This entry brought to you by:

Unibroue Don De Dieu

(bottle) Hazy light amber in color. Huge head. Fantastic aroma of apple peels and bananas and cherries. A strong Belgian wheat flavor. More sharp and tangy than most. Think Blue Moon on steroids. Yummy.

Who was that guy? Seriously, who the fuck was he, and what was his problem?

Don't even try to tell me that guy was me. You'll never convince me. He might have looked like me, and sounded like me, and lived in my house, but he most definitely wasn't me. I would never allow myself to get that messed-up over losing something I never wanted in the first place. No way. That's just crazy.

That guy was fucked-up. I am normal.

For example:

I miss LaptopGirl. As a friend and nothing else. I'm allowed to miss my friend, so fuck off if you don't like it.

I miss MixedSignalGirl. As much more than a friend. But I'm so happy for her, that she's finally found the happiness that was misplaced when she met me. And there's a contentedness about her now. I don't think she ever had that before. I will not take any credit for that transformation, but I'm sure as hell glad that I got to see it.

I miss HatGirl. Because, more than anyone else, she reminds me of the good that is possible in the world. Of how wonderful people can be as long as they just stop trying, and just be themselves.

I miss BadPickleGirl. And I wonder what happened. I'd thought we were getting along just fine. I'd thought there was potential there. Damn she's beautiful.

I miss KittenDamsel. I hope that she's doing okay, and I hope that she finds what she's looking for.

And my dear friend SassyGirl. The only truly platonic girlfriend I've ever had, and maybe the best of them all.

I miss RockGirl. Though I've never met her. Though we email each other every day. She is my strength, and I weaken when too many hours pass without her.

There are so many others. MysteryGirl. PictureGirl. EnglishGirl. PonyTailGirl. EllaGirl. MaineGirl. The girl with the beautiful brown eyes. The girl who was married to my best friend.

I miss them all.

But I'm okay. I'm not obsessed.

I'm normal.

Sane.

Finally.

Wow, two decent nights in a row at Rich O's. I'd never have believed it. Especially not on a weekend when I knew there'd be no HatGirl sightings.

I got there at 8:30 or so, and parked on Mars. The local PBDs and some Cincy PBDs were having a big meeting in the special people area. So that place was packed, but Rich O's proper wasn't too bad. Some weirdoes were in the living room area, and some strangers were at the island. I sat at the end of the bar and had a Wostyntje (129).

Oh yeah, yesterday I stopped at this liquor store and bought about $100 worth of Belgian ales - the big 25-ounce bottles. Mostly stuff I've never had before, but a couple of known favorites. I tried to call BadPickleGirl to let her know about these fantastic new tasting opportunities, but I got no answer. I pretty much managed to convince myself that she wasn't ignoring my call. Pretty much.

Some drunk dude sat next to me at one point, and he kept trying to talk to me, but then Roger distracted him with talk of jazz, so I picked up my shit and moved to the island since the strangers had left.

After a while, UPSDude came and joined me. I spent the next couple of hours talking with him. I also made a couple of trips into the special people area to talk to some of the PBDs. On one such trip, there were a bunch of Cincy PBD girls standing around in a group. I wanted to meet them, so I "accidentally" bumped into one. That got me shanghaied into about five minutes worth of dance lessons. It was that riverdance crap. I kept trying to protest, pointing out that I'm both straight and white. The former preventing me from being able to master that particular dance style, and the latter preventing any other styles that they might want to suggest. But they kept trying, like I said, for about five minutes. Eventually they gave up and I was allowed to leave.

One of the girls was wondering out loud if I'd be blogging about it. I guess she can stop wondering now.

Let's see, my next two beers were both Delirium Tremens (814). No, it's not on tap right now. I had two bottles. I just wanted something light so I wouldn't have a repeat of Friday night's time bomb.

Shortly after UPSDude left, the PBD meeting broke up, and a lot of them came swarming into Rich O's proper. I got a little claustrophobic after a while, and I came home at around midnight.

