The Asshole

The Asshole. I branded myself this years ago and no one knew why. I was such a sweet kid back then. Filled with hopes and dreams, I grabbed life by the horns and got whatever I could out of it. If only I had known that all I was taking were the hopes and dreams of others, trying to mend my broken heart and shattered soul.

I always thought that the problem was that I couldn’t forget my love but the reality of it all was that all I remembered was how to love. I chased unsuccessfully for years the mirage in my mind; her and I with our two kids, the dog and the white picket fence. To ensure I never lost it, I continued to fuck whoever would have me. At first they were just women looking for only the physical but as that well dried up, I had to work a little harder, be a little sweeter.

Another year of breaking hearts finally came to a close when I found a woman that I could truly love. We connected on every level and it was bliss. For once I was happy. Then somewhere down the line we fell into a routine and I fell into the only thing I knew, being an asshole.

We were weeks from getting married when I told her I didn’t want to anymore. Marriage scared me, made me think it was the end of my days and I was only twenty two at the time. I thought I had a lot more life ahead of me. So I broke it off, broke her heart, broke her soul. I was the Asshole again.

It was back to fucking women over and over again. They were like all the easy ones I started with so I didn’t have to worry about breaking hearts and that made it a little easier on my conscience. Then my love returned. We talked about good days, but before I could ask her about our future my only means of communication died on me and I was left with months of silence, months of warming my bed with another woman or another drink.

Finally I arrived in Louisiana and was trying to get my life back on track, but decided it wasn’t the right time. Using my usual self-loathing and asshole nature I was able land what I needed but found that the bottle was so much easier than dealing with stupid women. I had no patience for them and decided I was better off helping those around me either fuck their way to the end of days or find their true love since I was qualified for both.

Winter came though and alcohol was not enough for me to stay warm and I sought shelter elsewhere. Meeting women with my charming self I was irresistible, and they ate it up. I eventually showed them that I was the Asshole I told them I was, the one they thought they could change. I never let them in, never gave them a chance.

So now here I sit. I have a few women that I care about back home, and I am not sure why. Yet, I also have a few women around that see me as the Prince Charming, they haven’t found out yet but they will soon enough, once I get what I need. I don’t want to hurt the ones I care about, they are special to me and I want them to know that, but I know we will find ourselves in one big stinking mess soon enough and that sucks. At first, it was this, knowing how everything was going to end, that made me realize that I am an Asshole, but then I looked a little more closely at myself. Yeah, I’m a dick for letting these women who care for me and that I care for get hurt, I stand behind that, but it is not what makes me an Asshole. No, I am an Asshole because I know all this, have the power to change, yet her I sit, drinking my beer and letting it all play out.

Catcher in the Swamp

Once you have come to terms with who you are and how your life will turn out, it is pretty easy to follow it without issue. What I have learned though is that even though you may not care for the woman that you kick out of your bed in the morning, you can still care for other people. Sadly it is not for any woman, but for your fellow man that you find is at the crossroads you once were at. What makes you care for them is not that fact that soon you will have a competent wingman, but that you don’t want them to follow you down the path that you are travelling.

You swallowed your chance years ago and have been chasing it with beer and whiskey ever since. You won’t let your fellow man fall into the same pit of despair as yourself, so you do everything you can to keep them on the right track. The only way you know how to do this though is to make yourself a bigger asshole and dig your hole a little deeper. There is no getting out of it, so you make it your home. Friends may come and visit, but you never let them stay.

The job is tiring, trying to keep everyone else on the straight and narrow. Your friends think that they can live both lifestyles, being a self-indulgent asshole and boyfriend material but you know that it never works out. They may finally come to their senses and live the honorable life that you deep down inside you regret you are not living, but if they don’t you just sigh and help each other find someone to keep you company for that cold evening.

That isn’t the toughest part though; it is when you come across the particular breed of woman who will either ditch your hopeless romantic friend for your bad-boy antics or try to make your friend jealous by flirting with you. That is the definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place because while you try to do your best and look out for your buddy, you just want to fuck another chick. I know, I know bros before hoes but pussy is such an easy trap to fall in to.

So listen up guys, you have to choose a side. Either you spend the rest of your life looking for love or you go grab yourself a shovel and come join me. I will do everything that I can to keep you from going down the path of the latter but we all have free will, and you have to make some choices. As for you ladies, well, it is nice to meet you. If you aren’t playing some game I would love to get to know you on a more horizontal level.

