I'm not my body, nor how I choose to destroy it

I grew up with the notion that the love of a good woman, a bottle of Scotch and a cadre of a few good fellas would get me through the coldest winter. But I've been loved by a few good women, and a few bad ones, I've drunk my way through an entire barrel of whiskey and lost and gained more friends than I have memories for and I still find myself shivering on even the hottest days. What works for the father won't always work for the son and that's a lesson I've been hard-pressed to learn. Even now, I sometimes spend my nights alone, consumed with the notion of what I "should" be doing, as opposed to simply doing something. So, I've decided just to "do".

I came to this conclusion as I sat across from a female friend of mine at breakfast and briefly I wondered what it'd be like to date her. I had ideas of salvation and I realized that the only person who can save me is myself and to drag another girl down with me with the hope that she can bring us both back, with me still one hand on the anchor, is incredibly unfair. I like drinking my whiskey, smoking my cigarettes. I'm not particularly adept at being single, but when I told Ashely I was destined to be a bad boyfriend for awhile, I think I was right. Why test it? I may be too smart and sensitive for the lifestyle I've been toeing but, until I dive in, I won't know. So, here's to commitment, of a sort.