Definitely not a Story of Love

He looked at her while she didn't even so much as give a glance.  Every day was the same story.  He had this misguided belief that if she would just look at him then he had a chance with her, but we all know that a look is just a look with little to no meaning more than that.

Still, his gaze didn't falter. 

He watched as she spoke to many other people, usually in a sarcastic manner to ensure everyone around her knew of her place in the societal hierarchy.  She knew she was better.  That just made him desire her even more.

There is always that point in time when a person comes face to face with what they believe they want only to discover just how wrong it is for them.  This story isn't about that, though it will definitely feel as though it falls along that line.

Our lonely hero decides one day that he will force her acknowledgment.  He bumps into her causing quite an awkward moment. 

"Why the fuck did you bump into me, asshole?"  Her voice is shrill and condescending.

"It was an accident."

"You gross mother fucker, just leave me alone." 

And just like that, our lonely hero felt completely crushed.  Their eyes met, at long last, and only for her to shut all his desires down.

Of course, that was a few decades ago.  Our lonely hero has had many failures within those fateful years - all of which contained fruitful nuggets of information he learned from.  His memory of youth was little more than memories of many mistakes, the likes of which he would never want to repeat.

Our antagonist, on the other hand, made but one mistake.  One mistake that she has had to live with ever since - marrying the first person who treated her like the condescending bitch she was and letting him make her into his submissive housewife, a mother to his obnoxious and bratty children.  Her memory of youth was full of fond memories, memories of dominance and being wildly desirable. 

Our lonely hero rarely ever thought about women who rejected him, especially the one who called him a gross mother fucker.  Meanwhile, she longed for someone to idolize her the way he did back in those long since passed days.

She knew he stared at her.  She knew him running into her was an attempt to gain her attention.  That just made her even more fierce, thinking that was the way to ensure he kept going the way he had for so long.

That didn't work, though.  The last day he ever looked at her with longing eyes was the day our lonely hero performed his little stunt for attention.  It was also the day, he would never find out, that she met the man that would transform her from the fierce bitch into the docile puppy.

The hero of this story learned, in no short part from his experience here, that the amount of effort one puts into winning someone over does not equal the amount of love a couple has for one another.  The antagonist learned what it was like to put forth all the effort and never learned that equality was far more a sign of love than effort.

The two would go on with their lives, never to meet again.  He traveled throughout the world, finding meaning in every little thing he did.  She stayed in their hometown convincing herself that her life had meaning.

-Dustin S. Stover

Happiness in a Void of Darkness is my collection of short stories and can be purchased at either of the links below.
Kindle
Nook

Humanitarians

We approached the big, brooding building.  It struck me the way an old plantation owner's house would strike a former slave, and perhaps that was the point.  No one buys a house like this without the intention of proving to those who gaze upon it that they are more important than everyone else around.

The giant white rectangle stretched three stories high and what felt like half a mile from one end to the other.    I'm not sure what I've done in my life to be affiliated with such people, but I find myself to be quite uncomfortable now.

The things we do for love, knowing it's futility and inevitable decline into the mundane, should always be a perplexing notion.  Here I am, though, walking towards the big double door entrance into a former slave owner's home.  A representation of every founding principle of a country that claims to have been for freedom.

The woman who answers the door, of course the mother of my fiancee, looks the part - a home maker wife of wealthy proportions with the most important decision of the day being what she will have sitting on the table when her all too wealthy husband gets home from fucking his mistress after a long day at work.  Or, perhaps, just the mistress's apartment he pays for.

Jamie never told me that this was the type of house she grew up in and, perhaps, that is why it bothers me so much now.  We met at a distribution of wealth protest on Wall Street.  Her and her well worn clothes and good weed, we spoke of how fucked up society was.  I was raised on the opposite side of the spectrum - getting a job at fifteen to help pay for rent and food for my siblings and mom, as her job didn't pay enough to support the rest of us.

That was years ago, though, and since then we've established a good routine of responsible adulting along with a healthy coping mechanism of occasional sex and limited communication, the way that married couples find themselves.

"Well good evening, Jamie.  I'm so glad you kids could make it for the weekend."  Jamie's mom gives her a hug and just peers at me while her head is behind Jamie's.

"It is good to see you, too, Mrs. Andrews."  Even the name sounds like she'd own slaves if she could.

The first thing I notice as we are walking through the massive, open entryway that stretches clear to the roof - balconies lining both sides with pillars supporting it all - is that there are women cleaning things.  Their french maid outfits look just innocent enough to be sexually submissive, but being fit upon black women seems quite an odd thing.  It isn't often, after all, that one sees African American women wearing french maid outfits in porn and where else does one see french maid outfits in today's society?

The deeper into this house I get, the more I feel like I am taking a trip back in time.

Jamie's attitude and demeanor instantly change with the scene.  Her flowing dress and unkempt hair now looking even more out of place on her body than I feel inside this building. 

One of the maids is sheltered off in one of the corners - a baby bump forming a relatively noticeable in the black and white dress she is wearing.  At least she isn't beaten for getting pregnant.

"Ah, kids.  Welcome, welcome.  Make yourselves at home.  I won't be long."  Jamie's dad, Roger, sits inside an office adorned by two big wooden framed glass doors, one of which is opened allowing the odor of cigar smoke to pour out of the room and into my nostrils.  Roger sits on a luxurious leather swiveling chair with a phone in his hand - an old phone that is still connected by chord to a box with physical numerical keys, hold and forward buttons.  I have no idea where he would forward a call to.

"The old fuck won't even know what hits him!" Roger's voice is boisterous and full of bravado, which leads directly into a cackling laughter before he says his good byes and hangs up the phone.

