Sunday, 9 August 2015

The Adolescent President




Recently many things have hoved into focus, like the moment I put my spectacles on first thing in the morning. As I approach my 45th birthday with all the anticipation of the knee operation I'm having in two weeks...I've realised that the adolescent part of my psyche is finally having to prepare a handover package to its recently elected but not yet serving, successor.

Recently I began dating a lady. She's clever, funny and sexy and is about my age. She has a child aged 9 and has had a lot of shit in her life from a previous relationship. We have oodles of things in common. She's self published a book about a subject very personal to her. I have done the same. She works in an organisation that I used to work in. She likes going to the cinema. She likes eating out. She owns a cat. I've not known her long but we kind of click and it's refreshing because for once I'm actually being myself and that seems to be enough

My adolescent president has served faithfully for roughly 30 years. He has kept office and through hard work, diligence and above all subterfuge, has run my life with a passion. Problem is he should have been voted out about 15 years ago.

I thought I was obsessed with sex. What I have recently found out (covered to some extent in previous entries on this blog) is that while I have an active imagination, retreating into an isolated world of masturbation and loneliness, I simply indulged my own fantasies in my head and they turned me on. The flip side of this was that I was unable to enjoy sex properly in 'real life' as events would usually disappoint (there are some glorious exceptions to this and if you're reading this...you know who you are).

I couldn't kick back and enjoy life because my adolescent president was holding office way past his mandatory term. I was still stuck in an unhappy cycle of feelings that had never matured into foundations and seeds from which could grow an actual 'life'. Instead I was building perfection in my head, like a teenage girl getting a glistening gusset over the latest boy band, for what I thought my life should have and should be.

From my first love Eleonora to my second Felicia to the Red Jumper Girl through to the Mexican Cunt I always superimposed an unreal state of unattainability to the women I fell head over heels in romantic, lustful love for. A friend of mine once said to me "You fall in love with any woman who gives you the time of day." That wasn't entirely true but she had a point. I dreamed that at the end of the rainbow was the woman of my dreams. With a tight, wet pussy and a magical smile. Clever funny and gentle, not to mention great in bed. Everything a lonely, self analytical guy with a high sex drive could want. Thing is, at the end of the rainbow is simply a familiar place with no surprises.

But I digress....

Finally something has shifted and my sub conscious mind has begun to see things in a more mature and less juvenile manner. I still like sex and have very vivid fantasies that I have been fortunate to act out with a few sexual partners. Now however, I don't go to bed at night determined to have a wank just to prove to the universe that I am still up for it, if only the universe would care to send me a vagina and a pair of tits to play with for a few hours.

I love to drink but I can turn it on and off when I need to. I got shit faced nearly every day for a month in Crete this summer but for once I knew my limits and did "other stuff" like road trips, boat trips and water skiing rather than sinking shots till 5.30am and then staying in bed all the next day to cope with the mother & father of all hangovers.

I also have lost my desire to prove I'm not a pansy, but refusing to back away from volatile or potentially violent situations. Last week I was walking home and five guys were in front of me, clearly very drunk. They were dropping their chicken and chips in the street, giggling, swearing, staggering around and throwing the fresh tomatoes from outside an Italian restaurant into the street. And that was just the women. I was about to cross over the road to avoid having to walk through them when one turned round and smiled. Turned out I knew him and he was pleasant and chatty, apologising for "those stupid cunts" and wishing me well. A year or two ago I would have walked on the same side of the pavement and through or around their group, heart hammering in my chest, just to illustrate that these colours don't run. Now I found a certain peace in simply avoiding the whole thing like a bad smell.

The Adolescent president is now packing up his stuff and his team are talking to the Mid Life president who is waiting to move into the oval office. He likes some of his predecessor's work and admires a few of his policies. Overall however, he will be changing a great deal of things. Not least the decor in the office and he'll be buying a new limo.



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