[137] – Loner Boner (ColuMania)

While my LOP persona paints this picture of a whacky, crude, foul mouthed, homo-erotic character, it’s quite contradictory to my true self. SkittleZ is narcissistic by nature, eccentric and short-tempered whereas Josh Keegan rarely ever resembles anything but a relaxed demeanor. While I tend to get along with everybody around me and enjoy social events / family functions / college parties / hanging with the homies, the alone time is key. It’s crucial to every other aspect of my life. Like a harmfully addictive drug, I need solitude more often than not to keep me on the straight and narrow. Honestly, I’ve been that way for nearly twenty years now.

And it’s just manifested since I stumbled across this website almost five years ago. I pour myself into whatever ridiculous concept, series or column comes to mind. Nine times out of ten, I can’t drive home fast enough from work to jump on my laptop and begin writing. It’s become a literary disease that simply won’t budge an inch. You know what though? I fucking love it. Banging away on my keyboard is a multitude of different things – therapeutic, entrancing, mentally stimulating and most importantly, a window to the outside world. Representing Lords of Pain through weekly columns has allowed me to write about my biggest passion and guiltiest pleasure. Because of that, it’s pretty difficult to let anything else bum me out.

Something has been slowly eating away at me for months however. Gnawing on my sub-conscious much like a zombies feasts upon the flesh of the living. Believe it or not, the problem was my girlfriend. Simone seemed to be getting uncomfortably dependant on me. If I had a day off work or any freedom in the schedule, she expected me to jump in my car and make the 126-mile trip to Long Island without batting an eyelash. Oh and for convenience, I’d be ordered to swing by Simone’s house beforehand and pick up food / clothes / mail; a conveyer belt of sorts which greatly benefitted her. Uhhhh beg your pardon? Did this bitch ever stop and wonder what kind of toll the jaunts down and back I-95 were taking on my car? The absurd cost of gas and toll ways? Or about how painfully expensive these little adventures were overall? No of course not. Simone wanted a wallet to ransack and a dick to fuck.

Also, I’ve heard of packing on the freshman fifteen but this was pushing it. Simone had gained considerable weight since starting college in the fall of 2008. I’d previously seen pictures of my lady friend from high school and oh my goodness… rock solid from all angles, folks! Those days are far behind Simone unfortunately. Perhaps it wouldn’t have bothered me as much if she made significant strides to exercise and shed some pounds. Not the case though. I daresay the Pollack appeared content with her declining figure which irritated me somethin’ fierce. To an extent where I went from defending Simone’s extra baggage against others to criticizing my girlfriend for the less-than-ideal situation. I even poked fun at her size on several occasions and began making nasty jokes on a daily basis. While the guys before me dated Simone in her prime, I had to act happy with sloppy seconds? Despite my utter devotion to our relationship and bevy of sacrifices? Seriously?! Complete bullshit.

Furthermore, what about ‘working’ is so excruciatingly difficult to comprehend? If you weren’t already aware, I paint houses for a living through the family business and the schedule got hectic in January. Thus, I was forced to work on weekends which meant no Long Island escapades. You’d assume the girlfriend would understand and appreciate the extra effort, right? Yeah well I received none of that. Instead of accepting reality and going with the flow, Simone flew off the handle whenever I explained that we wouldn’t be seeing each other the upcoming Friday. Accusations and guilt trips galore. In retrospect, what the fuck was I supposed to do? I’m working my ass off to help keep the company afloat and all this cunt can do is bitch nonstop? Ummmm here’s a tip… kneel down and suck my dick.

The cons started steamrolling the pros by that point. I’d grow impatient with my lady friend at the flip of a switch. Every irrelevant thing Simone said or did triggered my unsteady side and always led to nasty fights. Extremely fierce confrontations that would often become physically violent. I quickly became an explosive device with a short fuse and started suffering from tunnel vision. Out of habit, I’d find myself searching for a reason to blast her and storm off immediately afterwards. Our average evening usually consisted of Simone crying heavily and me shouting vile remarks at her. I wanted nothing to do with my girlfriend and really just pleaded to be left alone. We never officially broke up but there were plenty of ugly verbal exchanges where the conversation (and day) concluded on a cliffhanger. For whatever reason, I was building walls around me to keep everything non-wrestling out. Work was only necessary for food and bills. Everything else in the routine ended up categorized secondarily. My priorities were primarily structured around LOP & WWE.