Out back there is a porch with an overhang and spacious seating.  It overlooks the yard which, in the distance, features a massive pond that is almost big enough to name.

"Do you have any new work coming in, poppa?"  Jamie says with a polite and subordinate tone.

"Oh, my little girl.  Don't you worry about me.  You know I'm always on top of the world."

"Oh, your dad, Jamie.  Never one to be humble, you know."

It is like I am sitting in some parallel dimension .

"Of course I have more work coming in!  The work comes to me!" 

The lemonade on the table seems more interesting than where this conversation is heading.

"What do you do for a living, sir?"

"Sir!  That's it, my boy.  I am a sir!"  Roger cackles with his boisterous laughter.  "I make deals, my boy.  I make deals happen.  What are your plans?"

"Me?  I was planning on starting a non-profit to help at risk children get off the streets and establish a new life."  Roger's boisterous laugh is more prevalent than the times before.

"Oh to be a youth again!  Wild dreams, wild dreams.  Let me tell you something, son.  You can't help other people.  You've only got to help yourself."

"You definitely help yourself a lot," Margaret, Jamie's mother, says under her breathe.  It is quickly ignored by everyone.

"Maybe, sir."

"Oh, daddy!  You have to show Kevin your collection!"  I swear that the Jamie I know was abducted once we got here and replaced with an identical copy.  The one I know would have scoffed at the idea of collections.

Roger leads me back through the massive open hallway and down into the cellar.  "This, my boy, is worth more than what most people will make in a year."  He pulls out a vintage wine bottle as I am noticing that the collection he is so proud of is a wine collection.  He holds out a bottle of unopened wine with what looks to me to just be old, but I'm sure he is right. 

"Wow, sir." 

And on it goes, Roger pulling bottle after bottle and telling me information that easily slips in one ear and out the other.  "This really is a remarkable collection you've got yourself here."  Maybe an hour has passed, or more, when I finally tell him we should get back to the girls.

"You go ahead, my boy.  I will be back up in a few minutes.  I've got to use the bathroom."

"Are you sure it is his?" Jamie's voice is weak in the distance, but still understandable.

"Yes."

"Hey, ladies.  That was quite a collection your father has, Jamie."

"Yeah, he has been collecting those since before I was born."

"Let me show you kids to your bedroom."  It comes as almost a shock that they wouldn't be forcing us to stay in separate bedrooms, but then again it is two-thousand and eighteen.

"What were you and your mom talking about?"

"Oh nothing, Kevin.  Nothing you need to worry about."

"I am going to go for a walk."  Jamie nods in agreement and gives her approval, but stays behind.

As I'm walking around the giant pond I am contemplating how easy it would be to get into the car and drive off.  The only things I've unpacked have been my toothbrush, soap and shampoo.  I wouldn't even need to grab those things they are so cheap.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir."  I was so lost in my own thought that I hadn't even noticed I had stumbled into someone else's thinking spot.  It was the woman with the baby bump.

"No, no.  I'm sorry.  I didn't realize anyone else was out here.  What are you doing out here?" 

She peers into the water without a response, but she had to have heard me.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?"  Her hand gestures to the spot close to her.  I notice that this particular spot is shrouded in shrubbery to be unseeable from the house.  "Are you out here hiding?"

"No sir."  Her voice frail and fickle.  The lie is as clearly read as a children's book.  "What would you do if you got someone pregnant and you didn't want to keep it?"

"I mean, I would talk it out with the girl I got pregnant.  If she decided to keep it then I would do everything I could to be as best a father as I could be.  The act of creating the child would be equal part mine as her's and it isn't her choice to be born as the one who would carry the baby for 9 months like it wasn't my choice to be the one who doesn't."

Her eyes squeeze so tight that her face shrinks before a drop of water falls down her cheek.  The drop turns into a full stream as her body bobs as she is gasping for air.

"What if... what if she decided to have an abortion without... without you?"

I tilt my head back to the sky and take a deep breathe.  "Ultimately, I would hope I'd be a consideration in that whole ordeal.  I would really hope, but ultimately..."  A let out a sigh.  "Ultimately, it is her body."

"He says he will have me killed if I don't have an abortion."  Her voice is less frantic as her tears and gasping for air slow. 

"Is it your boyfriend?"

Her eyes squeeze tight like before.  "No, sir."

"Please don't call me sir.  We're all equals here.  Sir is just a bullshit word to make someone feel more important than others.  Even calling Jamie's dad 'sir' is my little way of mocking his smug ass."

She chuckles between gasps.  "It's his."

"His?"  I turn my head to face her.  Her face still pointed to the water, eyes closed with tears still flowing.  "Roger's?"

"Yes.  He rapes me.  Now he is threatening to have me killed if I don't abort his baby."

There's nothing I can say.  There's nothing I can do, but I know I have to try.  I put my arm around her and pull her close to me.  "I'm so sorry."

We sat there like that, not saying anything, for long enough for me to feel like someone was going to start looking for me soon.  "I know there is nothing I can do about this situation.  I am just so, so terribly sorry."

Jamie lays sleeping on the bed, but I shake her awake.  "Jamie.  Your dad.  She got one of the maids pregnant."

"He does that."

"What do you mean he does that?"

"She isn't the first one.  She won't be the last one.  Why do you think they all walk around wearing those outfits?  You think my mom wants to see short skirted black women running around the house?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Look, this isn't any of your business.  This is my house."

I look at my suitcase, still packed and ready to go.  I get my keys and grab the suitcase and begin walking out.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" 

"I'm going home.  I'm going home and I'm packing up all of the shit you have there.  You're not the girl I thought you were."

"Kevin, what the fuck?"

