Our last night together was our hands down our worst night together. It was the first time we slept in separate beds since our first date. I was upstairs in mine staring at the ceiling all night long while she was downstairs in the guest bedroom with only her blanket, pillow, and a naked mattress.

Every other night we shared together would at the very least fall asleep smiling at one another before we went to bed. Even if she was pissed at me, it was how happy we were together that made us so magical, it didn’t matter what happened we would always find a way to smile together before we closed our eyes to fall asleep.

My favorite part about our time together was that I always got to wake up each morning next to her. For me it’s never been about who I spend my Saturday night with, all I cared about was spending my night with someone who I wanted to wake up next to each and every Sunday morning with.

But on our last night none of that happen. We both woke up the next morning alone and confused oblivious to the fact that this was our last moment together. We had this fight that boiled over from the bar back to the bed and into the morning.

It was the first time we didn’t fall asleep next to each other smiling. It was the first time we didn’t get to wake up the next morning holding one another. We spent our last night together sleeping in the same apartment. Which breaks my heart because together we found that real thing and we didn’t get to enjoy it up until our last second.

Our night alone was like a goodbye before we even knew it. Maybe we’re only chapters in each other’s story. But the way things ended between us will forever leave a sour “what if” kind of taste in my mouth.

She is someone I will always wish I got to say goodbye too. We had something real, something pure, and it’s something I will never forget. It’s just a things had to end the way we did for us. Together her and I found nirvana. Together it was like all of our dreams became our reality. I don’t think either of us thought we would end as abruptly as we did.

She will always be one of those “what if’s” I’ll be thinking about until the day I die. I will always wonder what if we actually got to say goodbye to each other? Would we still be together? Would I be able to actually sleep at night now? Who knows what could of happened? All I know is that it is never easy to say goodbye, even if you think you can handle it.

Back In My Old Room

It’s bittersweet moving back home. I’m going to miss the life I created for myself down south of course, but I’m ecstatic to be back home with my family and friends again. Emphasis on the family part, because of them I didn’t have to rush to find an apartment to live in. I could move right into my parents basement.

But saying it out loud now is kind of embarrassing. I couldn’t let myself be that thirty year old guy living in their parents basement. The only other thing I could do was to move back into my old room… with my brother. It would be just as if we were kids again. We could push our bed together and have our fall off the bed matches, we can see who can make the most socks into their sock drawer, and if we want to get crazy we can even get ourselves some bunk beds.

As long as I can find a way to prevent myself from living that cliche in my parents basement I’ll be happy. I’d rather not be that creepy thirty year old that lives in his parents basement. I’d much rather be that dude who still shares a room with his brother.

I think it sounds a little classier if I word it that way. The way I see it I have three years and two floors until that day comes and so until then I’ll be bunking with my brother.

P.S. With my luck now that I’ve said this, I wouldn’t be surprised if I wind up in my parents basement in a few years.

Eight O’clock Treat

It was my first week back home in a few months and I needed to make up for all my lost time I’ve been missing back at home. I had nothing to do that day but sit by the pool, work on my tan, and enjoy some ice cold Bud Lights and all things legal thanks to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Being home that week and having no plans were truthfully the best plans.

My dad and brother were working all week and had errands they had to run after work naturally. So I was essentially home alone. It was just my dog and I partying at the house all day until they got home. Her and I have been loving our time together initially, but it didn’t take long until we started going crazy. I can only be still for so long you know.

One night they both got home early so we all hung out on the deck. Then in the middle of conversation they both got up. My brother had a baseball game he had to go to and my father had to run out. It was my first week back home and it’s like I’m spending more time with my dog than anyone else. I wasn’t totally complaining either, I missed her the most anyway.

We were cool for a while that night. She came outside to hangout with me every time I went out just to come back inside and cuddle up next to me on the couch. We were loving our night together. I thought things were going perfectly, we watched 101 Dalmatians, we watched The Secret Life Of Pets, like I know we had a good time together. About three quarters of the way through the Scooby Doo Spooky Island movie she started going batshit crazy. She became restless, she was running around the house, scratching at the door to go outside, and whimpering for who knows why.

I couldn’t figure out why she was acting crazy. I gave her more water, let her roam around outside, and nothing helped. Honestly she was starting to freak me out. It got to the point where the two of us sat in the living room for an hour and a half just staring at each other. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. I assumed she smelt an animal or something outside but every time we went out nothing was there. I refused to let her outside again. Instead we had our stare off.