Okay, so that one particular cool thing didn't happen. But it was still a pretty nice night. I got to relax and look at pretty girls. And I got to wear my cool new t-shirt.

They're having a big S.I.G.H. convention around here somewhere, and all the girls seemed to have picked Rich O's as the place to unwind. From their hotness seminars or pillow fight tournaments or whatever they do at those things.

So the place was packed, but there were at least ten very pretty girls there. This is at least nine and a half more than usual. Pretty girls definitely make the crowd bearable.

When I first arrived, I sat on the loveseat. Some semi-acquaintances were scattered about the rest of the living room area. They know SassyGirl, so I told them about how I'd finally been getting emails from her. We talked for a bit about the good old days of lesbian mud-wrestling parties. I had an NABC Old Lightning Rod (190).

After a bit I moved up to the island and sat with MusicalYuppieDude and some PBDs. My second beer was a Wostyntje (119).

CoffeeDude and WomanRepellant came in at some point. I was talking to them when the President of S.I.G.H. arrived with some dork. I almost lost all self-control, and it's only thanks to CoffeeDude's impromptu therapeutic intervention that I kept from making a complete fool of myself. I did, however, have a Rogue Smoke (450) and then couple of Diet Cokes to kill some time so I could keep looking at Madam President when the opportunities arose.

Oh yeah, at 10:00 or so I drunk-emailed BadPickleGirl. This is always a waste of time because she won't even get the thing until Monday.

Anyway, I've been developing this theory about beer. About me and beer actually. There are some beers, and some combinations of beers, that I simply should not be drinking.

Last night I stumbled on one such combination.

I felt fine when I left Rich O's, at about midnight. I spent some time digging around for some batteries for my camera. Then I took those two awesome pictures above.

Right after I took the second picture, I fell back against the wall, and I was immediately drunk.

Spinning room drunk.

Pretty damn weird.

So I didn't get to practice pool last night. Instead I went to bed and hoped that I wouldn't get sick.

I didn't.

One of the fun things about being a crazy person is that I get to fool myself into thinking that good things might happen. Sometimes, I even convince myself that they will happen.

Like tonight. There's a ridiculously small possibility that this one particular cool thing will happen. But do I care about the odds?

Nope. I've spent all day mentally preparing myself for the cool thing. I've even got special clothes picked out. It's been so much fun.

Of course, every silver lining has a dark cloud, so when the cool thing doesn't happen, I'll snap back to reality, and I'll be quite disappointed.

But then, then the sane part of my mind will take over, and remind me that the odds were really really really against it to begin with.

And then I'll feel better.

And then I'll invent some other fantasy to get ready for.

Wednesday was a pretty good day. Thursday wasn't so great. A couple of people in my life got some disturbing news, and I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do. Or say. Or feel. Please note that these instances are completely unrelated to my previous entry. In that case, I know exactly what I should do, which is nothing.

After work, I went by Rich O's to have their Old Lightning Rod beer (170). They only have this available in January. It's some kind of tribute to Ben Franklin. I wish they'd have it on all the time because it's one of the best beer they've ever made there.

When I got home, I was supposed to just take a nap, but I slept right through my alarm. My two-hour nap ended up being a six-hour sleep. So now it's almost 2:00 and I'm wide awake.

I kept a schedule like this on purpose for a while. I actually liked it. The solitude I got from just being at home always seemed to be magnified in the middle of the night, and I liked it.

Now, not so much. I don't know what's changed. I guess there's a fine line between solitude and loneliness, and at some point over the past few months I've crossed that line.

Oh, well.

Maybe I'll read a book. One of the Heinlein juveniles. They're nice quick reads.

Question: What am I supposed to say or do to make this any easier for you?

Answer: There is nothing that I can do or say. I must appear to be neutral, for as long as I can.

Back in May, I wrote this drivel:

I don't like the way things seem to be turning, but all I can do is wish you well. I can't really help you with this. I could never be objective enough to give you untainted advice.

The situation is different now, but some things have remained the same.

I am not neutral. I can not even pretend to be objective.

I do care what happens. I care very much. Too fucking much.

Today was a good day!