"Jamie.  The woman I fell in love with was someone who believed in equality.  Someone who believed that no matter what your social status was financially, you should always be regarded first and foremost as a human being.  Your dad raped a woman, got her pregnant, and now you're defending his actions by telling me that this is your house.  If you can't see the irony in that..."

"Any woman who takes the job here knows what it involves.  She should have been on birth control.  She is just trying to take my daddy's money."

"Fuck this."  I close the door behind me, but it wouldn't have mattered either way as Jamie was clearly not following me. 

As I approach the car I remember what started the whole argument in the first place.  I remember the look in that woman's face as it shrunk and began to cry.  I remember holding her in my arms and why my shoulder is still soaked.  I shove my bag into the car and run back to the spot I found her at as quickly as I can, using the light from my cell phone to guide me.  Not even a candle lights up anything inside the house.  The light from Jamie's bedroom is still as dark as it was when I walked out. 

I arrive, but no one is there.  Nothing, not even a trace.  I think about how it is perhaps the wrong place, but no, this place is shrouded from the house.  Nothing remains here.  I look all around for any signs of human life, but it is too dark and too late to find anyone.

Defeated, I turn and make my way back to the car, quickly, but no longer as fast as before.  Once at the car, I open the door but before I can get in I hear something faint. 

"Take me."

I look around, but it is no use.  It is still too dark and the light from the car door isn't illuminating enough. 

She crawls out of the woods beside the car, the woman from the pond still wearing that ridiculous maid outfit. 

"Get in.  Get clothes from the suitcase and change out of that bullshit if you want."

She slides into the back seat of the car as I start the car and drive off.  Her head rests upon the suitcase, her eyes closed, and her body looking at peace - a peace like she has never known before.

-Dustin S. Stover

All Encompassing Madness

"How does that make you feel?"

Well, how the fuck is it supposed to make me feel, doc.  I come to you for answers, not to question my motives.  Psychologists are such bullshit.  Give me the hard sciences, not someone to talk to me until I feel like crying enough to flood the Earth in some biblical, forty-days and forty-nights nonsensical way.

Fuck you, doc.  The shit happened and now it doesn't matter how I feel about it.  It doesn't fucking matter how I feel about it because I have to wake up tomorrow morning and go into work like every other damn day of my life.  I have to put food on the table at the end of the day.  I have to pay the light bill.  I have to do the same shit as everyone else.  How do I feel?  I feel like I need a mother fucking break from life.

"Norm, are you going to answer?"

"I'm figuring it out."

You condescending piece of shit.  You sit there in that chair and you ask me these simplistic answers, attempting to get me to dig deep for some answers through equally simplistic responses.  I know what you're doing, but again, it doesn't matter.

I  had damned dreams.  I had goals for my fucking life before shit hit the fan.  I wanted to make something out of my life and now I just wake up and feel like grabbing the fucking bottle.  

"It is odd, Dr. Shrellin.  I just don't know how life got to this point."

"Norm, I've told you before.  Just call me Alice.  I'm your friend, but let's talk about what choices you made to get here."

You're not a fucking friend.  A friend is someone you meet at a bar, someone you have common interests in, Alice.  I have been forced to come see you as my therapist.  Someone who I pretend isn't just as fucked up as I am.  But I know, Alice.  I know you hit that bottle like there's no tomorrow once you're done with your work day.  You've probably got escorts on speed dial, or hiding some inner lesbian cuckhold fantasy.  You probably have to smoke a thousand dollars worth of weed a week just so you don't get so pissed off you slam someone's head against a wall.

How I got here, though?  How I got here was fucking simple - I made choices.  I made the choice to drop what I wanted out of life because I played the safe bets and found excitement in the wrong places.  Well, all bets fail sooner or later.  That's how I got here.  Living with the failure of those bets, how the fuck do I deal with that, Alice?

"I'm not sure, doctor.  I mean, I kind of just floated along the river of life and now I'm waking up to where I've floated to."

Where I've floated to?  What the fuck am I even saying now?  I sound like some children's after school special.  What I've done is taken unfulfilling jobs because it is a paycheck, dated shitbags because they offered excitement in my life, and been completely unable to find a balance between those things and my goals.  That's what the fuck I've done, Alice.  And now I'm stuck being hyper-aware of my situation in life.

"So what do you plan on doing now?"

So yeah, after my wife left me for the younger, more exciting artist, that mother fucker, I went off on my boss.  Sure, maybe I even threw the phone book at the wall, conveniently placed behind his head.  Yeah, I probably caused a scene when I got up out of my chair and yelled the word fuck at the top of my lungs, which led me to the office and phone book in the first place.  Can you blame me?  I mean, really?

"I don't know, doctor."

"Well, how does all this make you feel, Norm?"

Again with this fucking question, Alice?  Can't you reword it with your fancy ass degree?  Can't you make it seem more interesting?  Can't you do something other than just fucking ask a question?

"Mad.  I feel mad."

-Dustin S. Stover

If you find my writing interesting and desire more of it then please support me by purchasing my collection of short stories on Kindle or Nook.

Just Another Day at the Office

Susan, like always, beat me to the office.  It never seems to bother her that she beats the boss every day.  She deserves a raise.

I settle down in my chair after grabbing my cup of coffee from the break room, of course started by Susan as soon as she got in, and just enjoy the aroma.  Then, it happens, the real start of my day.

"..That's when I found out she had been cheating on me.  It was with an old coworker.  Apparently they had been... screwing.. God, just thinking about it makes me want to vomit... they had been doing it since I worked with him.  That was twelve years ago.  Twelve years of the two of them fucking... The two of them doing it behind my back... like... how did I not know?  How?  Just... I don't know how I was so stupid...."

