the who's and the what's

I sit here quietly, alone in a social gathering because I've never been able to do small talk. Never learned how to mingle and talk sh*t no one really even cares about. Never. It’s an art to engage in and carry on a conversation about nothing. Maybe I would've had more nameless s*x if I had. But I didn't and haven't. Perhaps only because I was honest enough never to give a f***, and knew deep down neither did anyone else.

Always the same cliched questions, the same routine; what do you do, who do you know, how long, etc. Same sh*t again and again. Everyone walking around with the same keys, to see who's pants or accounts they'll unlock. Everyone thirsting and craving the same, each with their social etiquette. Everyone consumed in the “what’s”.

If I was to show a moment of honesty, and tell you that I have my issues, as undoubtedly do you. I have my cr*p, and you have yours. In this day, and at our age, love comes with enough caveats that we'll probably never have a happily ever after. We can hide our demons long enough to say the words, to entwine, and reveal... And then to find we can't cope. I love only that you love me, not all the burdens you lay before me. If I had enough honesty to tell you that, and not as “what” you are, but to tell you that you're beautiful, and when you smile I want to experience a moment with you, to freeze it so that I can look back at some sh*tty moment in my life and smile. Now if I told you that, and that I have nothing more to offer than a few nights of experience, you'd think I was just another f*cking asshole. Another “guy”. Another boy that wants his fun but none of the responsibility. But that's just it. I bore of these games because I've given you honesty. I've ask you who you are, like we all did as children, in school. Our questions were all "who" questions, and we loved and had friendships based on who's. Now all replaced with the bullshit of "what's".

Far from lie, and waste your time with charades, if I was to sincerely tell you I'm interested in experiencing the who, as I love all the who's, you'd walk away. So I save us all the formalities and sit here quietly, alone. Watching all the “what’s” bore themselves into non-existence. Watching and wondering how I never fell into that society. Thankfully, always an outsider. A victim of my own failures. Consumed in my late twenties with my own mid-life crisis and search for proof of life in fleeting moments with women, and where none should make themselves available to me, with wh*res.