She didn’t settle down until my dad walked in the door that night. The dog ran over to him more eager and more excited then she typically is when he gets home. As soon as I mentioned that she has been acting crazy he yelled at me, “well did you give her her eight o’clock treat?” Of course I didn’t. How the hell was I supposed to know she gets a treat at eight o’clock? I feel like that’s something they should have told me before they left me alone with her all night.

That’s when I realized that he loved her more than us. My dad remembered to give our dog a treat that night and couldn’t even remember to pick up my food for me on the way home. We don’t have to eat dinner every night right?

I’m Talking Bout Chi-Town

It was just another Sunday night in Chicago. But for us it was our last night visiting the city and the only thing we had planned was dinner with some friends. We had an hour to kill before we needed to start getting ready so we could make the dinner reservations. It was an hour we should have spent getting ready.

Instead we got lost in each other. It was just us in her friend’s one bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. I was sitting on the desk on my laptop writing about her while she was sitting on the bed staring at me. Neither of us could ignore our attraction towards one another. We could only fight back the urge to keep our hands off each other for so long.

Our lips met in the middle of her apartment, our hands found each other’s body, and without saying a word we knew we were going to waste that time together. We took full advantage of every second of that hour not letting our hands leave one another. We laid there in the bed together pending every last second together until we finally had to get ready.

When her alarm for us to change went off we already knew we were going to be late. We rushed to get ready, sharing the single bathroom each of us showering while the other was doing their hair. The reservation we were supposed to make was 8:30 and she didn’t get out of the shower until 8:15. We spent every bit of our extra time we had together and felt well behind schedule.

Neither one of us really cared. We were soaring on this high together. Our eyes barely left each other. I found myself sitting on the toilet fully dressed while I waited for her doing her makeup. I just couldn’t let myself be away from her. To us being late was no issue, everyone was there already they didn’t have to wait for us. We got dressed, twisted something up for our walk, and made our way to the restaurant.

When we got there and found our friends the waiter was just bringing out the bread and oil. Evidently we had impeccable timing. I couldn’t tell you what everyone was talking about at dinner. I just remember laughing with everyone else while they laughed. Most of the time I couldn’t hear the conversation or understand their inside jokes but still enjoyed every second of it admiring how beautiful she is.

It was less than an hour ago we were laying in bed completely vulnerable. She had no makeup on, I had my hair all over the place, and we were laying in bed naked together. All of dinner I couldn’t hear a thing. All I could think about was how soft her skin was, how perfect her lips fit onto mine, and how I couldn’t wait to feel her again.

We didn’t even order our entree and all I was thinking about was her. I wasn’t even hungry anymore. We were at this extravagant Italian restaurant with all of her friends and all I could think about was getting her alone with me again. She was my tour guide showing me this beautiful new city and all it has to offer and all I wanted from it was her. She could see in my eyes and we left dinner leaving cash for our tab while everyone else waited for the check.

That Sunday night in Chicago might have been my favorite night of all.

It’s All About Who You Know

It was just a small little job someone asked me to help them with on a Saturday. Apparently the electrician they had doing the work ghosted them and they just needed someone to get done ASAP, so they called your boy. It really wasn’t that intensive, all I had to do was install the lights and outlets in a newly renovated house.

Something that would normally take me maybe five hours to get done got dragged out to be all day. Since I was being paid cash, by the hour, I took full advantage of it. I got into that house, shut off all the power to the place, and got after it. Evidently I wasn’t the only one working in the house that day. About an hour later three guys pulled up to do the paint trim out painting on all the walls.

The only hiccup was that they didn’t speak a lick of english. I tried to say hi to them, you know the usual, “Another day another dollar” kind of thing and all they did was laugh like I was Mitch Helberg. They had no idea what I was saying. So I proceeded to turn up my music and do my job. They weren’t working on the first floor so I attacked there first. Once I finished that in record time I headed upstairs.

One of the guys was upstairs painting the doors, so I started in the room opposite him. I wanted to stay out of their way as much as I could mostly so I could still listen to my music all the way up. I had the whole master bedroom to myself and finished the room in four songs. When I got in the second room, the one where he was working, productively instantly went down.

