(no subject)
In my constant and most recent meanderings about town, I've learned two important things. One, if you're not going to back down from a fight, at least punch with your thumb on the outside of your hand or you could break it. And two, love is addictive. The first is pretty much self-explanatory, but the latter deserves an explanation. I've had my ups and downs in relationships, and, at times, thought I knew love. But, as odd as this may sound, it took a 300lb man vomiting into a novelty velvet tophat to give me an idea of what love is. I didnt know the guy, whose name I later found out to be "Dog", but because I looked familiar I was able to crash his open bar birthday party. Now there were plenty of people there, all having a great time drinking, laughing, playing beer pong, and I was with them. However, I found myself somewhat out of sorts. Instead of playing beer pong with the others or drinking myself into a haze or participating in any other college pasttime, I was just watching this large drunken and, by that time, shirtless 300lb gentleman with such envy. Sure he might have been overweight or fumbling with words or vomitting into an assortment of novelty bachelor gifts (of the aforementioned velvet tophat being the bucket of choice), but I couldnt have had more respect for the man (well maybe if he had a shirt on and didnt reak of jack daniels and sweat, but that's besides the point). I wanted to be him. To love and be loved in return is a great thing, or so I've heard, but you dont really understand that until you see it or experience it firsthand. I had only a small taste that night, I licked the candle of the birthday cake that is love, but like a man who buys wholesale, I just wanted more. I know now that love is addictive and, as such, it deserves special care and respect. I can only hope that somewhere down the line, there's a velvet tophat with my name on it...