Dreamer

Dreamer

Several persons expressed disgust with me for "boasting" (their word, not mine) that I have known 24 women. They said I am a male whore, a pimp, a womanizer, and many other delectable and delicious names unfit to be repeated in a public setting. My "critics" got me all wrong. 

I was a shy, insecure, diffident, bashful young man. At the age of 18, I fell in love, with a "wrong" girl, named 67. She thought I was too childish and too untalented for her. I was devastated. I went home and cried like a child. By chance, later, I got acquainted in college with a former classmate (Laura) of hers. I didn't know they were classmates until after Laura became my girlfriend. I didn't love Laura at first. She romanticized the relationship (she told me) and so did I. I didn't love her until the third year of the relationship. I should not have loved her at all, but I was idealistic and I was a dreamer. I was stupid, too. Laura, like 67, thought I was not good enough for her and her parents. She dumped me ruthlessly after finding a guy in post-graduate school. He in turn ruthlessly dumped her. Poetic justice, I said to myself after the news reached me. 

Then I got a scholarship and went overseas. I met another girl. She chased me until I foolishly surrendered. She was definitely a wrong girl, in all meanings of the word. I was stupid and naive. She and I finally went separate ways. I lost quite a bunch of money for trusting her. I told you, I was stupid. 

So what did you expect me to do? I read philosophy to calm myself. And I reached out to women of all ages and backgrounds, just to give myself an education. As I said before, I have known 24 women now. So far, only one definitely loved me although she cursed and swore at me everyday until she died of a heart attack. How did I know she loved me? Because she refused to take any money from me, after listening to the story of my life. She said, "the money you have is the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. I won't touch it. I will not touch it. I don't feel right if I touch it. Keep it, but don't you ever spend it on any fucking bitch. If I find out you did, I shall kill you." True Love is not taking. True Love is giving. It is giving of oneself, one's money, one's time, one's energy, one's heart. The woman, named Harriette, did love me with all her heart. She tried to toughen me up. She said I was a fool with women. She wanted to make sure I would become wiser after she died. I am not sure I have become wiser, but definitely I am no longer starry-eyed. 

I look young for my age, good-looking, fit, witty, and knowledgeable (from books, that is). Plus, I am a "poet". Of course, women have found me attractive (those who do not, must have sand in their eyes and rocks in their brains). Some are bitches, however, like the midgets. But JAW, I think, did love me, but she didn't understand me.  Not at all. She thought she did, but she does not, not that I am difficult to understand. She just doesn't have a mind and a heart to know who I am and where I come from. She had too much self-projection when trying to understand me. And when she doesn't get her way, she gets ugly and sarcastic. 

I don't think I am a womanizer. I don't go out of my way to seduce women. I am not the "find them, fuck them, and forget them" type. I am lousy in bed. I don't even like sex. I am a sensitive, shy, old man. That's who I am. But I like women, despite all past heartaches. Women have always been my best friends and worst enemies. 

I only have four male friends who go by Omar, Danny, Gene, and Bob. 

I have little money left, but I am not starving. I don't measure myself by the size of my bank account. That was why I threw 1.2 million dollars away. I was crazy, yes. I was stupid, yes. But that was me. I have lived on an edge. VAW (Geeze) tried to make me feel bad about myself by saying bad, hurtful things to me. I was glad she did. She gave me the strength to stay away from her. 

I live comfortably, not in splendor or luxury. I have food on the table. And I sleep in a condo (inherited from Harriette), not under a bridge.

But I am a writer of fiction. Maybe all what you have just read is just literary bullshit and fantasy. I have a rich imagination. You be the judge. I have to go make some money. I cannot just lie here all day writing about my life. See you. 

Wissai