While I know why I do certain things, I can’t really explain why I do certain things.
Feel me? Probably not. Let me try this another way.
A long time ago, I washed a pen in some jeans. Genius move I know. So I pull the pen out of the now so fresh and so clean jeans andI get to pondering. I say to myself, “Self, I wonder if I open this pen cap, will ink spill all over the place?”
Now, this is a dumb question. Everybody knows that if you wash a pen, it generally breaks and goes squidward on your 501s. Most people are just happy to find out that their jeans are unblemished. Panama on the other hand? Nope. I shun common sense in the face of adversity. I scoff at normalcy and unproven factual theories. Sure there MIGHT be ink, but if I don’t pull the pen cap off, can I really say with complete certainty that my pen DID break and I’d get ink everywhere? Philosophy, thou art my maiden.
So yeah, I pulled open that pen cap and got ink on my hands (took forever to clean off) and all over my cheap beige-Halle Berry colored rug. Pure genius move. Plus, everybody knows I’m a motherf*cking monster.
Now the point of this story is that I pretty much knew what was going to happen but I still eschewed conventional wisdom and pulled the cap, caught the fade, and cleaned the carpet. Quadruple C’s.
So what’s the second point of this story? Well, two things. 1) scared money don’t make money, and b) relationships would probably be so much smoother if more of us acknowledged that we just damn know better most of the time…and f*cking leaned on that principle. I can’t tell you how many situations I’ve been in where I KNEW what the right answer was, or what the right way to handle a situation would be, should be, or how it all could be, and because of my own pride, I let the sh*t ride. Front back, and side to side.
It’s interesting too because nobody is immune to it though it seems like a solid 99 percent of men’s problems in relationship comes down to knowing better and doing otherwise anyway. In fact, that’s probably the reason women stay pissed and peeved (not angry) with us so often, we do little stupid sh*t that we know better than to do. Our biggest liability in most situations is that we aren’t dumb.
Like, I know that if we get into an argument you just want me to listen to you and acknowledge what you have to say. But we’re beefing, f*ck that. I’d rather create the second argument that has nothing to do with the first one just so that you don’t get the satisfaction. Seriously, how f*cking retarded is that?
I know when you ask me how you look that you don’t want to hear “fat” or “not bad”. But do I just say “good” or “lovely”? Nope. I say “not bad” or “you don’t look bad at all.” Semantics is a motherf*cker and I know that. Yet, for whatever reason, my ability to take the shortest distance between my mouth and your nudity never seems to occur. Which is even worse for somebody who writes a relationship blog (unless its a sh*tty one…they really might not know better). I can’t get out of any argument because it’s OBVIOUS that I just damn know better.
I know what to say. I know what to do. I just chose not to do or say the right things because…well, I don’t wanna. Pride is a helluva drug. Which again…stupid logic. I’ve got hometraining and effectively, my entire upbringing was dedicated to making sure that I knew better than to make a bad decision whenever one presented itself.
It’s like getting a liberal arts degree. I keed. I keed. #occupywallstreet
I know better than to stick my wang in what looks like a wang shredder. I know not to poke the bear. And I know to just letting sleeping dogs lie. Because I know better.
I know to just tell you whats on my mind. I know to let you know if I’m going to need to change plans. I know that I shouldn’t grind up on that chick in front of you or anybody that knows you. I know I shouldn’t make certain comments to an ex or hug that voluptuous chick with the dong too long. I know that I shouldn’t find myself in a compromising situation even if its not totally my fault…and if I do, I know that I should get myself out of it as quickly as possible. ASAP. And I know that if I get caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, either big or small, I shouldn’t lie. When I was 6 lying made it worse and when I’m 60, lying will make it worse.
I just damn know. And yet I don’t do it anyway. Or do do it anyway. Or do that thing that I wasn’t supposed to have did done. The things you do, make me come running to you…to stab you. Or at least that’s what she said.
With great power comes great responsibility and with growth comes bigger drawz. But sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me as I quest to get better about doing some things. Or why I’ve been that way anyway. Like, I KNOW what I should do or say most of the time and I still struggle. If I was a Carebear, I’d be Struggle Bear. Actually, that doesn’t even fit.
But if I know better, I should just f*cking do better, right? Like Donuts track #2, I’m workinonit.
What about you? Are you part of the #struggleteam? If so, why? Why don’t we (men and women – women f*ck up too) just damn do better? How much time do you spend mad at your boo because they do some f*cksh*t despite the fact that they know better? Why are there so many questions? Do I know? Do I know? Why’d I just ask the same question twice? Who ya wit?
-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. FEELYOGUHL aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3