"An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying....."
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I started this blog hoping to record successes and failures. It would be disingenuous to only highlight the victories despite any prideful wish to craft a persona of perfection online.
I strolled into a local pub with a member from my rogues gallery of friends....there were a number of Brazilian girls present. Their position in the bar was not logistically favorable, in fact, it only allowed for a head on assault with all guns blazing. As I passed to the middle bar, a brasileirinha glanced my way, we both smiled, and I continued on my way. My buddy opened a girl on shift who was surprisingly well-adjusted for being such a cutie. She had the right amount of teasing and sass plus a bit of wit that most girls simply do not possess. I had set forth in my mind that I would do at least one approach and there was no reason not to. Yet...I did not pull the trigger. Admittedly, the brasileirinha's were not as hot as one might normally expect, and it did remind me of Roosh's post awhile back about how the really cute ones are in the motherland, not relocating/through the jumps and hoops and chutes necessary to hack it in the US...but still. I had lamented a shortage of their type in my city....and I watched as the opportunity passed. I simply felt no urgency. No instinctual push. Nothing.
My lust for deep, dark nights has abated as of late, esp. when coupled with 5-6 days training for my fight, and only a day off before back on the grind/getting beat up. I felt the onset of weariness creeping in before I could elevate my state to a more energetic frame. C'est la vie.
Bloodwork tomorrow to make sure my HIV isn't so bad that I can fight another guy with little MMA gloves and try to pummel another person into submission.