When I was 7 years old, my great grandmother read my palm. She told me that I would be one of the greatest, most recognized men on the planet, but that I would be lonely.
Rich and miserable.
I have a consistent internal struggle on a daily basis. I touched on this briefly in my previous post “I Know You Not A Pimp, But Pimp” but today I want to go in depth and see if I’m not the only crazy motherfucker out here.
When dealing with human beings in general, particularly women, being balanced is a major component to being successful. If you’re too much of an asshole, you turn them off and push them away. Too much of a sweetheart, you get run over and they leave on their own. You know this. The idea is to be well rounded and a mixture of both. Exert love but take no shit, dig?
I remember being Injured during my athlete days and hearing my Father and the defensive coordinator having a conversation where my Dad said:
He doesn’t know how to go half speed.
Man, when it comes to love I’m either all in or feigning interest to achieve a goal. A poet and a pimp, so to speak. If I’m not interested in a woman past anything but the physical, it’s simply going to be that. I don’t fall in love with every woman I come across, so I can have sex and go on about my day without contacting or responding to her until one of us gets that urge.
Personally? My empathetic needs outweigh my physical ones. I fucking LOVE being in love. I honestly think it’s because I’m egotistical. The male ego is directly linked to male emotion so the correlation is obvious. I THRIVE off of having my ego stroked. For example, when people speak ill of me or talk down, I use it as effective fuel and motivation. When people speak highly of me? It’s almost like a fucking high. It makes me want to be better than I already am, to push myself past limits that once struggled with. When I’m up in the middle of the night writing these articles, working on books and films, etcetera what keeps me going are the compliments. The promise of glory and recognition. To me, Compliments and praise are better than Christmas presents and milkshakes. The feeling that radiates through my stomach and heart when people take time out of their day to say something about ME? I love it so much that it may be a problem. Writing this article may give my enemies an advantage by knowing what to use against me, but fuck it. It had to be said.
So if I feel that strongly about praise and glory, imagine how I feel about a woman genuinely, unconditionally loving me. I get so wrapped up in love that the real world doesn’t exist. The only thing that matters is what she and I have going on. Love makes me complacent. Being comfortable with someone and allowing myself to be completely open and vulnerable is one of the most freeing feelings in the world. I fall in love and have to remind myself that other things matter. I find myself calling off my day job, traveling and writing less. I find myself gaining weight and neglecting my family and friends. I may play it cool with her, but when the love is mutual, I’m borderline obsessed. Seriously look at what one of my best friends said:
Love makes me weak. Love clouds my vision and logic. When in love, I tend to overlook flaws and red flags. I’ve learned that I’m a pretty difficult man and a lot to deal with, but when love is involved I accept things that I normally wouldn’t because I fear the loss of love. Not even fear, I loathe the feeling of a love lost. The physical and emotional pain of the absence of love is crippling. My mind is already overactive, so having to literally say “Malcolm, shut the fuck up” out loud to silence my thoughts should say enough. When dealing with love lost, I seldom think about the bad that the woman did. I think about the smiles, the late night talks after marvelous, sweaty, passionate sex. How she played in my hair as I drove my Lexus through Atlanta on a winter day. How she prepared a sauce and then asked me to taste it as we danced around the kitchen to 90’s R&B. The thoughts eat me ALIVE. I miss the LOVE the most, which goes back to my previous statement about how much I adore the good times.
When the love is lost I yearn to replace the feeling. The person who posses the love can dangle it in front of me and there’s a good chance that I’ll bite. Or, I find myself dealing with a barrage of women looking for the connection. I despise the fact that I desire it so much because I can be manipulated by it. Love is my kryptonite, my Mary Jane Watson. The only good that comes from the yearning is the art I create.
I am a love addict. I’m such a difficult, conceited asshole that when someone truly falls in love with me I treat it in a manner that I shouldn’t. I’ve grown to learn that my desire must be controlled and checked. That I can’t continue to be consumed by love, no matter how good it makes me feel. I have to use the love to my advantage as a motivator, not a clutch.
Self awareness is key. See yall Friday.
– International Malcolm