A long time ago, and for a 23 year old that is somewhere in late junior or early high school, I came to the conclusion that for the rest of my life I would be alone. And I know what you are all thinking. ‘Wow, that’s really sad.’ Maybe it was. I don’t really remember how I felt about it at the time of discovery. But it grows on you. Let me tell you how. Once you accept the fact that you are alone it is really easy to get used to it. It’s like moving to a new city. At first you don’t know what is going on or where to go but as time rolls on you start learning the twists and turns and it ultimately becomes home. So, once I made the realization and once I became comfortable with it the next step for me was to plan for the future. And you ask ‘how does one plan for such a grim future?’ Well, my first step was to get a cat. That’s right I am that crazy cat man that lives alone in a dilapidated house and yells at you when you step on the lawn. Next, you learn how to skillfully avoid people. It makes it a lot easier when one comes to see how stupid most of humanity is. I almost had my whole life planned out. From then to old age was pretty much planned out. The only thing I had missing was death. For example, who would bury me or who would get my worldly possessions and most importantly who would feed my many, many cats. Though I hate to impose for now I think my best bet is going to be my nieces and nephews. Which means an extra five bucks in their birthday cards for the next sixty or so years. I think I can swing that.

As with any good plan it has to be able to change at the drop of a hat. Life hates it when you forget that you are her bitch and she may smack you around at her leisure. So as a subtle reminder this unseen leather clad mistress throws you a huge ass monkey wrench right between the eyes. So, what I am saying is that when I get close to being perfectly and totally happy in my solitude someone will inevitably come along. And for that brief flash in time everything I built my life on starts to fall. Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe I won’t be alone after all. Maybe poets don’t lie and the happy endings are true. But as quickly as they appear they are equally as quick to fall back into the shadows again. And time after time I am standing there alone again like the fool. Confused and slack jawed. I fall for it every damn time. And I start to pick up the shards of my decimated plan and with crazy glue and electrical tape I try to piece it back together. Afterwards I say to myself. ‘Ok. You made a mistake. Learn from it and it won’t happen again.’ But each meeting is more tricky and undetectable than the last. So it easily slips under my radar. Which really pisses me off. Life is one crafty bitch. I am afraid she is always one step ahead of me. But hopefully she either runs out of ideas or she just tires of tormenting me and takes a nap before I die.