"Before I got busted with all that coke, I mean, I was on my way up to being a big time executive.  Who gives a fuck if I was snorting coke like it was candy.  I mean, who gives a fuck?  I was fucking productive, man.  I tell you, I could work circles around every other fucking clown in that office, but no... no, I get fired.  I get fired because they found some white powder in my office.  Fuck them, man.  Fuck them in their assholes."

"I don't really know how to say it... I mean, I know he and I had an agreement.  I know we were supposed to do it together, but... I just couldn't... and I just... watched.  I didn't know what else to do.  I just watched, and cried.  I don't know what is worse, that it was the first time I saw a boy touch himself and it brought me to tears or if it seemed to make him more excited... Am I always going to cry when I see a guy touch themselves?  Do you think I'm a lesbian?"

I go into the break room for a refill on my cup of coffee, but I notice the back door is propped open by a little block of wood.  I walk to the door, open it, and find Susan taking a puff of a cigarette.

"Mind if I take a drag of that, Susie?"

"I didn't know you smoked."

"Yeah... You're right.  I guess today wouldn't be a good day to start, either."  I used my foot to put the block of wood back against the door frame before gently resting the door against it.

"My wife tells me I just make bad choices.  I mean, no fucking way, right?  It isn't my fault if I blow ten grand at the poker table. I mean, fuck, I could be on a winning streak and then, bam, wrong bet.  Shit, that's all down to luck.  It isn't a bad choice, it just means my lucky day hasn't struck yet."

"He touched me in my private parts.  That's what mommy told me to tell the police officer.  That's what I told the police officer."

"I blame it all on my mom.  She is the one who didn't teach me how hard life would be.  She let me have my favorite blankie in bed with me until I was 12!  It is her fault!  It is all her fault!"

"...I don't really know how to come to terms with it.  Every time I close my eyes, I see his hands wrapped so tightly around my wrists that my hands are going numb.  I can see outside my body, and I see my mouth screaming, but no sound is coming out.  I see his grin as he... I just..."

"Look, doc.  Are you a Doctor?  Did you earn that PhD?  Look, I don't belong here.  I don't have a problem.  It is just the fucking courts.  They ordered this shit.  If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"I just pray every day and hope things get better, but nothing is changing.  My prayers just aren't getting answered, but maybe that just means that God's plan for me is to suffer like this.  Maybe God just wants me to suffer for all the sins I've committed in the past.  Maybe that is why he isn't answering my prayers."

"I bet you just doodle all day long in that notebook of yours.  Seeing patients day in and day out, have that little notepad out pretending to be jotting down bullshit about your patients."

As they say this, I am just doodling.  It is the fifteenth time this patient has been in here and it is the fifteenth hour he has spent accusing me of doodling in my notebook.  It is now the eighth time I've actually doodled in my notebook.

"I... I know I am so quiet.... my wife tells me all the time that I need to talk to her, just talk... but... I don't even like to order food at the fast food drive through.  She says that our sex life is boring and she wants to spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie.  I don't know how to tell her that I want to be the one wearing it...."

"Well, that ends our session.  If you see Susan at the.."

"Yeah, yeah.  I fucking know.  Susan.  Front counter.  Next appointment."

I close my notebook.

"Have a good day."

I pour out the remaining bit of coffee into the break room's sink, watch the black liquid form a small puddle near the drain, refusing to join the rest, and then twist the knob to force the water to wash the puddle away.

Just another day at the office.





Written by Dustin S. Stover

So, This is How Stories get Made

For some of us, the darkness of night falls and we get lost.  We become terrified of the things in which we cannot see, the things we must see within ourselves, and especially the things we hear that we'd otherwise be too distracted to notice any other time.

This is what it is like when we first begin to research ourselves.  You know that fear of the doctor the very first time you get tested for sexually transmitted infections?  That's what it feels like every day you decide to introspectively look into yourself, as if what you will find out is something you never wanted to know.

I suppose, then, that is why so few people ever actually take the time in doing so.  It is far easier to go the rest of your life without that dreaded doctor's visit, but the only way to know for certain that you're not contaminating someone else is to either not have sex at all or go for the check up.

Sure, having that cotton swab shoved down your dick hole hurts the first couple times, but you probably thought that it was just going to be a matter of shooting your piss into a cup anyway.  And yeah, while you're looking back on all those slutty fun times you had you are probably sweating bullets - that one time the condom ripped, the girl's name you forgot to get because you were too drunk to care and the headache you had upon waking up to her naked body didn't invoke the kind of emotions that rendered those words upon the tongue.  Maybe she had already escaped out the door before you awake to the blade of the sun in your eyes.

Coming out of the other side to find out that you're clean, though, proves that those experiences are stories worthy of the scar from where that one girl stabbed you in the side because she thought you were kinkier than you really were, and of course you went with it all because she was climaxing a great deal more than you thought she was capable of, just like how the knife went a bit deeper than she anticipated.  Still, the scar is a permanent visual tell of a tale worth telling - at least to those worth telling it to.

Realizing that it all interlinks is the first step, of course.  It could happen at your favorite restaurant.  Maybe it is your favorite restaurant because it became your escape from the passing of a family member that particularly struck a deep and sensitive kind of pain, and it was the first experience with such things.  One minute you're tasting the delights of some oriental food, the next your sifting through the darkness of your mind to remember, oh yes, the whole reason you stepped foot into this place is because your sister passed away from a car accident.  You had no taste for Chinese food before that, but it was different, looked quiet, and was secluded away from everyone you knew who would be talking to you about it to look like the perfect place.  Without a care of the wasted money spent, you ordered a random menu item and now, years later, you've come to love the place as a kind of extra appendage that has become more functional than the originals.

