Tag Archives: jonathan-manor

Do You Intend To Fall In Love With Every Woman

I could feel her heart beating, her eyes wrecked on exploring what might be.  I could feel myself subconsciously reaching for my phone, but didn’t.  I simply returned her gesture with a simple grin and started walking away.  With every step I felt the immense feeling of loss, roping me back to her just for one more bite.  But I couldn’t.

I’ve done this a hundred times, led someone on and left abruptly.  I do it all the time, sometimes uncontrollably, sometimes with very inappropriate intentions.  At some point I made an effort to not retrieve any woman’s contact information, no matter how big, bright, and beautiful the outlook for the future might’ve been.  It felt like throwing away the perfect sunset without taking a picture.  This was before Lenka.

I was training myself to be in control of my feelings.  It’s like self inflicting pain to learn that it won’t kill you.  I couldn’t have every woman.  I didn’t intend to fall in love with everyone, yet I was slowly realizing that I was.  Every number, every call, and every text message, turned into a fantasy display of anticipated future fireworks and long waltzes across days of could be would be love.  With every pink lipped, tiny outlined cheeked, woman, I found that my intentions were unrealistic.  I was setting myself up for failure, more importantly, my unhappiness.  It was sad.


When I was younger I ran cross country.  During my first year of running all I wanted to do was be the fastest freshmen, which meant I had to beat one person, Sheldon.  I went to lengths, most impossible feats, and at the end of the first race, I was ahead of him all the way to the end.  But I didn’t stop there, I wanted more.

I picked out members of my team, picked out people from other schools.  I was on a murderous rampage to be more capable than any one of my targets.  I was faster than anyone from the school next to us.  The next school next to that one took me awhile, but after a year, I topped everyone who was in my league.  I did this over and over again, and I was never satisfied.

My coaches would ask me, why do I run?  Why was I on the team?  What drove me?

I would answer:

“There’s no better feeling than knowing that I’m better than someone else.”
“I want to be the best.”
“It’s pride.”

The thoughts of inadequacy fueled my desire to train harder, to get up at 5am to run 9 more miles before school started, in addition to our regularly scheduled practices.  My thoughts of not being good enough became my perseverance.

My coaches and teammates told me I was running for all the wrong reasons.  That someday there won’t be people to beat, someday I’ll find myself defeated, someday I’ll grow old and start withering away and my hopes of beating my PR would peak, and I would plummet.  They told me, the only way to truly love something is to love every moment of it no matter what it curtails.

Why did they do it?

“Because I seriously love to run.”

. . . they would say.

If You Don’t Love Every Moment, You’re Just Lying To Yourself

I was never trying to impress my friends when I took down a woman’s number.  Their abilities to meet women weren’t exactly up to par.

I was never rating women on a scale of one to ten, measuring whether or not someone were to be deserving of me, as if I was the grand prize of some elimi-date.

However, my real intentions was to fall in love.  That maybe someday we could lay in bed for hours on end with no other intentions other than to be together forever on clouds of happily ever after.  That’s where I went wrong, that’s where I became needy.  And because of that, I was setting myself up to become more and more miserable.

A conversation with a stranger is just that, a conversation.  There shouldn’t be anticipation for wedding bells (here’s looking at my female viewers) or sex (men) but just the simple love for having a conversation filled with laughter and comfort.  If ever we find out that something just didn’t go in the direction in which we were hoping, we should never feel as if we’ve lost our future, but simply feel that we’ve gained the moment. As humans we tend to fantasize about the future becoming this mesmerizing unbelievable picture of happiness, and it’s unfortunate that every time we do that and lose that, we become devastated.  That’s unrealistic and unfair.

Don’t let the future scare you, keep trying.

Don’t skip off to the future just yet, right now is still waiting patiently for you to come back down.


How To Be the Most Attractive Guy At a Party and Still Stay In a Monogamous Relationship

I leaned against the refrigerator, my eyes staring at the center of the room.  The lights were off.  In the middle of the living room my friends danced in the dark on top of two wooden coffee tables. I was actually kind of jealous. The music bounced off the walls and everyone who surrounded me were lost in their movements, and I stood deafeningly still, statuesque even.  I would’ve been mistaken as any other guy, shy of his wits, afraid of women, and unable to open up.  I didn’t want to be that guy, the so called wall flower.  But, as I stood wondering inclusively, the truth was that that guy and I, were the exact same person.  Lost.

Ever since I could remember being social, I was always somewhat flirtatious.  My friends hated me for it.  More exact, my socially challenged friends hated me for it.  Just the way I presented myself openly, the updraft of comfort, the easily drawn out sexual undertones; my guy friends hated it, they would stand idly by watching me talk.  It wasn’t always like that.  There was a time where no one could get any two words out of me, much less a conversation.  However, once I was able to open up, laugh, and pry into a deeper meaning with most people I met, I found an inevitable charm.  Since then, I never looked back onto my more proper and less boisterous, silent ways.

I never thought having a girlfriend would change that.

