Can I vent to you

October 18, 2017 by Patrick Starks



A lot of my guy friends call me a good guy, a good friend; and for the girls, they call me either sweet, brotherly, or the same—a good guy. But over the years of heart break and disappointment, I’d sometimes feel that wasn’t what people really wanted, what they needed.

I’d watch my best friend Matt date many girls at the school we went to, praying to the gods, my god that he’d soon meet the one; but of course, going to strip clubs, clubs in general, would tell me and the women around him otherwise. But Matt wasn’t the only bad apple I’d find in my comparable life, there was also Kendra. She smelt like a fresh wash, from a long shower, in which I assumed she always did. She was a gorgeous woman; no man would deny that. But she just like Matt, would always find a way to abuse the gifts she had; although, what she had wasn’t much of a gift to begin with—I found everyone in my life to be beautiful, as long as you had a good soul of course, one in which overtime I would feel Kendra remained absent of.

Kendra would date many great guys, many gentleman, some that I would even become great friends with. But like Matt she would always find an excuse to excuse herself from them; he was to nice, he was thirsty, he was always busy or I’m too busy would be her very thoughts, the very thoughts she’d tell me. And so it would seem that Kendra, my Kendra could never keep a man by her side, but of course as foolish as I was, there was always me, a fool in love.

I’d ponder on the idea of what it would be like if Matt and Kendra hooked up, what it would be like, and if it would ever work. But apparently I was beaten to the punch for that they had already been seeing each other for quite some time—months, so I was told. And now for my Jerry Springer moment I’d laugh, having little confidence to the two non-committed people I had in my life. Sadly Kendra never knew that I had feelings for her, and I honestly couldn’t tell you why, a good guy like me deserved better didn’t I?

Good guys and girls would somehow always find a way to being in relation with the bad boys and girls, but I always wondered why we could never be in relation with each other. My parents were my only hope for something as good as what I said to ever happen. My dad was always a good, hardworking, honest man, one that would always do everything he needed for the family, and more so for mom. And mom, well mom was mom; big hearted, a fighter—she was a Taurus. She’d always wanted the best for me and my brother, to keep moving forward to be strong, and still to this day I thank the gods she never really asked for any grandchildren as I wonder alone in the complicated world I stand.

Was it that the good people and the bad were the same, that we didn’t really want what we asked for but the opposite—I started to believe that it be the true reality behind our intentions, the one thing that burdens us all, our insecurities. But it’s a good thing I vent to you now, I guess it shows that I’m at least aware of mine, but I’d dwell if others were aware of theirs as the years went on.

I never really believed myself to be at all like any of them. There were many nice, fantastic women I would date, ones with great morals, and upbringing, but still they’d find ways to demoralize my chivalrous character, as if there was something wrong with me. But don’t feel bad, I knew deep down that wasn’t true, only the fact that I was maybe born into the wrong era. As brutal as it was, being in the time of men like Shakespeare would have been glorious; only to have my kind words, my wisdom, my big heart be appreciated by the woman around me, more so, the woman in front me, where men had respect for the woman, but it seems those days were too far back for me ever to grasp.

Going back to Matt and Kendra. They apparently worked as an item, and were together for at least two to three years, even had a child; and yet, they still didn’t last divorcing just after a few months, fighting for custody over the poor child they brought into this world. It was obvious that Kendra would get the kid for the most part, when it came to court rooms the women were always in favor. Kendra would have to be on drugs for Matt even to see his child more than two times out of the week, but I know he wished she was; Kendra was addicted to cocaine in her earlier years, but had immediate rehab before any harm could be done to her or her career.

As for me, I was still pursuing in what I loved to do, that being painting. I had now grown quite a praise for myself having my paintings being put into the best museum in Seattle. I had a few offers of payment, a couple of mil here and there, but I turned them all down; to me the painting was more to me than money—a man-made currency I was never fond of—I felt it one way or the other would always bring the bad and ugly out of people, but of course there were wonderful people like Oprah Winfrey that would sway my negative notion to the materialistic things in life, for that they’d done so much good with it.

It was a Friday night, and I was presenting the last showing of my art. I looked around the room, and joy and laughter was upon everyone’s faces, although part of me felt it was the chardonnay in the many held glasses that would bring out such emotion; I was sober, so it made the night interesting, you’d be surprised the things you see at an art museum, as people would nearly knock over the paintings and sculptures they stood next to—just watching the hearts drop of the other artist around me would make me feel I myself had had a glass somewhere down the line, just don’t remember when.

As the night eventually came to its end and the room cleared, there stood a woman. She held a radiant glow and the smell of her perfume made me want to stalk her like Edward did Bella in that movie Twilight. She was locked on to my painting, and became teary eyed as she gazed at it longer than her eye lids could stay open. I figured this would be my chance, grandchildren for mom I grinned, but that be way too soon to think about, and way to weird. I asked her what her name was and she blushed turning red as the paint on my painting. “Your, you’re the artist right?” she asked, and I nodded confidently, as any prideful man would. “It’s beautiful, I’m so sorry,” she said. I didn’t understand what she meant by that, why was she sorry, and so I asked. “Well, I can tell you were hurt by something, that maybe you never got over it and that this one painting was your only way to vent,” she said,

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, out of everyone that came to see my painting that day, here it was this beautiful yet intellectual queen tell me something no one had ever told me, she understood me.  “The name’s Gale, pleasure to meet you Mr.…” Chase, call me Chase, I told her. I shook her hand firmly and for a moment due her seductive scent, I wanted to kiss all over her arm like Gomez would do to his wife Morticia.

But to make a long story short I ended up marrying this woman, we have three adorable children, and support each other with any dreams we have or on our way to accomplishing. And so it comes to find out that mom and dad were right—good guys eventually meet the good girls. But I know mom and dad are just happy that they have grandchildren now if anything. As for Matt and Kendra, I honestly don’t know what happened, certainly don’t care, but I hope they are doing better. I have my queen, I have a family, I have my dreams, what more could a good guy ask for, and so I thank you all for letting me vent to you on this day of celebration. As you all graduated today, let us all remember that life is short but we can still accomplish all that we want; you are all victorious on this day, you have fought your fears and all your tears away. To my beautiful wife Gale, I love you so much, and thank you for being the greatest blessing, accomplishment of my life.


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