The Obi Show Episode 6

I’m not the man you are looking for.  That’s sad, for you.  I would have moved mountains for you but you seem to be looking for something far more simple.  I’m not sure what I could have done to show you that I was worthy of your attention but there it is.  Nothing and that’s your loss, not mine.  I will one day find someone who will see me as what I once saw in you.  When that day comes, I only hope you are able to find your prince.

So there you go.  Words that came to my mind this morning.  I was thinking of someone specifically but it could apply to all the women that I have ever looked longingly upon.  I find my self in a state of not caring so much.  Or caring as much as I’ve been cared for.

Too often I’m a convenient set of ears.  Someone that will listen to your plight and will side with you regardless of what I actually think.  You may have been a hero of mine but now…  It’s a zero-sum game.  Whatever gains can be made, losses washes that away.  I’m left exactly as I was before I fell in love with you.  I’m not made worse but nor am I made better.

As much as I try to profess that I’m a romantic, this isn’t romantic.  This is sad and tired.  I no longer feel that my life is just a toy for you to feel better about and then toss into a box.  I’m Louis, or Obi, and I’m worth it.  You may not see it or, hell, understand this but that’s not my problem.

You see I deserve more than this clown act I give you.  I deserve more that being that guy of convenience when you need to feel better about your lot in life.  I deserve a hell of a lot more than what I have gotten from the likes of you.

I come away from this a better man.  I know what I feel and the love I’m capable of and that’s not going away.  What is going away is my need to be punished because I dared to dream.

I feel like a tool. If you are bored or in dire need of human contact, I’m there. But if you are good, then I don’t exist. I feel like a modified Schrödinger’s cat thought exercise. I’m in a box for people but I both exist and don’t exist until someone opens the box and see. So far I’ve not been hit with hydrogen cyanide but it’s bound to happen.

Now I know that friends of mine truly adore me but I can’t escape the idea that I’m alone.  I’m a convenience but I don’t rock anyone’s world.

I sit here now, thinking of what I should do.  What could I possibly do that would change this mental dilemma I find myself in.  Of those things I could do, would I feel better for them?  Would I wake up in the morning satisfied that this is who I should be and not feel like I’m not just taking advantage.  Don’t know and in the end it doesn’t really matter.

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iPhone loaded, I’m ready for tomorrow.

Once I walk out of the coffee shop, the nervous little boy is put back in his box and I smoke a cigarette.  I’m chatting with my pal and he mentions something along the lines of telling her how beautiful she is.  With no hesitation I say that I would tell her, for him, because I’m fearless…  When it’s not me.

There is something wrong with me because I have no qualms with saying anything unless it’s about me.  Somehow, it’s okay to walk up to a stranger and tell her she is beautiful as long as it doesn’t involve the nervous skip of my own heart.  At that point it is too much.  Somehow it’s not rude at all for me to just walk up to a stranger and say anything but if my heart is in it, well that’s just rude.  I’m somehow inconveniencing them because there is not illusion that it’s not my funky ass telling them this.  It’s harmless and of no consequence.  Like me.

I down 800mg of ibuprofen to satiate a headache formed, I suspect, from my fretting over… Another woman I’m smitten with that will lead no where.

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