Innocent touches, flirtatious spells, and confident glares across the room starts to become an addiction.  It’s as if everyone just started passing around dishes of your favorite slice of pie  to constantly remind you that you shouldn’t have any, or even be there.  I always thought my ability to talk to women carelessly was something of power.  It is, practically, something that most men want to have but somehow don’t understand.  It’s almost supernatural.  It leaves people thinking, “maybe he’s just born with it?”  It’s as if it’s that unrealistic.  However, it only takes standing in a room full of people to find out who you really are. Having a girlfriend in a crowded area leaves me being socially awkward, and, most tantalizingly, powerless.

By midnight, after taking several senseless laps around the party, I found myself rewiring my mindset, reflecting on who I am, and rebooting my happiness, thinking of ways to find a balance with my thoughts and trying to find a peace that I really needed.  I went over every way I use to meet women at parties. I needed a place where I could continue to be conscious of where I was, yet still continuing to stay morally obligated.  I wasn’t single, but I wasn’t a loser either.  I looked at my friends and felt a genuine honesty with myself. I started letting go of the idea that everything I did was to impress every woman that surrounded me.

Finally, I took my friend’s happy outstretched hand as I was lifted up onto the living room table.

As the party dissipated like a smokey substance released into the sky, I found myself sitting next to a girl who earlier was talking about linear algebraic equations. Nerds, I somehow always find myself next to them. We chatted lightly until she commented on my arms.

“I don’t like big arms, you’re muscly arms just make me want to vomit,” she said flirtatiously.

It lifted my spirits.  I pulled my arm through her hair and across her shoulders to give her a light hug.  She leaned her head in, moving her body closer into mine, her dark maroon colored hairs softly touching the skin on my neck.

“Sorry,” I said pulling my arm away from her, “You can’t do that, I have a girlfriend.”

I could feel her closeness turning into a nervous awkwardness as she lifted away from me.  She smiled politely.

“Oh,” she said, “I figured.”

Us Men, We Talk Too Much.

Jonathan: You’re a hottie!

Emily: I don’t know about that.

Jonathan: It’s not for you to know.  It’s for us men to talk about secretly forever until you whither away unappreciated. 


Happy Thanksgiving!

What do you want to do before you die? A Realistic Bucket List

I thought about a story that has to do with this topic.

It’s about two middle aged guys who are dying at the same time who meet up with each other in hopes to find people that understand what they’re going through. They go on to write a bucket list and go their separate ways. One guy goes and does all these incredible random things.  He travels to Cambodia, buys dessert in some obscure French restaurant, tries to break a Guiness world record and fails. He’s happy. He comes home and gets in touch with his friend and over some coffee asks him what he did.

He says that he went to see his neurotic father and stood there as he yelled at him and verbally abused him. He visited his mom across the country and sat there for a few weeks and all she could talk about was how much she hated his father and why she divorced him. He traveled to meet his brother and sister and all they told him was how much he was worthless and pathetic and never did anything with his life. No one knew he was dying.

The first guy asks the second guy why he did that, and he replies, “I did it because they’re my family, and I know they’re not perfect and they’ll never be perfect; I know that. But I only have one family. We spent so much time hurting each other that at the end of the day, the only thing we’d ever wish for, was one more day with family.”

The next day they get up early to see the sunrise on top of a hill. The second person, the one who saw his family, lays down and falls asleep. He never wakes up.

The last thing you see is the first person knocking at the front door of some random house. The door opens and he says, “Hey mom. . .”

Do You Want to Have Sex With Every Girl You’ve Ever Wanted? (with no attachments)

I dated a lot for the past 2 years. A lot. I really don’t want to go into detail. The boring, okay, somewhat exciting truth is that the whole time, I spent it looking for a girlfriend. I was looking for the right girl. A girl that didn’t leave me and a girl that I didn’t want to leave.

Having sex with multiple women seems cool if you’re a college idiot with hopes that your whole life could play out like some teenage American Pie sexual comedy. But it’s not. It’s really just stupid. It’s not real. It’s like collecting shiny rocks that aren’t worth anything.

For example: There’s no diamonds or rubies. You end up classifying every girl like every other rock you see in every other person’s front yard. There’s so many of them. You see them every day. Maybe this rock looks pointier, maybe this blonde has a skinnier face or a tighter butt. But they’re objects. You leave before you could get to know anything. There’s no emotion. It’s just a surface world where nothing’s real.

For some reason, a lot of people hate the idea of being vulnerable. It’s always power this, wanting that, paying the cheapest price to get to where you want. Those people make horrible novels. Terrible biographies. They go to China, Brazil, Italy, in search for destiny and they experience nothing. They go chasing after things because that’s all they know. They never know when to just stay. When to be happy. Or they somehow discover some obscure happiness after years of searching. However, they could’ve been happy this whole time just if they let themselves be happy.  Everything’s possible where you are!

Every girl that I was intimate with in my past I push back in my memory. And I’m pretty sure a lot of the women who broke me push me to the back of their minds too. However, the girl that you choose that wants to stay in bed for the next few months with you, grows with you, challenges you, makes you understand that you just don’t know everything.

Single and Awesome. It’s more like single and lost, looking for the next flavor, the next number, and the next shiny stone that would probably be worth a lot more to you if you just stopped looking for every other rock.

That’s my two cents. Do what makes you happy. . .