It is terrifying to see those connections, though.  They can paint the ugliest of pictures.  Perhaps they paint the most beautiful, but we seldom know until we roll up our sleeves and trudge through the dark, scary, mucky swamp of why we are the way we are.  It can, for some pretty obvious reasons, lead to a craze, but to put it into perspective, how is it any crazier than spending a hundred dollars on a pair of pants simply because a law states that we need clothes in order to be decent and you've decided that spending extra money on something to cover your legs, ass and genitals makes you somehow different than a person who spends twenty on something that, inherently, does the same thing.

-Dustin S. Stover

Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness
Nook:   Happiness in a Void of Darkness

Displaying Love Accordingly

How does a couple overcome differences in showing love?

For the sake of saving time, I won't go into detail about the languages of love - for more research in the area do a quick google search of the five languages of love.  It is pretty self explanatory.

So what happens when the two people in a relationship have different languages they speak?  First, of course, is that if you display love by giving gifts and your spouse needs physical touch as their form of love then the spouse may well not ever feel that you don't display that you love them.  It could even push the loved one so far as to feel unloved.

The easiest way to bridge this gap is to, of course, listen - the most vital part of a relationship is communication, the two way communication - but listening isn't enough as it also requires action to change the way you display your love.

This brings about an important question - why shouldn't the loved one change the way they feel loved.  After all, if you're buying gifts for them then it is their responsibility to understand that is how you show you love them.

But, by default, love is to appreciate the other person as much as, or more, than yourself.  Therefore, in order to show that kind of respect and appreciation it is the one displaying the love's responsibility to ensure that the loved one feels loved.

Of course this goes deep because sometimes it is so against our nature.  Maybe you struggle being physical and that is the way your loved one desires to be shown love.  Maybe you can't afford that beautiful necklace, but that is what she wants.

As with all things worth doing, they are worth putting in an effort for.  A lot of this - financial situations aside - just requires thought and consideration before making an action.  Ask yourself before making the action, "what would my loved one want?"  "would they prefer this fancy meal or would they rather take a long walk holding hands under the stars?"

This obviously has to work on a two way street, as well.  What good is a relationship where only one person is displaying the love?

-Dustin S. Stover

Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness
Nook:   Happiness in a Void of Darkness

Compromise

I've been told my countless people, and even believed myself, that compromise was the most necessary part of a relationship - well, that and communication.  What if, however, that is wrong?

I am going to step away from relationships and go to work for a moment.  We all work and we all do things in our job that compromise our work, whether it be wearing personal protective equipment that we find to be unnecessary and make our jobs variably more difficult or if it is forcing us to work a schedule that conflicts with our natural sleep cycle.  We can all relate to that feeling of compromise for a paycheck.

The problem with compromising for a paycheck is that it almost exclusively leads to resentment for the work we do.  Maybe you love everything about your job other than that one person you have to work with every Wednesday - you're going to hate going into work every Wednesday.

How does this relate back to relationships?  Well, it is quite simple.  In order for the vast majority of us to alleviate that feeling of loneliness by being with someone else, we must compromise.  Sometimes it is something minor like not going to that one restaurant you love because your spouse hates it.  Maybe it is something more major like being forced to give up your favorite hobby.  Anyway you look at this, it has a similar affect as those compromises for a paycheck.

In order for us to get laid we have to compromise with the one we love, but is that really the best solution?

One day is going to come when you're, again, going to that horrible Chinese restaurant - you hate Chinese in this case - to please your spouse once again and all you can think is, "why the fuck am I always giving up going to that Italian restaurant so they can have their Chinese.  I mean, I'm going to have the shits tomorrow and the worst that will happen to them at the Italian restaurant is they dislike their food as much as I'm going to dislike mine tonight.  How can they not see my sacrifice?"

An easy remedy for this goes back to something I touched upon at the beginning of this blog - communication.  Talk it out and hopefully a resolution can be had, but what if it can't?  For this mental exercise we will assume talking has already happened and nothing has changed.

See, at this point every reader is thinking, "I KNOW!  RIGHT!  I HATE that Chinese place!"  Or just pretend you're saying that.

By the time the dinner is over, even if you don't notice it, your mood towards your loved one has grown more distant.  Hardly the healthy outcome.  Maybe it is such a small disconnect that you two still go home and practice your sexual fantasies on one another, or maybe when they roll over and try to put you in the mood - possibly even as a thank you for appreciating them for that horrendous Chinese food - you simply can't partake.  "Not tonight, honey.  I've got a headache," you'll say before rolling over and focusing on just how much you hate Chinese food as your stomach is growling with even more discontent than your brain is telling you to feel.

There is a multitude of compromises made every day in a relationship from small to large, but perhaps the easiest solution for the atrocious Chinese food is for you both to go to different restaurants and take it home to eat together at the kitchen table.  Bam, no compromises made and everyone goes to bed with a happy tummy.

Other situations are not nearly as simplistic.  I will take on the hobby aspect of this.  Maybe you love wood working, but your love hates the smell and is a much more modern house decorator.  The chairs you've made throughout your life, the desks, coffee table, and tv stand all need to be thrown out and sold because, well, your love hates them and wants that smooth black and metal finished product to match the robot feel of the living room and kitchen.

This can obviously upset even the most stable of people.  You can try talking this one out, maybe you take one room and decorate it with your hard work, maybe you take the whole house and they hate it, or you sell all your hard work on craigslist for pennies on the time you spent making it and you get sent into a deep, dark depression feeling like the things you value most in life are meaningless to the one you love.

Any of the options above are a really tough spot to be in since it will most certainly render a split in the two involved.  Suddenly it becomes a matter of forcing things that should never be forced.  Perhaps, then, the better option is to just find someone who appreciates the time and effort you put into it - maybe that is one of the things they even love about you and they wish to become very active in creating those amazing pieces of art.

