’re back, always get good insights from your posts. And truths I should stop avoiding if I’m honest.”

 

Thanks, Ben.

 

In reply, I admitted I make the same mistake (avoiding certain truths).

 

So here’s some elucidation to that confession.

 

 

 

I couldn’t tell you where or when I first heard the phrase.

 

I’m sure it’s just one of those maxims that’s made the rounds.

 

Gets bandied about.

 

Touted with some verve.

 

Then conveniently forgotten.

 

I’m no exception.

 

 

 

What maxim is that, the attentive reader asks?

 

“How you find them is how you lose them.”

 

Whew, lads, is that the truth that I’ve denied more than once.

 

No doubt, I’m in good company.

 

Understand, it’s only human for a man to think he’s special.

 

To believe he’s found someone that’s willing to break the rules; forgo convention; take risks, all to be with him.

 

In fact, not only is it human – it’s a tremendous ego boost.

 

However, that’s yet to be the case.

 

At least, in my personal experience.

 

 

 

Thus far – sans exception – any gal that’s done such a thing for me has done such a thing to me.

 

It’s a bag of broken glass, into which I’ve reached more than once, hoping to find the diamond at the bottom.

 

Only to discover – thus far – there’s none to be had.

 

See, a man gets so wrapped up in thinking he’s triumphed over the competition – consciously or unconsciously – in the mating game of musical chairs, that he slows to take in the beauty of the song.

 

Realizing, too late, there’s a few more bars of music to go.

 

And the other contestants are still going at full speed.

 

 

 

Why do folks – men and women, alike – do this to each other?

 

I couldn’t really say.

 

Maybe it’s the need for security.

 

They’ve got to know they’ve always got someone available to them.

 

Maybe it’s the need for validation.

 

They’ve got to know they’ve always got someone desiring them.

 

Maybe it’s simply a thrill.

 

I’m sure the reasons for the game are as varied as the personalities of those that play it.

 

 

 

What I can tell you is this:

 

When it happens to you, the betrayal isn’t the greatest agony.

 

It’s confirmation that you aren’t remotely special.

 

That it’s a game you shouldn’t have played.

 

That you didn’t stop a crime—

 

You helped commit one.

 

J♥

4 Responses to ““It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy and, God, I know I’m one.””

  1. A.B Abundo Says:

    Thank you for the post

    I hope you got my comment about the customised table top games.

    Kind regards,

    Aaron.

  2. A♠,

    Nothing kills the ego like the notion that we were just another shirt on the rack. Tried on and casually discarded, left for some store clerk to hang back up properly.

    Like Garth Brooks famously sang:
    ‘For a moment, wasn’t I a King’

    No, we should never have played the game. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. But as the passing of time proves all too often now, our opposites didn’t either. We weren’t special but in the end neither were they. We gave them a chance to prove otherwise, that’s all. We weren’t the only ones auditioning.

    The game is forever. The rules are forever. But the game is a casino today, and the referees would put the WWE to shame.

    One day Las Vegas will return to dust and Gila Monsters.

    All the best,
    JD

  3. Damn good post and JD’s commentary is the perfect cherry on top.

    No, not a Sunday. Some fruity drink that the girl who’d make you feel special’d order.

    Wald

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