It's RockGirl's birthday! Happy Birthday, RockGirl!

Yay!

I got an email from SassyGirl! I hadn't heard shit from her since she fled the country in September, but today I got an email!

Yay!

I got an email from BadPickleGirl! And then later I got to talk to her!

Yay!

I was reading something today about identities. How we perceive ourselves. How we present ourselves. One of the points made was that too many people will look to what they do for a living when searching for their identity.

If you're a rock star or a movie star or something like that, well that's not too bad. People like rock stars and movie stars. Girls want to screw them. Guys want to be them.

I'm a computer systems engineer. That's not quite as interesting.

See, I just did it, right there. I said, I'm a computer systems engineer. That's how I identified myself. I may as well have said, I'm a boring nerd. Someday, before I die, I hope to touch a woman's breast.

Okay, so I take what I do for a living, and I throw it away. It no longer factors into my identity.

What's left?

Let's try, I'm a writer. I made that absurd statement in October.

That's a little better. It implies creativity, and thoughtfulness. Maybe some intelligence.

But the problem with identifying myself as a writer is - get this - that I have to write. And a fucking blog doesn't count to 99% of the world. So I have to be a real writer and, not only that, I have to write well.

Otherwise, I'm a failure. And that's even worse than a boring nerd hoping to get to second base.

So that identity is out too.

Is there anything else? Who the fuck am I?

How about, I'm a pool player.

Yeah, that's what people want to hear. I poke balls with a stick. I hang out in seedy bars with criminals and I hustle money from people. Sometimes I hit them over the head with pool cues, just for the fuck of it.

Obviously, not the identity I want to present.

And let's not forget beer snob, but I don't think I have to list what's wrong with that identity.

I was going somewhere with this. I really was. But now it's late, and I have to sleep.

Hmmm.

I'm a sleeper.

Maybe I'll use that for a while.

This isn't going to make any sense to some of you. Perhaps to most of you. Either deal with it, or not. Like I fucking care.

If you found yourself in my position, you'd subject yourself to these same restraints. I guarantee it.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that I need a girlfriend now. This is different than the previous 1.3 billion or so seconds of my life, during which I only wanted a girlfriend.

Wants vs. needs have been a big topic for me lately. In my thoughts, and in my writing. I've written about how the needs stay the same, but the wants wander all over the fucking place. I've written about how the needs are facts, but the wants are nothing more than opinions.

I cannot, for example, say that I need her in my life. I cannot say it because it's clearly not true. I've already gone an awfully long time without her, and I'm still here. My fucking heart still beats, marking even more wasted time..

I can't say that I need her in my life. I've already proven otherwise. No matter how painful it's been and no matter how painful it continues to be, she is still just a want for me. Not a need.

I forget where I'm going with this.

Oh, yeah.

I'm pretty sure that, right now, I actually need a girlfriend. Not so that I can live. That would be silly. But maybe I need a girlfriend so I can get some help with something.

See, it's become perfectly clear to me that I cannot do this on my own. I've done everything that I've been able to will myself to do. I've climbed my way out of this damn abyss. Finally. I fell back down more times than I can count, but I kept trying, and I finally made it to safety. In August.

That should have been the hard part. Everything else should be easy. But I can't take that next step. I can't go any further.

I can't turn my back, and I can't walk away.

Imagine, if you will, that you lived at the edge of the Grand Canyon. Imagine what your life would be like. The sights you would see. Imagine having your morning coffee on your deck as you watch the Sun rise over the canyon.

What you imagine, that is my life.

I cannot look away. It's too alluring. Too beautiful. Too dangerous.

I am still, after all these months, mesmerized.

I cannot leave the ledge. Not on my own.

I need help.

I need to move on. I want to move on.

But I need help.

I need to be pulled, kicking and screaming, from here. I need this trance to be broken. I need to be bound, gagged, and blindfolded, and whisked away to another place.

Any other place.

I'm pretty sure that I need a girlfriend.

I've been trying to remember if I ever saw them both on the same night before. I can't recall any such night.

Hey universe, seriously, one per night is enough, okay?

