Living with Regrets . . . . What I Meant to Do.

Hey

If you're reading this, than you, like me, have probably done something that you regret doing. I was perusing an old friend's blog when I came across her thoughts on what she meant to say . . . and if she's reading this, perhaps she may think that I write solely to impress something on her mind. Though that isn't without merit, the truth is is that I'm so tired of living a mask. I want to be known, and there are things to know about me that aren't that pretty, but they are me, and I make no apologies for sharing them. More and more, it seems silence is the enemy.

I'm not a virgin. I'm not proud of it at all. It's a source of great shame for me, because I so desperately wanted to be a lot of things that my dad wasn't - wanted our stories to be as different as possible. What I meant to do was wait till I was married and have ridiculously awkward honeymoon sex that left us both alternately laughing, crying, and amorous. What I meant to do was never kiss a girl unless I loved her, or could at least back that kiss up with the significance of relationship that that act represented. What I meant to do was never, EVER, touch a girl anywhere I wouldn't want a guy touching my sisters. What I meant to do was to be someone who any female friend of mine could trust, knowing I'd never hurt them. What I meant to do was only have sex with one person my whole life.

Good intentions, right? Absolutely useless, though, unless lived out. There's this guy that I strongly believe I am, and he's this hodge podge mix and match of William Wallace, Luke from Gilmore Girls, Maximus from Gladiator, Creasy from Man on Fire, and the dude from Life is Beautiful, Aragorn from LOTR. I'm a fighter, and though I absolutely love wrestling and punching and being knocked out by a man I respect as a physical equal, it's more of a fighting against hopelessness and worthlessness that I find myself locked into. I'm a protector - there are precious things in this world that one does not fuck with, and woe to the one who does. I'm dependable - anytime you need help, I'm here, with whatever help I can offer. I am noble of thought and deed, an inspiration, a leader. I'm laughter and joy and love and delight personified. It's a crazy mix, and I love being me.

But

Some of my actions don't back up claiming to be this guy. And depending on who you are, maybe MOST of my actions don't look like him at all . . .

There are many things I've done that I regret, and by and large, most have to do with how I have treated women in general and one very special woman in particular. Regret is useless, however, in and of itself. I don't think it's enough to just be sorry for doing / not doing something . . . and so, I press on, shaped by but not chained to my past, until little by little, who I'm known for being looks more like who I am than who I've been.