If you were re-visiting for a hysterical story about the life of misery I live, check back in a few days. I promise this is a very rare occurrence, but shit is about to get serious. I will try to add as much comedy as possible, but this is my only medium to vent. I have less than a handful of friends and family members whom I can openly talk to, so the only natural option is turning to the 20,000 people who read this.

Let me first tell you a little about myself. I’m not perfect. I’m far from perfect. I have so many flaws that I make Helen Keller look like Marylin Monroe. Somehow, I still manage to maintain quite a bit of confidence. I’m an extremely hard worker and I work up to 60 or 70 hours a week from home. If you couldn’t tell, I write jokes for a barely middle-class living. I also write online advertisements on the side. I meet three times a week with a personal trainer because I’m trying to get my weight under control. I’ve been working with him for 8 months and I’ve lost 3 pounds. I’m constantly dieting and trying to discover new healthy recipes, but for some reason the weight just won’t come off. If there is a God, and this is how he intended me to be, so be it. I’m in outstanding shape for someone over 270lbs! Even in the worst of times, I’ve considered myself a lucky person. I mean, how does a random guy’s blog get 20,000 views in two weeks? That’s insane. I get fan mail for this blog. A girl even said she wanted to “make it all better for me (if I knew what she meant).” Bitch, please! You’re 15 and clearly a whore. Oh, a guy in his mid-20’s got you pregnant and is now serving years in prison for pedophilia? Tell me how that doesn’t sound like a perfect episode of 16 And Pregnant. I can see the preview now: “First, he found a penis in his coffee. Now, he’s finding a penis in his asshole as he rots away in prison.” As much as I hate to admit it, I would totally be the bitch in a prison environment. A fluffy, young man who’s never been in trouble in his life? Please! That screams, “I’m going to rape you in the shower!” I have an amazing family and wonderful friends whom I consider family. But if you can’t tell, my romantic life is absolutely despicable. I actually got fan mail that said, “Your love life makes the Holocaust look a family vacation to Disney World.” My first girlfriend was a gorgeous teenage model (in high school, I’m not actually a pedophile). She was a little on the crazy side, but without going into detail, she had every right to be. My second girlfriend was an athlete with a killer body. She was absolutely nuts and had no right to be. My girlfriend now is absolutely stunning, but we have more problems than a black man in the backwoods of Alabama. By the way, my girlfriend is black, so I can totally make semi-racist remarks like that. That is how it works… right?

I’m far from the perfect boyfriend. I work all of the time and I’m sure I could be more affectionate. Plus, if you’ve read previous blogs, you know my sex drive basically doesn’t exist. That’s right, ladies – I’m a man who has no desire to have sex. I will wine and dine you, buy you shit you don’t need, and then drop you off at the front door like a gentleman. Basically, my body thinks I’m gay. I make a lot of mistakes; like making a joke when it’s unnecessary or being, in her words, “too controlling.” Ever since my girlfriend and I have been together, and granted we spent the first 3 months on opposite sides of the country, she has put herself in several positions where she could cheat on me. From what I know (and doubt) she has never physically cheated on me. But emotionally, she has definitely fucked with me. I’ve caught her telling other guys how she wants to be with them or how she wants to sleep with them. I’ve also caught her talking pretty badly about me to her friends, family, and these guys as previously mentioned. How did I catch her? Well, in not the most trustworthy of ways. I have a very keen sense of reading people. If something is off or if someone is hiding something, I know. There is no way around it. Having been with her, I can read her like a Goddamn coloring book. At the first sign of distress, I hopped on her Facebook account. Was it wrong? Absolutely. I don’t want to be that guy. I hate that guy. That guy is an absolute prick. There’s no righteous excuse for doing it, but I knew something was up and I didn’t want to be played. But sure enough, I was being played. I confronted her, and we both lost trust in each other; but there was still a spark, so we worked through it. A month later, we decide to save some money and go on the same phone plan. Being the idiot I am, I decide to pick up the tab every month. Not long after that I get that same sneaky suspicion that something isn’t right. At this point, she never misses an opportunity to log out of her Facebook. So naturally she turns to her phone. Being the account owner, I’m able to read every single text message online. So being the insecure idiot I am, I go read her messages. Sure enough – she’s talking to an ex-fuck buddy about how awful I am. I should have left her at this point. I can make every excuse in the world as to why I didn’t, but the main excuse is I am an idiot. But much like the previous incident, we moved past it. The most recent incident occurred just a few minutes ago. Again, I read her like a book and knew something was up. To no one’s surprise, she was complaining to her sister about me and about how I hold her back from partying and living the life she wants. In her words, she doesn’t know how she got herself in this situation where she feels so trapped. After reading that, I finally understand what black guys mean when they say, “Bitches be trippin’.” I am pissed off at this point! I work 60-70 hours a week, pay every single bill, and I’m holding you back? Not to mention, she also told her sister this: “By the way, he’s completely intimidated by my new dildo. He said I have to keep it put up and not leave out.” Are you fucking serious? Blue whales would be intimidated by this dildo! And of course I want it put up! I mean, am I being overly classy by not wanting gigantic penises hanging around the house when we have company? I would also be afraid my dog would get a hold of it, but I don’t think she could lift 20lbs (by length comparison I’m assuming that’s what it weighs).

I don’t want to be the bad guy. For some reason, I still love the girl. But I’m not going to continue putting myself through this. If you have a suggestion on the correct way of handling this, please comment or email coffeepenis@gmail.com. By the way, I know I’m an idiot. There’s no need to tell me again.