Sympathy Can Be Found In the Dictionary Between Shit and Syphilis.
Oh, for the single life again at times.
The Single life. Do you know, there was a time not too far back
when I used to enjoy, even strive to some extent towards finding that perfect female mate to share and enjoy good times with, like the majority, dare I say, of most blokes in this world?
The joy of someone to fall asleep with, wake up to, and more is imprinted in our DNA. If you've read my internationally best-selling autobiography 'The Sexual Philanthropist' - firstly, thank you for buying it. As you'll already be familiar with the million or so paragraphs devoted to this very topic I'll say no more. If, by chance, you haven't yet bought and fully digested the contents of my year tapping away at the keyboard, then you have some serious catching up to do, and the link has been provided above.
So, to cut a long story short. Here I am after having some kind of seizure that's perhaps finally, set me straight. Which, by the way, in full context does not in any way suggest that my sexuality has been anything other than straight. It's merely a turn of phrase.
Anyway. The outcome of the seizure was that I'm so set in my ways as a single male, anyone who intrudes on my set ways of living, and, more importantly, seeks to upset this equilibrium will both lovingly, and gently, feel the front end of my right high-top embedded between the cheeks of their arse, metaphorically speaking. I'll explain.
When I was diagnosed with mental health issues some years back now, I made the decision to turn my life around completely, and without any medical intervention or support it became a long and very testing journey to get myself back on track, while fully recognising that for the remainder of my life I will still have an illness, and one that I will be able to efficiently manage in such a way that it doesn't influence my functionality as an otherwise normal citizen.
In other words, I control it, rather than it controlling me. In order for this to happen I have had to adapt and apply strategies that empower, rather than disempower me so I don't end up back at square one, and unwell.
Nothing too stringent, just sensible things that keep living to the minimum of effort, and ease. You know, simple things like, there's a place for everything, and everything in its place. Not having someone around me who picks it up from one place and then drops it in another, so when I go to look for it I'm not wasting time and effort unnecessarily because it's back where it should be. Simple enough, isn't it?
Cleaning up after yourself so that you don't inconvenience others by virtue of your thoughtlessness is an act of kindness that shows respect for those within the same environment as you. Again, not a difficult ask, I would have thought. So, in my view, and, although I accept I may be incorrect, I don't believe I'm being unreasonable, overbearing, or controlling in my expectation and application of what I believe to be basic sensibilities that provide the balance in harmonious living arrangements.
Eric, my housemate is someone I rarely see, except maybe three or four times a day. He has his space, and I have mine, and rarely the twain shall meet, except in passing and the odd, minimal conversation. He's in bed by ten o'clock, or earlier sometimes, and so am I. This is an abode of perfect peace and quiet aside from environmental noises exterior to this building. All it takes is for someone to upset the perfect balance we have created here, and everything goes belly up to the detriment of the peace and harmony that's present, and we all benefit from.
While it's not entirely Keisha's fault that she is everything the rest of us are not, and she has health issues that contribute to this, she has, it would appear, never been in an environment that's not drug, or of an abusive relationship with herself influenced and others, since the age of thirteen related, and understandably she is finding it challenging to adapt to what must feel like wholly different circumstances where rules apply.
Some behaviour modification was needed after a few days of tolerating quite demanding outbursts, and everything being about her and what she needed above everyone else. So, she was sent packing for a weekend to rethink her attitude as I don't do petulant behaviour from anyone, regardless of who they are.
Well, it transpired that her behaviour was due to her not taking specific, GP-prescribed medication and illness was the cause of her sliding downhill so quickly. Now, as sympathetic to her circumstances as I was, it was her own doing and she only had herself to blame for not remedying her situation soon enough, and was told that if she was looking for sympathy it could be found in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.
With that, off she trotted to sort herself out, and told not to return until she had. Amen.
