The End of Months

My penchant for the monthly dating is over. It started from an inspiration (which I’d have to credit Charlize Theron for that matter ), proceeded to give me many great memories and it ended on a realization. It sparked and moulded the man you have come to know as, Butterfly.

I’ve been terribly exhausted of late, which is a fair excuse on why I haven’t been religiously entertainin you with new posts. I’m drained, mentally, physically and if I can shamelessly add, possibly emotionally. I’d spare you the intricate delectables, but my life is in need of immediate re-structuring. Badly.

I’ve come to acknowledge that with my lifestyle, comes the aftermath of retribution and the scorn of reputation. I’m more infamous than I had imagined and my reputation is going to smell almost as bad as a Puerto Rican prostitute with yeast infection.

The irony of it is that people outside this lifestyle want in and I want out. Oh, it’s been a ride, you can trust me on that when I tell you that what you’ve read here is only a portion of the un-imaginable (and very much censored version) that has happened to me.

I’ve had my share. Alcohol? Had tons of it. One day you can milk my liver and you’d probably have enough to start a liquor store. Hook ups? I’ve lost the figure somewhere after it outstripped my age. Radomn pick ups, splurged on by older women, re-bound guy, a jealous girlfriend’s tool for revenge. Ohh.. I’ve had ‘em all.

But there isn’t memory in them that I would like to keep.

The ‘Miss Month’s’

Rules: For one month I’d date one person exclusively. This is the only instance where monogamy to me isn’t a vulgar word. And for one month, I’d try to find the reason to fall in love. We’d be everything a couple is, only that it ends in a month.

Why a month? As they say, “it’s long enough to have an impact and short enough to stay out of trouble”.

Reason: Blame it on my incapability to find love normally like all the regular Joes’. Blame it on my idealism of an altered chemistry, of falling in love beautifully and unconventionally.
It’s a sorry excuse to find love you’d say. Or an excuse to just get laid. But I can assure you it isn’t. I’d get laid more if I’m didn’t have a Miss Month.

Why would people even play this shit with me? More than you can imagine. Cos’ having me for a month is the best way to beat me in my own game. I’m actually pretty sweet if you know me. We all win. Well, that’s if WE both fall in love.

It’s the only point in time I have stability. The only time I believe effort isn’t just about unhooking their bra. And that commitment isn’t just about the promise of bring her to climax five times a night.

And WHY am I leaving all this behind?

Cos’ I’ve found a reason to stop.

Don’t you worry, my inactivity isn’t a precursor for the demise of this blog. I still have tons of good read for you on a more regular interval.