comment-allez vous?

i smell like a french whore....booze, cigarettes, and sex emmanate from my clothing....my pores wreak of sexy perfume and yet I'm alone. Scores was the setting for the decadence and debauchery of tonight's festivities, a night of fun amongst four friends: Scott, Kevin, Andy and I. Andy had broken up with his girl, young fun, and the goal was to take his mind off her. Young fun is an 18 year old with a 4 year old baby, an ex-husband in jail for raping another girl at knife-point, and a hell of a coke habit. She and Andy broke up due to complications that could not be resolved through intense discussion and makeup sex. The short end of the story is that she cheated on him with two guys in one weekend. He's still tore up about it. Go figure. I've been there. Regardless of the girl's morals, it's difficult to call it quits, whether or not it's for the right reasons. Distress, depression, and confusion is so much more acceptable than being cut off cold turkey from lovin. And yet I hoped that the gentlemen's club and comraderie would provide enough of a distraction to deter him from focusing his solidarity onto her.
Sadly, I discovered, through the detective work of an otherwise dopey and high minx named Veronika (stage name), that Andy frequented the club. No wonder why he's nearly 30 years old and can barely afford a condo in Oakbrook. For the past year I've teased him time and time again for dating a girl 10 years his junior. She's more than trouble for any man, she's a disaster. More power to any man that can handle a single mother, but any single mother that cheats on a man willing to "put up with" her progeny, deserves to be cut off.
I am the child of a single mother. I am a 25 year old man wandering the earth, trying to discover and uncover myself. I know what it's like to be raised by a man who isn't my biological father. Looking back, I'm lucky to have had anyone accept both my mother and I as part of the relationship. My mom was lucky, many aren't.
I learned from strong women in my family the values and morals with which I am to live my young life. Granted, I don't follow them as often as I should, but the respect with which I treat women is all too often confused as that of a gay man trying to associate with the sex with which he feels a close connection. What ever happened to good old fashioned respect? What ever happened to feeling a need to protect the woman who trusts you with all her heart and a piece of her soul? Why is cheating so ubiquitous in the year 2005? Has it always been this way and I'm just a naieve young man raised in a sheltered youth by an anomoly of a family? I doubt this much is true.

I do know that I'm drunk, that my mother would not be proud, that I paid for a dance this evening, that I'm typing my life away in the cold comfort of the soft glow of an oversized monitor on an early August Thursday morning in Chicago, contemplating the meaning of being tout seule while allowing my mind to drift away to the sounds of the Rolling Stones.

Fifty bucks poorer and chillling. T minus seven hours until the workday.

Whoisjobe?