It is an unfortunate aspect of character that I should excel at the good first impression but falter in the maintenance of the allure.

Good to start, bad to finish.

Impotence is not quite the word.

Hell, hell, it’s no word. It’s this… change. It’s a reversal of roles. It’s aloof for a while and obsessed thereafter. It’s a fear of loss and a choking, obsessive hold.

It’s great in the short term. It’s always great for a while. I’m the lasting impression and what not to look for in the next man.

The something that is missing eludes me.

And, rather than fall into the weakness of an emotional breakdown, it’s the weakness of the cold shoulder. The weakness of obsession with work, with travel, with the next big thing. The next person for me to pick up and drop.

Blunt is the word. Blunt about everything after I’ve come off as a charmer. No energy for nonsense. No tolerance for the slightest hint of disinterest or wandering eyes.

It’s the thought of the man on his deathbed. It’s reflection and the possibility that I will regret.

It’s easy to break a man’s nose. Try it.

My anger is always with the situation.

(December is my least favorite of the months.)