hardhitter_nj: (beginning)
Apparently, it could not have been easier if he had tried. Sitting on his parents’ front porch, his childhood home gave him a sense of familial security as he contemplated his next moves in life. With no more obligations to the world at large, Michael should have felt at ease. He was not, despite all the right persons in his life backing up his decision to not become a priest.  You can't force a square peg into a round hole, his father said. While his mother may have been disappointed, something new lit up in her eyes.  Now you can give me grand-babies. You and I both know Maggie will won't do it, not even if I made it a dying wish, she playfully chides, confiding in him that yes, she actually knew Maggie was no saint and that it was ok too.


 With the yoke of responsibility off his shoulders, it seemed a new obligation cropped up in its place. He knew the next round of conversations would be about setting him up on blind dates, promises to go to mixers, etcetera etc. All in order to meet the right girl, settle down and add to the gene pool. In theory, he thought it was fine for his sister if that miracle ever occurred, but something about settling down with the ‘right’ girl did not sit right with him.

Women. He never had much time for them in his entire life except for Maggie and his mother, save for the odd setups in High School  and when he was still professionally boxing. He was always too busy exploring every sport he ever wanted to try, deepening his commitment to the Church, and becoming a priest. There was no comfort in their soft expressions and in their attempts at sexual overtures with him, Michael felt zero desire despite some being very pleasing to the eye. Even as he gazed out toward the street  at the Jersey girls he’d grown up around and with, watching them pass by on the way to the beach. Zip, zilch, nadda.  Some waved, some blew kisses, and others shook  their outer extremities as if they were on Wild Kingdom, but it only got them a bashful grin – the one he reserved for women who came on too strong.

No, he wasn't going to think about it anymore today. He'd go to the gym and get a good workout. That could go on for hours. At least there he would be centered. At the gymnasium, in the company of fellow boxers, the outside world would slip away like it always did and a sense of fellowship fell  over all who entered its testosterone driven domain. And tomorrow, he would surf for as long as he could.


hardhitter_nj: (Default)

February 2012

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