Equilibrium. It's painful.
You fancy a girl. You think she's all that and more. So you ask her out, you sms her, you call her, send her an aeroplane that spells out her name in the sky... but the only response you get in return is - 'maybe next time'. Which is a real damper on your spirit and can turn you a shade bitter in no time. But it is your job to put a limb on the line - you're the guy, remember? If you're not sure you can take 'bugger off ass-wipe' for an answer, be polite and ask your mother if it's too late for an arranged marriage. Either that, or save up for a Laotian bride that will come with the mail.
It's hard, but the next time you bump into her steely eyes, smile and say hi. Then walk away and keep repeating in your head, 'all i am is a nice guy'. This is me. That's what i try telling myself. It works and sometimes it doesn't. If a conversation does present itself, equilibrium is smiling and making it as jovial as possible, because all you're thinking about is how comfortable it will make her feel. That's it. You're not getting her to buy any of your stock. But at least you get a good sleep knowing she doesn't think you're a freak.
Equilibrium. It's a state of flux.
You know you are at balance, when the pressure to smile is off, but you still flash grins at random people. You go home not feeling mopish about your failed attempt at impressing her - dissappointed maybe, but with enough self respect not to reach for some nicotine or alcohol.
But you never stay in balance for too long. Sooner or later... voices in you head start telling you things like - she wasn't worth it, you're a loser, people will laugh at you, you could use some pornographic release... and all matter of weird shit like that. This is when you have to pull the hand-break and remind yourself of the truth.
Maybe you could use a couple of good buddies - ones who know that God alone defines who you are. Maybe you could get a couple of hot girls-who-are-friends and have a shirley temple at a nice bar. I personally prefer shopping, a ridiculously expensive haircut and grooming my goatee (You: But zech, you're clean shaven. Me: Not from where you're standing). Whatever the method, you're a gentleman. No matter how uncomfortable, you don't do things you will be ashamed of sharing from the pulpit.
The truth is, the truth hurts. What'd you think? Being a man was going to be easy? God-damned haircuts cost me forty ringgit a shear. But whatever reminds you to respect yourself is worth its weight in gold. But i think that will be for part three.
;)