Maybe the two of you can outgrow that outdated wood look and move into modern sculpturing to decorate your living quarters.

Compromise is a very tricky thing in a relationship.  Once you start compromise it is very hard to see where it will end.  A little bit here and there is alright, but when does too much become a breaking point and can no longer bridge that gap?  That, my dear reader, is up to you to decide.

-Dustin S. Stover

As always, you can find my collection of short stories for sale on Kindle and Nook at the following links:

Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness
Nook:   Happiness in a Void of Darkness

What People Need in a Relationship

I recently read an article about what women need in a relationship. It got me thinking that men are equally needy in a relationship but those needs get overlooked. Beyond men being equally needy, men and women often times need the same things.

After reading the article I posted a link to a social media site which got a few comments. I noticed that the comments all repeated a similar statement – men just need food, beer and sex. I happen to know this is false because I'm a man and don't drink alcohol at all.

I have compiled a list of things below that are universally needed in a relationship with some male only needs for good measure.

A person in a relationship needs to know you love him. It goes beyond just saying the words, too. Show them you love them and they will return that sentiment.

People need active support in his decisions. Anyone can say, “yeah, honey, I think it is a good idea. You should do it.” It takes a different kind of person to help the loved one figure out payroll in their new found company.

Space. Too much space is as damaging to a relationship as too little space and every person in the world requires their own amount of space.

They want to be understood. You don't have to know exactly what to say in any given situation, but they want you to have some degree of understanding where they are coming from at any time. You may not understand their excitement over a new pair of shoes or a pool table, but you should know that they will react that way when they get it.

People want to feel special. Why do you love the other person? There are millions of reasons why someone can fall in love with another person, but why do you love the other person? Once you've figured that out then learn to express it. Is it their intelligence? Do they make you feel safe? Can you open up to them entirely? Let them know.

Everyone wants to feel sexually desired. The way someone wants to feel sexually desired is as individual as the person, but everyone wants that feeling. Whether it is through raw lust, intimate passion, dominated or subordinate. The moment the other person stops feeling sexually desired then the sex life diminishes.

We all want our pasts to be accepted. We made mistakes, and every one of us are a work in progress in some way. It is the human way to evolve our personalities throughout our life and in order to do that we must make mistakes along the way. Some will be a doozy, some will be shrugged off as though they don't matter, and others really won't matter but we all want the other person to understand that we're not there any more.

Last, we all want a future with the one we love. I do not know of anyone who gets into a relationship and thinks, “this is it. My life can end tomorrow and it is perfect.” We all want to experience that future with the loved one otherwise we wouldn't be in the relationship. That means growing together through experiences. When the experiences stop then the life with that person becomes dull. Everyone needs a different amount of experiences as well, so again this all falls back on understanding your partner.

Lastly, and this goes primarily for men, we need bacon. Bacon is great. Men love bacon and always appreciate it when a woman makes us some.

A Short Story Dedicated to Someone Nice

I shrug my shoulders at the end of yet another date.  A meaningless, trivial date that goes nowhere in a hurry and finds itself sitting at that place of nonexistence yet trying to force something to grow.

She looks at me and asks me how I feel about the weather.  I look at her and tell her it is hot, sweltering, and close enough to Hell that it would easily be mistaken.  We both laugh as she agrees, but the conversation, again, falls flat.

And at the end of the night we go our separate ways.  We parked near one another so we did an awkward walk in silence in similar directions until we end the short stroll by saying it was fun - it wasn't - and that we should do it again - we won't, but we agree upon it anyway.

Once I sit in my car, the sound of John Zorn's barely considered music playing in the background, I let out a sigh and think about how, yet again, I've led another friend to their perfect match.  Yet, of course, I can't find anyone that sits well with me.

I suppose at this time I should reflect back a bit into my past.  See, I moved to this suck fest of a town a few years back.  Desperately searching for a place through various shady websites, I finally met someone who didn't creep me out.  The room mates name - Peter.  Well, it was Pete, but he introduced himself as Peter at first.

Pete was the type of guy who had a genuine heart but couldn't really express himself effectively enough to win someone over well enough for a second date, but there was a girl I worked with that had a bit of an awkwardness to her.  After schmoozing it up a bit during the work shift, months of schmoozing, it dawned on me that Pete and the coworker - Ashley - had a lot in common.  

I asked Pete how he felt about throwing a bit of a house party and he got excited to bust out some old board games he had never gotten a chance to play.  I asked some coworkers.  He asked some friends.  It turned out to be quite the event - that's a total lie, actually.  It was five people sitting around a house, casually drinking beers and trying best to make conversation even though we had nothing really in common other than work.

Well, except Ashley and Pete.  They spent the entire night talking.  In fact, she ended up spending the night on the couch that night because once their conversation ended she was too tired to drive home.  

When the lease for that house ended, Ashley and Pete got their own place and back to the shady internet I went.

I had a string of bad experiences.  A room mate who decided that three a.m. was the perfect time to clean house using, I'm fairly certain, a sledgehammer and chainsaw.  I lasted a couple weeks before I found myself in another house.  The second place was listed as a straight laced, no frills kind of house.  What I got was a complete stoner who always had company.  It was a good thing my job didn't do random piss tests as I'd have failed by second hand inhalation alone.  I lasted a little bit longer by staying for a couple days more than a month.

Then I found myself roomed up with a girl.  I'm not going to lie, she was quite attractive.  I was afraid initially that I was going to make some kind of move on her and ruin everything but we soon discovered that we didn't care at all for one another romantically.  Something about our personalities didn't mesh that way, but we became good friends.  