As soon as I got in the room he was working in, he said something to me in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, I could make out two words he said and they were; grande and gringo and he pointed to my companies logo on our shirt. So all I knew was that he was talking about this big white dude. I asked him to say it again and still processed nothing more than the protagonist being a big white dude I had nothing.

He saw the blank stare I had on my face and promptly pulled out his Google translate and started talking into it like there was no language barrier between us. I don’t know what it was, maybe my clothes smelt like last night, maybe I mentioned something about partying too hard while I was on the phone, I’m not sure what it was but something about whatever I was doing opened the door for him to talk to me.

He broke the ice with his joke about the big white guy that works for my company making fun of his beard. He had me hooked, I was all for whatever he had to say, even if I couldn’t understand it. His phone was telling me what he was saying and I was dying laughing. laughing needs no translation. After that we couldn’t stop talking to one another.

Neither one of us was working anymore. We spent the rest of our Saturday afternoon shooting the shit. I’m not sure if it was the vibe I was giving him or if he could sense it off of me but he knew I liked to party. Maybe it was our back and forth joking with each other, but I felt like I could be honest with him.

But I didn’t want to be too direct so I answered as vaguely as I could, “Oh yeah most definitely, especially on the weekends.” I spoke that into his phone, waited for it to translate my English to Spanish and when his phone said those out loud he instantly smiled.

It was clear to me that whatever game he was playing I became a part of. It was like he knew exactly the type of person I was without us even having a full conversation with him. He asked me if I had to work the next day and I said, “Hell no it’s Sunday.” He then asked me if I liked to party and I said yes, confused as to why he was asking again.

He then asked again “?Te gusta la fiesta?” Of course me being the person I am, couldn’t say no no matter how many times he kept on asking me. Of course I love to party. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. All of a sudden this guy transformed from friend into a businessman real quick.

His demeanor got more serious when he spoke into his translator, “I have a good connect with some good stuff. It’s $1,000.00 for an ounce for that yayo.” Of course when he said it in Spanish I had no idea what he was talking about. The only thing I understood was a thousand dineros for yayo.

I knew what dinero was and that was all I cared about. All I heard was an eighth for one hundred twenty five bucks was going to give me some extra spending cash for awhile. Just like that I became one of the biggest distributors for the cartel in Charlotte North Carolina.

So I guess if anyone needs anything let me know.

Worst Job Ever

There’s plenty of shitty jobs out there. I have a long list of jobs I would never do like; being a painter, a mover, or a plumber are some of my least favorites. Those jobs are dirty, physically strenuous, and honestly kind of boring. To each his own, but it isn’t something I could do for more than a couple hours.

After traveling for work so much and being limited to predominantly public gas station bathrooms, there’s a new job at the top of the list, someone that has to clean those bathrooms. I’m in and out of strangers’ houses all day long to fix their electrical problems and it baffles me how disgusting some people choose to live.

Which leads me to the poor souls that have to clean up after us filthy animals in the bathroom. I know I’m not always the cleanest guy in the toilet but that’s because of all the crap I put into my body. I at least have the decency to flush the toilet or not use the entire roll of toilet paper at once and clog the toilet. There are some disgusting people out there you don’t know the half of it.

That has to be the worst part of their jobs; trying to unclog the toilet so hard that no matter how hard they try to cut up the mess in the toilet or hit it with the plunger with that shit water spraying all over the place and not being able to fix it. Then it gets worse, they then have to lock the stall door from inside the stall and crawl under the door onto the floor they had just soaked with all the waste that was in the toilet, to get out from the locked stall. Just to put a piece of paper on the door saying “out of order” and calling a plumber to come fix it.

There’s many jobs I won’t do, but when I saw the bathroom attendant have to do that one day, I knew that had to be the worst job out there and I’m sorry. I know how gross us guys can be and for all of us, even those assholes who use all the toilet paper, We’re sorry.

The PanHandler

I like to think I have a decent job. I mean it pays the bills, keeps a roof over my head whatever right. The thing that sucks about my job is that I actually have to work. Like bust my ass you know? Sometimes I come home from work smelling like I just played a game of football.

Sometimes I get some easy days but for the most part I get stuck working all day long. Which I know we all do but sometimes it can be exhausting. The only time I get a break is lunch and that isn’t always guaranteed. There was one job I was running and I made it a point for us to take lunch.

