Zach Conversations

He said he loved me.

Was this during sex? Because chicks yell out “OH GOD” and “OH DADDY” while I’m fuckin’ ’em and I really doubt they think I’m either of those things. If so… well, we have bigger problems than America’s education system.

I wanna go somewhere… Take a vacation from the bullshit.

I like going on vacation with girls that don’t get tan lines… If you know what I mean.

I think I have cancer.

Shit, seriously? Eh, just think of it like I do STDs. If I have the clap and I don’t know about it, it’s the same as not having it.

PSA: If you see a 6’1″ blonde dude who drinks too much and always wears muscle tees and tank tops, don’t have sex with him.

Dream Words

This is it. What’re we gonna do…?

Enjoy it.

I wish I had stayed…. I wish I had done more.

Let’s pretend you had.

It may have been the saddest exchange of words I’ve ever had. It doesn’t matter who said what. It was sad for us both.

I almost wish the conversation had happened. 

But it was nothing more than a dream.


I want to live happily… But… That’s a dream. A sad dream. Those sorts of things… I won’t dream them anymore.


Be well.

This is what it felt like when the slaves were freed

I feel good.

Michael texted last night. We talked and it feels like things are finally over. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to talk, and I’m okay with that. 

I feel free. No chance of having him back has given me a way to move on. 

If the world were perfect, I would’ve liked to be able to chat with him on occasion. He feels I’m not over him. I think a good description of where I was… I was on the edge of a blade; I could go either way. His telling me to move on pushed me to one side. I’d been waiting for him to say something, and I got a something. 

I’ll miss our conversations. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss you, Michael. I know you read this shitty blog, you fuck.

But that’s life, and my life is pretty spiffy. Smiles for miles and enough drink to baptize several children.

Bar Banter

I’m looking for my future ex wife. I thrive on the adrenaline a messy divorce would give me.

The shit you hear at bars is enough to make you clutch your pearls.

A bit of what I said:

Bartender: What’re you having?
Me: Just fuck me up, bruh.


Slut: I’m a world traveler.
Me: I bet her pussy was stamped along with her passport.

“Bruh… Fuck the slut; the other one’s a Petri dish.”

“Cut yourself some slack, dude. You don’t have to fuck everyone.”