Jamie was her name.  She became a sister to me, but when I moved in she had just went through a pretty rough break up.  She was engaged to a guy for almost a year, and dated for four years prior to that.  Typical story of walking in on him with her best friend.  Well, not so typical considering it was actually her mom and not best friend.  And her dad was watching.  Talk about weird stories.

Jamie went up and down with it.  Not only did she lose her lover, she cut her folks out of the picture, too.  

As she was getting emotionally stable again, however, I found myself introducing her to a guy I was trying to start a band with.  Tommy.  

Now, Tommy is a guy that when you look at him all that you can think is tattooed freak.  Piercings, tattoos, scruffy beard, long hair.  Jamie, on the other hand, was an understated kind of beauty.  No tattoos, no piercings, raised relatively conservative - probably why we'd have never worked out - and someone you'd never peg to be into a rock star.

It happened, though.  To be fair, Tommy is one of the nicest guys in the world.  The band didn't work out - all because of my lack of motivation - but Jamie and Tommy sure as hell did.  They are married and just adopted their second dog.  They also just bought their own place, which means I'm back out.  She still doesn't have any tattoos or piercings, though.

I've had my fair share of dates throughout that time - even had a bit of sex, too.  None of them stuck, though.  A crazy girl who, on a first date no less, asked me how I felt about knives being used during sex.  Another girl fell asleep while we were on a coffee date.  One girl lacked the intelligence to hold a conversation about anything deeper than the latest chick flick she watched.  

I finally met one I could talk to, hold conversation with.  Actually, it filled me with hope for the first time in years.  Then I found out she was married.

The sex that came and went was only ever so-so, but that is because, as everyone should know, great sex comes from emotions and comfort.  That's something that no amount of talent can replace.

And now here I find myself, once again, ending a date with a someone, while I'm sure is a perfectly good person, I have no connection with. 

I start the move in process for my new place tomorrow.  Another single room mate.  Another match made in heaven coming up.  It just won't be mine.

-Dustin S. Stover

For my collection of short stories, click below.

Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness

Nook: Happiness in a Void of Darkness

The Glue that Binds

I've seen a great deal more relationships than I could ever count.  We all have, really.  Whether it be the beginning of a relationship where a couple holds hands across the table or does that overly annoying sitting on the same side of the booth nonsense or it being the couple that has clearly been together for so long that they don't even care to make eye contact while they eat.

What, then, can make two people stay together?

I've put quite a lot of thought process into this question and I've boiled it down to two very distinct things - dependency and connection.  They aren't mutually exclusive, and most of the time a couple doesn't need but one.

As an example, I've seen relationships that the two fight incessantly, have no positive communication skills at all, don't even share the same interests, yet they stay together.  I've been close to couples like this, close enough to hear both sides of their stories and gotten quite a good feel as to why each one stays.  From this, the central point is that they depend on one another.  Sometimes that dependency comes from emotional security - knowing someone will be there.  Other times it comes from financial dependency - life is expensive for a huge portion of people.

Obviously this comes with an inherent grouping of problems.

The connection side of things, those long conversations about nothing and everything all at once.  The little experiences, like that hole in the wall restaurant, becoming some grand story symbolic of the love for one another, and all of those other small details that grow into massive lumps of butterflies in the stomach form into the connection we all crave.

That one sounds like the obvious winner of the competition of gluing, but is it?

Now, let me dive into exploring the consequences of each.

In the dependency corner, it can give one person more of an edge than the other - especially if one person is dependent on the other for tangibles.  The person in control of the commodities will gravitate towards feeling as though they are the more important role in the relationship, naturally.  It then becomes increasingly important for that person to become aware that they are choosing to stay in the relationship for a reason - they, too, are dependent on that other person.

Exploring the emotional dependency, then, we find that it becomes much the same power struggle.  For simplicity's sake, let's say a female becomes emotionally dependent on a male.  The male, at this point, can use that power to degrade the self esteem of the other person, to the point that it then becomes a feeling that they not only want the emotional support but feel they can't get it elsewhere, either.

The connection corner comes it with some pretty severe consequences as well.  For one, it can become quite addictive, yet when that entry level connection wears off and the day to day life starts reducing those hole in the wall restaurants to a simple meal it becomes easy to translate that to losing interest in the other person.

There is also the downside of, if the relationship ends, having to go back to those places and remembering the events that transpired - I still can't go to one of the coffee shops I used to frequent without being reminded of that fireplace lit conversation, just the two of us sitting there and the owner dimming the lights, making it look closed for all but us.

Anyway, communication is the real problem solver here.  It is equally important for all parties to know why the two of you (or three, or four, or more in some cases) stay together.  Not always will someone like to hear it.  It will always open the door to real conversation about things, though.

-Dustin S. Stover

What Should We Focus on for Love?

As an individual, we're all lonely. We all seek out these deeply profound connections to other living beings in an effort to fill this gaping hole that can only exist in our minds. We pass people on the road, we pass people walking through the mall or store, we stand behind people in line at the restaurant, and yet we always have this longing for something more.

In theory, every lover should start as a friend but we all know that rarely happens. Boy sees girl, boy asks girl out on a date, then another date if the first goes well, and it is all with the intention of getting to a point of togetherness that extends well beyond a mere friendship and it all bases itself purely in a sense that the two people's attraction to one another was, essentially, enough to judge how lasting a relationship might be. (This is obviously a generalization and strictly being utilized to make a point – situations may vary.)

That is, primarily, a perfect depiction as to how desperate humanity is to fill the space next to the individual.