Part of me yearned to be single; relish in the single life where I’d be fully free of the responsibilities that come with relationships. Good riddance to being a “yes” man, attending lame Frisbee tournaments, tons of additional travel, following the boyfriend guidelines, having sex with the same broad and giving a damn altogether. Glance at me wrong and I’d jump at the opportunity to split. Flustered, distant and unemotional described me to a tee. Then when the timing couldn’t possibly be any worse, Valentine’s Day struck; seemingly without warning. I ventured out for the customary gifts that were appropriate on February 14th and forced a smile to honor the annual tradition. Lord knows what kinda crazy shit Simone had planned for the big day. Imagine my relief & surprise when she left but a package of Skittles and folded-up letter behind for me. I smoothed the paper’s wrinkles out, eyed the large body of black scribble cautiously and read:

”Joshua – 2 years have gone by since I met you, yet it still feels like just yesterday that I was getting butterflies in my stomach about snuggling next to you, or when you would kiss me next. My love for you has grown exponentially since that one night when I knew you were the one… and gave you the goodies : ) Even though we have our fair share of disagreements, our uncanny ability to work through them and not give up is what makes me love you even more. I have given you the power of my heart , which is kinda scary to me. No one else knows me like you do, and I have never trusted anyone so much to let them get this view of me. You are everything I could ask for and more in a friend, in a boyfriend, and especially in a lover. I could tell you were worth holding on to that first Valentine’s Day when no one had ever shown me such affection before in my life. You are a perfect gentlemen and I hope that my future is perfect enough to have you in it. I used to hate this day because I always felt it was a reminder of my shortcomings in the attractiveness apartment, but being with you, you’ve shown me what it’s like to feel beautiful. I have this incredible passion for you and to spend my life with you, which can never be matched. Whether we end our lives together or apart, I will never forget you as my first true love. The good will always outweigh the bad and I love you with all of my heart! Happy Valentine’s Day <3”

It broke me. Nothing had hit me with such force in ages and the impact left a lasting impression. My tear drops smudged the ink and I sat on the edge of my bed for what felt like an eternity. Whipping the stream of cold wet snot on my shirtsleeve as the letter stared a hole right through me. I felt helpless; hardly moving a muscle except to dry my face. I’d invested so much negative energy into driving a divide between me and Simone for what? Just because the burden of dating had grown into a nuisance? After all of our trials and tribulations, my girlfriend managed to overlook our relationship’s deficiencies and write something purely beautiful. Even though I’d done everything imaginable to get rid of her, Simone reminded me that there’s no giving up on each other. She’s had my back since day one and I foolishly took it for granted. Said mistake already cost me once with my ex-wife… you’d think my ass would’ve learned by now.

The puzzling logic to it all is my intolerance towards Simone throughout the ordeal. Meanwhile, professional wrestling has never been an inconvenience over the last thirteen plus years. No matter how terrible of an episode RAW or SmackDown subjects me to, I’ve always nodded and asked “Thank you, sir. May I have another?” Wrestling’s dragged me along a bumpy dirt road time and time again yet I’ve never even fancied the concept of abandoning it. How unfair of me to choose lackluster feuds, meaningless angles and weak storylines over my amazing girlfriend. If I placed 1/100th of the effort focused on wrestling into my relationship, there would be no overwhelming issues. I vow not to fall victim to the same fucking trap again with Simone.

Here I’ve been moaning and complaining about driving two hours every 14 days or so to visit the girlfriend and my reasons are absolute horse shit. Not to mention we almost always have a blast down at Hofstra. Few things in life beat ordering Chinese food and kicking back for some SmackDown with the lady friend. Aside from that, the woman pays for the majority of my meals, brings me along to parties, occupies my groin region, etc. Yet lately I’ve passed that all up with increasing frequency for cheap entertainment and a laptop. Something there just doesn’t sound right to me. When did my line of thinking steer so recklessly off course?

So Simone gained a fair bit of weight over the last couple years… Big deal. The situation’s totally fixable and it’s really my lazy ass who needs to stand up and act; begin exercising with her when she’s home (i.e. summer and winter vacation). If my girlfriend’s waist and stomach are so off-putting, why not help the Pollack slim down? I’m far from the most toned and health conscious dude. And hell I willingly endure all of the extra baggage which comes with following WWE intently. The amount of fluff and clutter centered around the companies’ product is fucking ludicrous. From Twitter accounts to voting via text message to garbage video packages. How Vince’s people manage to ruin the art of recycling is still puzzling to this day. Nah I prefer skin and bones rather than an intense hobby suffering from obesity.

From birth, I’ve been raised to respect women in general (even the hideous chicks with claws for vagina lips). During my childhood and adolescence, I never harmed a hair on any female’s head except for my sister which is self-explanatory. Violence towards women slash against the law is pretty common knowledge amongst United States citizens (can’t speak for other countries around the globe). Yet here I was roughhousing with Simone and constantly crossing the line. Bruises, scratches and welts littered across both of our bodies… What would my Grandmother say if she knew of me venting frustrations through physical abuse? Or my father? Distant relatives? This shell of a man doesn’t deserve to represent me. Had I taken the whole wrestling fandom a tad too far? Did the monumental toll taken on the bodies of my favorite grapplers not distinctly prove a point? Simone wasn’t my own personal punching bag and had every fucking right to leave me. She didn’t though which goes to show just how valuable a Miss Elizabeth can be to a Randy Savage.

I’ve learned to balance my two dearest affections since the inner turmoil first arose. My girlfriend’s wonderful and incredible but c’mon now… I’m a smarky bastard who loves flying by the seat of his pants.

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