Mentally and physically I knew we needed it. For that hour, oh yeah I’m a cool boss, we would sit out in front of the job site and eat our lunch. At the corner of the street maybe forty feet from us, there was this panhandler who was there everyday. Each day I watched as people were doing their good deed for the day giving him a dollar.

I spent my lunch counting how many dollars, granted they could have been more, he was getting. During the hour-long lunch we took, I saw this man make sixteen dollars cash. Maybe more. All he was doing was just chilling with his headphones in and a sign.

There I was stressing to make the deadline for the job turning my hair grey for at the time twenty something an hour. Maybe I have this work thing all wrong. If I spend a couple hours sitting on the corner I could walk away with enough cash to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head. Maybe they got it all figured out.

Must Be Wicked Cool

The other day I called the customer before I left my house to head to this house so he’d be ready for me. I’d rather give them a heads up so they can be there waiting for me as opposed to me waiting for them. Time is money, you know. When I call someone I always say the same thing when I call, “Hey how are ya? This is Troy, the electrician you called, looks like I’ll be there in about a half hour. Does that work for you?”

It’s a pretty basic line but gets straight to the point. Typically there are two types of responses I get back, “Alright perfect we’ll be here” or “Is there any way we can do something later I’m not around right now.” Which if that’s the case I’ll do some of my other calls and come back to this one later. No issue.

But this morning when I called this dude he put my mind in a pretzel. Instead of saying he was home waiting for me all he said to me was, “Oh my dad’s name was Troy…” There was silence after that. It was all he said. So I proceeded to tell him that I’ll be there in about a half hour and then he hung up. Without even saying bye. There was a long enough silence to know the conversation was over.

Naturally when I got there I used my name as my ice breaker. I asked, “Oh so your fathers name was Troy too, I bet he was wicked cool.” I thought it was a perfect line. I mean I don’t know any Troys that aren’t dope. It was a line that would work ninety nine percent of the time. Unfortunately this was one of the one percenters.

All he said was, “Yeah.” That was the last word he said to me. I figured out his problem, got the head nod to do his work, and didn’t hear him say another word until he said, “Alright thank you.” as I was walking out his front door to leave. I don’t know what kind of relationship he had with his father but if I had to guess it wasn’t a healthy one. Which baffled me? If that’s the case why would you even bring it up. Like of course I’m going to ask you about your father if he has the same name as me.

I think it’s safe to say he won’t be calling me back any time soon. Which is a shame because he needed a shit ton of electrical work.

I Hope It Was Only A Nightmare

I had one of my worst nightmares ever the other night. My dream started off uneventful. I was just walking around my neighborhood like nothing was going on. I stopped by a bar for a drink and had a few drinks. I was happy to be in this dream, chilling in a bar has been far better than the other dreams I’ve had like where I was fighting a home invasion or a zombie apocalypse.

This dream felt real. I honestly felt like I was just out on a Friday after work, but then I saw myself in the mirror and got lost in this nightmare. I saw myself in the mirror and noticed my tooth was chipped. This is when it started feeling real. I forgot I was dreaming and damn near gave myself a panic attack.

I found myself fighting back tears in the bathroom freaking out about my chipped tooth. I don’t know any doctors down here, I wouldn’t even know how to start the process of looking for a dentist. Can you like just walk into a dentist office and ask them to fix your tooth? Is that how it works? I was stressing myself out trying to figure out how to fix my tooth.

Abruptly my alarm woke me up and I had to run to the bathroom to check and see if my tooth was chipped. Waking up in my bed wasn’t a sure enough tell that it was only just a nightmare, I had to see for myself. This dream messed me up so bad I had to talk about it.

So I brought it up to my spirit guide and apparently a chipped tooth in our dreams is actually symbolic. She was informing me that; depending on whether your tooth is already chipped, or if you chip your tooth, or if you’re fixing a chipped tooth in a dream can all represent different things.

In my case I noticed I had a chipped tooth which means; that my form, both physically and mentally are strong, but I’ve recently picked up some bad habits. These bad habits can break down both our mental and physical health. Which I could totally understand, I definitely have picked up some bad habits and in the past two months I’ve had more pimples than I did during puberty. So yeah that makes sense.

