Taking care of No. 1
So I went in for a bit of a mental tune-up with the good doctor a couple of weeks ago. Just, you know, to kick the tires, give the windows a good scrub, change the spinal fluid.
Funny thing is, he gave me another test.
“Want a soda? Here, while I get it, fill this out.”
Sneaky bastard.
(Of course there was a question about my mother.)
(I kid the good doctor.)
I just needed to talk a few things out with someone clinically responsible to listen.
And, of course, the topic came up (it always comes up) about why I’m so recluse to take care of myself. First and foremost.
Honestly, I don’t know when it started. I am not sure how to turn it off.
But I can tell you that I’ve tried to do it this week.
And managed to come off as a selfish prick.
“You’re not being a selfish prick,” a buddy said. “You’re doing things for yourself, when and where you want to do them.”
Which means I’m being a selfish prick bastard.
If I want to ride, I ride.
If I want to sit at the computer and write, I’ve done it.
If I want to sit in the front yard with the girls (my dogs, Trinity and Scully), I do it.
Mostly, what I have wanted is to be alone. And that has proven to be tough.
(Ladies, I know it’s hard to understand, but if your guy says he needs to be alone, he just wants to crawl into his cave and figure things out. It’s not like we’re avoiding you or anything. It just is…a male knee-jerk reaction to stress and strain. And no, we don’t necessarily want to talk about it. Hence, the alone part.)
So it could be said that I have been aloof and cold this week.
Just working things out.
Nothing to see here.
No hidden agendas.
And I feel like a ride now, which means I have to change out a flat, so I am out of here…
Funny thing is, he gave me another test.
“Want a soda? Here, while I get it, fill this out.”
Sneaky bastard.
(Of course there was a question about my mother.)
(I kid the good doctor.)
I just needed to talk a few things out with someone clinically responsible to listen.
And, of course, the topic came up (it always comes up) about why I’m so recluse to take care of myself. First and foremost.
Honestly, I don’t know when it started. I am not sure how to turn it off.
But I can tell you that I’ve tried to do it this week.
And managed to come off as a selfish prick.
“You’re not being a selfish prick,” a buddy said. “You’re doing things for yourself, when and where you want to do them.”
Which means I’m being a selfish prick bastard.
If I want to ride, I ride.
If I want to sit at the computer and write, I’ve done it.
If I want to sit in the front yard with the girls (my dogs, Trinity and Scully), I do it.
Mostly, what I have wanted is to be alone. And that has proven to be tough.
(Ladies, I know it’s hard to understand, but if your guy says he needs to be alone, he just wants to crawl into his cave and figure things out. It’s not like we’re avoiding you or anything. It just is…a male knee-jerk reaction to stress and strain. And no, we don’t necessarily want to talk about it. Hence, the alone part.)
So it could be said that I have been aloof and cold this week.
Just working things out.
Nothing to see here.
No hidden agendas.
And I feel like a ride now, which means I have to change out a flat, so I am out of here…
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