The Infantryman's Creed

I am the Infantry.
I am my country's strength in war,
her deterrent in peace.
I am the heart of the fight-
wherever, whenever.
I carry America's faith and honor
against her enemies.
I am the Queen of Battle.

I am what my country expects me to be-
the best trained soldier in the world.
In the race for victory,
I am swift, determined, and courageous,
armed with a fierce will to win.

Never will I fail my country's trust.
Always I fight on-
through the foe,
to the objective,
to triumph over all.
If necessary, I fight to my death.

By my steadfast courage,
I have won 200 years of freedom.
I yield not-
to weakness,
to hunger,
to cowardice,
to fatigue,
to superior odds,
for I am mentally tough,physically strong,
and morally straight.

I forsake not-
my country,
my mission,
my comrades,
my sacred duty.

I am relentless.
I am always there,
now and forever.

I AM THE INFANTRY!
FOLLOW ME!

Behind Blue Eyes

It’s pretty evident that I am an asshole. I have a tendency to screw over women. Women that love me, care for me and want nothing else but to be with me. It’s not that I have never loved them, it’s just that it is hard for me to figure out where I belong.

I find myself getting caught up in the moment with dreams of a better life, an honorable life, but I'm not there. I keep telling myself that I am on my way, so close to being a writer, a soldier, yet here I sit, beer in my hand, and some music on my iTunes. All alone in this empty house, this empty town.

I know I want to be happy. Spend my days with the woman I love. Wake up in her arms with nothing to do that day but write and love her. Maybe even go out for some ice cream and head down to the bar for some karaoke, but right now that cannot be.

I still have two years left in the Army and while many would agree that a marriage can work in the military, I don’t want to run the risk of hating the love of my life because of some fuck up or worse, one of my fuck ups. I also have soldiers to care for and while I may not know them yet, I still care for them deeply. They are my responsibility, representing my worth as a leader and I have to put them before all else, even my life.

To most that would sound like a stretch but I am not sitting behind a desk anymore. My job doesn’t revolve around calling up the local news and arranging interviews. It is about closing with the enemy to kill him. The shit is real and I need to take this job a lot seriously than I have before. My life depends on it. Their lives depend on it.

It is a lot of pressure for one man and I doubt that I am ready, but I have to be. No matter what, life moves forward and it doesn’t care if you are ready or not, you just have to do your best with what you got.

I understand that I probably will never get another chance at love, but I have hope that when everything is done and the dust settles, someone up above will look down at me and say, “Alright, this is your last shot. Don’t screw it up.”

It Doesn't Matter What You Do

When all you have is your past to remember, it is hard to comprehend the idea of other people's lives moving forward. You sit down at your computer and let a slide show of your closest friends play across the screen, drink from your tall glass of whiskey and get excited about going home and getting back on track with where you left off the last time you were home.

So long ago.

Then as the slide show finishes and you kill the rest of the whiskey, you decide to catch up with a good friend from back home. Sure, you don't have a lot of friends but absence creates them as time goes on. Most of them just want to have an excuse to be crazy and have a wild time. Others are looking to recapture that same past you yearn for and yet, every one misses it all.

The crazy moments are constant, the drinks never seem to end and the pussy is always wet, and there you sit. You're not hungover because you stay drunk during your entire visit, you just feel like shit though. Sitting there with another tall whiskey you try to figure out how you got here, a tourist in your hometown. How did a life that was planned so well do a complete one-eighty and fuck you in the ass?

Before you knew you were leaving this town, you knew how the next five years would be. Then your stupid ass wanted to change it up, live life, see the world and be apart of something big. And that is all you are left with.

Now, whenever someone mentions your high school sweetheart you don't say "Damn, I should see how she is doing," instead you wonder what she has been up to and let her memory fade to the back of your mind. It's the same thing with any other woman you loved after her. They are all a memory, either a good one, a bad one, a kinky one it doesn't matter what kind of memory it is, they all leave you feeling the same way, lonesome.

You remember the ones you were sure would have worked out for the best, the ones that you thought would still be there when you finally returned home to settle down. Instead, they have faded away. Moved on for better things you are sure and you feel good knowing that they are happy because you know that you would have been an asshole. Sure there are still a few good women out there that would love to spend the rest of their lives with you, but you don't want them because you don't want to add another heartbreak to the trophy case.

So you finish another drink, decide that it is time to lay down and pray for three things; a woman to pass the time with, that you are drunk when you awake and that your days are almost over.