But then they ended their whole article saying that it could also just be deja vu. Which would completely contradict everything they were just writing about. Either way I’m freaked out. I’m bringing a mouth guard with me to work and wearing it every time I have to use a drill. I’ve already chipped it four times and down here I have no way of fixing it.

I just hope this dream doesn’t come true.

Just Don’t Miss

I must admit, I love to get down. I’m ready to go at any time of the day. It never matters where we are, I’m always craving it. As soon as I wake up in the morning until I fall asleep at night it’s on the forefront of my mind. Anyway I can get it, I’ll take it. I don’t mind if we take things slow, or if she wants to take charge, let just go get tangled in the sheets.

The other night I got lucky. It had been awhile since the last time I got frisky and to say I was eager to get down again would be an understatement. The way I couldn’t stop smiling in between our kisses and the chills she sent down my spine, you would have thought this was my first time ever fornicating. Her and I got our hands on each other and never looked back.

She was kissing me, I was kissing her then all of a sudden she was on top of me and I found myself lost in her euphoria. I was completely infatuated with. My adrenaline was racing through my veins, her love was intoxicating me, just rubbing her body and holding her tightly wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. I needed more. All my rationale went out of my head and I went for it, I slapped her ass, being so caught up in the moment we had.

It wasn’t one of those “good game” kind of slaps people give each other, it was a real slap. I mean I wound up, I cocked my arm back, and slapped her ass. I didn’t think twice about it. I had no idea how hard I was swinging. I just swung it forward. I got lost in the moment, I was engulfed with the rush of what we were doing and just went for it again. She didn’t seem upset, or annoyed, or turned off in any way by it.

Naturally I took it as a green light to proceed and do it again. This time I wound up slightly further than I before and was ready to sling my arm forward with more velocity than it did before. I didn’t look before I swung my arm, I thought I knew where I was going, so I just slung my hand forward expecting to slap her ass again. Only this time I didn’t slap her ass.

I accidentally wound up directly smacking my right nut. It was the hardest slap I could throw and I missed. It was a real slap, let me tell you, there was no five second delay on this one. As soon as I hit my ball I instantly became sick to my stomach. I was in agonizing pain and honestly thought I was going to puke but I couldn’t let her know what happened. I just slapped myself in the ball, there isn’t much more embarrassing than that.

For the rest of our night together I held her on top of me holding her tightly. While she had her head on my shoulder moaning and sighing having a good time, I was moaning too, just my moans were moans of excruciating pain. I laid there staring at the ceiling fighting back my tears of pain, and periodically checking my ball to make sure it was still there. I hit it so hard, the pain was that bad, I actually thought I popped it. Yeah I came in that hard for a smack that I honestly thought I popped my own ball.

My warning to you the next time you try to smack someone ass, be careful, and make sure you have the right trajectory. Because if you miss it can instantly turn a good time into a bad time.

Does He Even Workout ?

My brother is in good shape. I haven’t seen him in awhile but he’s been talking about being at the gym for awhile now so I’ve been under the impression that he’s been taking decent care of his body. We never really talked much but as of recently he’s been calling me while he’s at the gym. So I know he at least goes to the gym.

I just think it’s weird to talk on the phone while you’re at the gym. I understand if you’re on the treadmill or something but who would want to be talking on the phone with someone while they’re trying to max out their squats. But then, when I started spending twenty minutes, maybe a half hour, sometimes an hour talking to him on the phone…while he’s at the gym… I’m not convinced he works out. There’s no way. How can he work out if he’s on the phone the whole time?

I have two theories; one is that maybe he actually works at the gym. Maybe like he’s the guy that works there putting all the weights back people left on machines. Or maybe he goes around cleaning all the equipment after someone uses it. It would explain why he’s always able to talk on the phone with me for so long while he’s at the gym. And if that’s the case than props to him, at least he’s getting paid to be there.

My second theory is that he’s that weird guy that goes to the gym but never works out. He’s the guy you see filling the bench bar with all the heavy weights only to take a lap around the gym just to come back and remove all the weights he had just put on the machine. Maybe he doesn’t even work out at all, he just goes there for the clout.

Either way it’s uncertain whether or not he actually works out. I’m dubious for sure so please if anyone sees him at the gym working out please take a picture of him for me. It’s gotta be something more than him just walking on the treadmill or racking and un-racking a machine. There’s no way he actually works out.