My night started out at The Pub in Louisville, with some curry fries and a yummy Newcastle (2934). Shortly after I arrived, I found myself wondering if I'd see MixedSignalGirl. I just had a feeling that I would. I actually got a little nervous just thinking about it. So, to either ease or confirm my concern, I asked her. I texted her, told her I was at The Pub, and asked if she'd be there.

She responded that she'd be there at 8:30.

Yay!

I found myself with forty-five minutes to kill - forty-five minutes which dragged on for a million years. It would have been nice if I could have gone into a quickie coma or something so I wouldn't have had to wait. It's funny. I've played very important pool matches. I've presented to captains of industry, and generals of the military. I can speak to any crowd on a wide range of topics. I don't get nervous doing any of those things. Yet, when it comes to MixedSignalGirl, I still shake like a leaf. I had another Newcastle (2954) to calm my nerves.

She showed up right on time, which was odd. She was beautiful, which was expected.

The Pub was pretty busy. There were no booths open. Plus this one cow that we didn't want to see was there, so we went across the street to the poolhall Felt where we could have some privacy.

It was very nice to see her. The friendship is still there. I'd had no real idea, until last week, how much the thought that she hated me was dragging me down. When I saw her last week, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. This was more of the same. I float when I'm with her. We're friends again. Anything else, well anything else still seems to be beyond our capabilities. Eventually, we'll learn to deal with that.

At 9:30, her friends started calling her, wondering where she was, and so we parted company.

Next, I went to Hard Rock and had a Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale (84). I tried to talk to CoolHairGirl, but it was pretty busy in there, so we only got to chat for a minute or two. One thing she told me was that she'd never had a Newcastle. I told her that The Pub has the best Newcastle around, and she said that she might go in there with her friend later. She promised to let me know what she thought.

Next, I went over to Rich O's. I went to the restroom as soon as I arrived, and when I came out, lo and behold, there was LaptopGirl, standing there talking to ExBartender.

Yay!

I said Hi and waved at her, even though I was standing about a foot from her. I was a little flustered. I'd been all set to spend the rest of the night missing MixedSignalGirl, and those plans had suddenly gone out the window. Now, I had to shift gears. Now I had to act like a normal person for a while. Make LaptopGirl think I was a normal person.

Inside Rich O's proper, I talked to MisunderstoodGirl for a minute or two. Normally, of course, seeing MisunderstoodGirl would be a cause for minor celebration and several minutes of talk. But not with LaptopGirl in the room. Plus, she was busy talking with OddlyPrettyGirl.

The throne was empty, so I sat there. On the sofa sat BigWheelGirl, LaptopGirl, and WeatherGirl. On the loveseat sat a couple of hippies. Those five were all there together, and I felt a little bit like I was intruding. But what was I supposed to do, sit at the bar? With LaptopGirl to my back? No fucking way.

Oh yeah, beer. I had a Wostyntje (109), and a small sample of something new to me.

Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout (4)

(draft) Black with a large tan head. Fantastic chocolate and malt aroma. The flavor is chocolately and roasty. Very roasty. I'm not even sure that's a word, but I'm using it anyway. Pretty damn good. The 10.6% ABV is very well hidden.

But, she wasn't there to see me. She was there with her friends. And I didn't want to intrude. Actually, that's a lie. I most certainly did want to intrude. I wanted to intrude the hell out of her. Drag her off someplace so we could have an actual conversation. Like the old days. I wanted to intrude, but I somehow restrained myself. Like the old days.

After a while, I gleaned that she'd be heading Westward again soon. So when she got up to leave, I must have said goodbye about a million times. That wasn't enough, so when she was out in the front area saying goodbye to some people out there, I stood and I watched her, and every time our eyes met, I mouthed the word goodbye again.

And then she left, and I started missing her again.

After that, I spent some time spilling my guts to WeatherGirl, because she asked, then I spent some more time trying to undo that damage.

After they started kicking everyone out of Rich O's, I went over to this Jack's place and had myself a PBR (36) and pretended that I was a normal person again.