Even in situations where the two people desire a slower pace to get to know one another, that physical attraction can be alarmingly hard to deny, which can, in turn, spiral the entire process of getting to know another out of control. Before the two know it, a type of dependent relationship has been formed and the two individuals may not even be able to tolerate one another.

And still, it is just to occupy the innate emotion of loneliness – filling an imaginary gap in one's life. Looking at the dating world from this perspective, it is no wonder why so many marriages end in divorce, but how can we prevent it? Is it just the way humans are wired emotionally, latching onto narrow threads of emotional hope in an effort to justify time spent?

The opposite side of the spectrum isn't really any better - the non-committal side of the equation, casual and meaningless everything with casual encounters.  Sometimes they're lined up through the shady, back ended areas of the internet like Craigslist Personals and other times finding the one at the bar who is at just the right level of intoxication to drop their inhibitions for a night of adult fun, only to wake the next day and wonder why they made the choice to not use a rubber with someone they can barely remember the name of – was it Jamie or Jenny?

Both sides of this equation are trying to solve the same problem, despite their deeply different means of going about doing so, and yet both fail miserably. Why is this?

The answer is quite simple – no one ever really gets to know the other person before developing emotions. Better yet, how many people truly know themselves well enough to concern themselves with who someone else is? I get it, it is hard working full time, paying bills, trying to socialize with people you tolerate and sometimes enjoy, making dinner, cleaning the house, trying to find a hobby that gives you a reason to wake up the following day and do it all over again, and trying to find a love interest. It leaves little room to do the, perhaps, hardest things in the world – analyze yourself enough to fully understand who you are.

I'm not talking about the, “I know who I am because I enjoy the job I do and I have kids to take care of,” knowing, either. I'm talking about the kind of knowing in which there is full understanding of how you'd react in a situation never encountered before due to being able to visualize the emotions it would provoke inside. I'm talking about having such a deep understanding of yourself that you can sit in a room alone and think about where the emotions you are encumbered by stem from, and have the ability to work your way through it all to readily accept things as they truly are – not sugar coating them in a way that makes you feel better about them. I'm talking about the ability to call yourself out on how much of a bullshitter you truly are, not cover up lies with more lies because those lies you've told yourself to hide from the truth prevent you from seeing where the truth even began at.

There are few things in this world more painful than someone else seeing you for your true self when you can't. How much lonelier does it get to lie next to someone who sees your strengths and weaknesses when you've made up strengths to hide the fact that you have weaknesses? And really, who wants to be with someone who refuses to grow beyond where they are at in that stage of their life?

I firmly believe that the central point of every healthy relationship revolves around that one simple thing – knowing yourself, both people (or in some cases, three or four people – I'm not here to judge) involved in the relationship knowing themselves. If you can't maintain a realistic perspective of yourself then how can you have a realistic perspective of someone else, and if you can't have a realistic perspective of the person (or people) you're with then how can you ever hope to have a healthy relationship?

Anyway, let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

-Dustin S. Stover

For short stories written by me, follow the links below.

Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness

Nook: Happiness in a Void of Darkness

The Dilemmas of Love and Lust

Love and lust hold so many similarities and yet maintain very distinct differences.  The similarities make them very easily blurred, especially when emotionally fragile.  The differences, however, can absolutely ruin one or the other.

A prime example of this is cheating and those who cheat.  It should come as little surprise that the primary reason that any person would cheat is because they are lacking something in their primary relationship.  Sometimes that is emotional, sometimes that is physical, sometimes it is both, but assuredly it is because of love or lust.

Everyone craves love, whether we want to admit it or not.  We all have a strong desire to be completely accepted by another individual for who we are and feel a mutual acceptance for that person.  The real problem with this arises when people begin to show who they really are, or perhaps allow.

Lust, of course, is what everyone wants.  It can involve he emotions of love, but it may not necessarily be the same.  It is just an act of total passion.

There should always be a balance between the two in any healthy relationship, but obviously it is easy to fall into certain routines.  Those routines can easily destroy one side of that balance.  So what is a person to do after they've lost one side of that equation?

The simplistic answer is to talk it out and find a means to regain that balance to a satisfactory level.  Of course, from what most people have told me about their own relationships, this seems like the least likely option.  Apparently people find themselves in relationships in which talking out their differences to find something mutually beneficial is harder than what I could possibly imagine.

The next option, and what seems to happen far more frequently than is healthy, is to cheat.  Finding that someone at the local coffee shop, through online dating, or a coworker who can satisfy whatever is lacking in the situation.  It ends in some seriously hurt feelings or worse, far worse in some cases.

I find it rather interesting as to how common it is for open relationships to exist.  I shouldn't be surprised as I've had my own versions of this one in the past; however, I've found that the majority of people I know who do have these circumstances are the ones who either are or have partners who are unwilling to listen to the other person.

I should note that it isn't because they are bad people in the situations I've had people talk to me about, but rather it seems to be more of a pride thing.  No one wants to hear that they don't give good oral or can't last a satisfying length of time, but the fact is that these things happen.  Talking about them and bringing them into the open is the first step at accepting them, and only after accepting them can they be changed for the better.

I'm not going to pretend that I have any set advice on how to find a solution if you find yourself in this situation.  The only thing I can say about it is that you have to talk.  If you find yourself lacking the emotional side, especially if you're a man (and we know how hard that is) then express that, even if you don't even know that is what you're experiencing.  Just express yourself.  If you find yourself lustful after that feeling of pure, raw, uninhibited sexual fantasy and desire, even as a woman, then express that to your partner.  You may not be able to find a happy middle ground, but at least it is a start towards figuring out how to find one.

-Dustin S. Stover

For more of my writing, click below.
Kindle: Happiness in a Void of Darkness
Nook: Happiness in a Void of Darkness