Getting older is similar to a person trying to wean themselves away from a lengthy relationship with cooked-cocaine, it's not all its cracked up to be. So far I've been lucky to avoid the hair loss thing(I still have my mother's voice in my head, "You know your hair is getting too long when you have to adjust your dread-locked mane to wipe your ass!!"), but there are just so many negatives surrounding increasing your birthday memories. Sure the grey hairs make make me look a lot more distinguished, but the grey hairs on my crotch makes it look like I've been trying to impregnate an ashtray. I guess I've gained the whole "wisdom" thing, but as the years go on I've become an increasingly lazy lay, telling the women that I'm with "If you don't get off after 10 minutes then you are shit out of luck, if I wanted a fucking work-out I would have went to Bally's, played ball or something!" My vision is getting worse, it takes me longer to recover from hang-overs, my reflexes are far from the jedi-esque ones I had in my early 20's, and I hate to sound like a woman but everything that I eat goes straight to my ass. We won't even go into how younger women mistakenly think that an older man has some sort of Yoda-like skills with the tongue, most of them end up saying "Jesus gramps, I could have done better messing with the ass-hats at my community college!!"
But I must admit, there is definitely one benefit to getting older, and that's knowing better than to not get so emotionally invested in relationships. No, its not that I have closed the door when it comes to welcoming love in my life, but when a relationship does sour I've just become really detached, I definitely won't be the one chasing a broad screaming "Wait, lets talk about this!!!". Like a soldier who has spent 2 years in Iraq, killing insurgents, seeing innocent people killed, seeing his brothers gunned down, and when he comes back home and parties at a club with his friends the same night a man is gunned down in his presence, he is the only one that not only doesn't flinch but isn't shocked like everyone else. I'm nowhere near as brave as that soldier, but I have so many scars, bruises, and an emotional bullet still lodged in my ribcage that I still feel when I do like someone, I've stopped flinching when a chick that I care about pulls out that break-up handgun like she's a menstruating Charles Bronson or some shit.
I don't know, I think the my turbulent relationship has a lot to do with Teenage Love. No, not the Slick Rick song that invokes memories of sweet young love, Bomber Jackets, the image of Big Daddy Kane in the video getting punked by Slick Rick on the train, and me clumsily fucking the shit out a girl in my math glass named Rosie as I watched her Door-knocker ear-rings almost give her a concussion due to my pubescent thrusting. I'm talking about the mass amounts of stupid shit that I've done during my teenage years in the name of love, actions that have pretty much been the foundation on this abandoned house that I call my relationship history. Here are a couple of examples that I'm none to proud of..
The reason why I'm still banned from this pool:(13 years old) I think it was the summer of 86, and me and some of my Norfolk friends had always went to this one pool since we were toddlers. Before I was as dangerous as someone pointing a squirt gun at you, but now that I was 13 and felt that the thing swinging from my legs which was only used for urinating for 99% of my life was now a loaded weapon, got forbid any woman who found herself on the business end of my pubic wrath. Anyway, there was this lifeguard named Tamika who had to be like 3 years my senior, a chick with a body like Pam Grier, lips so plump and life-saving that thinking about them now brings deployed airbags to mind, and a chick so ghetto that every time I saw her walk Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five's "The message" played in my head. She wasn't ghetto in a "she is from an ecomonically ravished area" way, but in a "I heard she once stabbed a chick, and fist fights her fair share of grown men" way, which got me hotter than fish-grease. Anyway, after years of boring her with offers of seeing my penis, she finally seemed to be coming around like climaxing with a fat chick, laughing at my jokes, and kissing me on the cheek every time that she saw me.(which was the best masturbatory material by the way) All was good in the world until this guy who should have stayed down him mother's leg named Ray came into the picture, some dude who thought his shit didn't stink because he was from Queens.
Immediately he started wooing Tamika, making her laugh like I did, her spending all of her free time with this jackass, and those kisses on the cheeks mysteriously stopped. I was crushed, but he took her fair and square, I didn't feel the need to act out until he started with the jokes. So one day, out of nowhere, not only did he verbally attack me and my friends equating us to hicks like we were "The Beverly Hillbilly's" and shit, he called us "ducks"(I guess NY terminology at the time meaning "nerd"), and openly bragged about stealing Tamika away from me. That was it, I waded over to him in the pool and began to choke the life out of him in front of about 50 screaming children. As he gasped for air, clutching my arms, looking at me in a very inquisitive look that prompted me to say "You know why I'm doing this motherfucker!!", I dunked him under the water, the only thing visible was the palmade waves in his hair. I blacked out, I just remember my friends pulling me off of him as he coughed up water in the arms of Tamika. Yeah, I'm sure that my act of aggression progressed his agenda of intimately knowing Tamika's small intestines with his cock, it wouldn't be the last time something like that happened.
The Drive-Thru incident:(16 years old) Long story short, this girl that I was dating cheated on me with this young man that worked at the golden arches. In hindsight I know that it was her fault, the guy that she decided to let make more room inside her that I was unable to was innocent, if I was mad at anyone it should have been her, right?? Wrong, and all my teenage angst was pointed at this dude name Ronald, and yes I found it ironic that that was his name and he worked at McDonald's. So, I knew he worked drive-thru so when I pulled up and he asked, "Yes sir, can I take your order?", I replied "Yes, Umm. Can I get some large fries, a big mack, and your motherfucking ass on a platter you pussy!!!" He paused and said, "Bobby?? Stop fucking around and pull up!", I guess he thought that I was one of his friends or something. When I pulled up I didn't say anything, Ronald looked pretty bewildered too, but we both acted like I didn't just call him a pussy and he reached his hand out to collect my payment. Then, in a totally unplanned act of aggression, I grabbed his hand and pulled his ass through the window and started punching him. I guess his headset was connected to the register, because as I had 65% of his body out of the window I heard a big crash, along with his screaming co-workers. Poor guy, the feminine screams of terror that he let out while I hit him with as many punches a guy could throw from the inside of a car, still keeps me up some nights.(Ok, keeps me up with laughter.) I remember pushing him half way back into the window and driving off, only to see him fall out of the window anyway when I looked back in my rear-view mirror. How I wasn't arrested is beyond me.