I was made to play the part. I was born with a broken heart.

 I don't really have a good excuse. I didn't feel like doing this before my nap, and once I started my nap, I wasn't really in a mood to stop. Again, no real reason why. That's just the way it goes some days.

 Unfortunately, one of the corporate entities that pays me for Actual Paying Work changed the format for the copy I provide, so now I've got to go back and rework what I did that day before yesterday so it fits. And I'm just coming off a big supper so all I want to do is sleep. First-world problems, I know.

 Anyhow. I'll be doing both as the evening wears on and at least try to finish this by midnight. I don't know what the hell I'm going to roll with, though. I had a few ideas bouncing around my head this morning but nothing stuck, obviously. So, we'll see. Right now, I'm going to get back to the APW.

 Okay, I'm done. This new format is less fun - and this gig wasn't the source of much fun to begin with - but it does seem easy to knock out for the bread. And, really, isn't that what really matters in this world? So we'll just fill this out to the word count and get 'er done. It's twenty till eleven, so let's get cracking.

 I have decided in recent years my motivation in life has been and continues to be Have As Much Fun As Possible. The dark times of misery and depression come from when I tried to work against this. Having a straight job - in journalism or writing or anything - has never worked out for me. Having a Steady Someone has worked out even worse. In that, I'm only in it for the Fun and when she inevitably decides to check it out it's always because I'm not in this for the long haul. It's probably a good thing for everyone involved that I'm not particularly good looking or charismatic.

 Every woman I've been involved with, it's ended because she either got bored with playing around or she realized she needed to look elsewhere for something more. This usually takes about six weeks to six months. My last ex hung it out for nearly three years, but we both came to decide after the end it would've been best if we'd had gone the "just friends (maybe with benefits)" route from the get-go.

 In my defense, that's all I ever tried to do. Another former pelvic affiliation said I had sociopath tendencies because I can't conclusively say I'd ever been in love. However, she was a virologist, so I took that with a grain of salt. The last ex was a therapist and she said I was good. I might be on the autistic spectrum but not a sociopath. That's a good thing.

 It does bother me a bit that I've never been able to make the Love thing work. I'm not one of those ones who says it can't happen. I've seen it happen, more than once, with my own eyes. I mean in real time, people falling in love, pledging their lives to each other, and remaining stuck to each others' hips for at least the next 10 years. Kids or no kids, I've seen it both ways. 

 For me, even thinking of such makes me want to run screaming for the hills. I figured out a long time ago, mind, that "friends with benefits" is as far as I care to go. Somewhere about five years ago I lost all interest in sex physically, regressing back to when I was 12 and touching girls was icky. So here I am at 45 and will probably spend the rest of my life on my own, unless something like what happened to Epictetus comes into play. I am nothing but cool with it, but I won't deny it bothers me that I can't figure out why it is.

 Okay, that's the word count. It's been a weird day and this is probably more information than you need. There's plenty of stuff for News tomorrow, so we'll leave it there and worry about that tomorrow. Take it easy.