The amount I cry.

I know in this patriarchal world, it's a plus when a straight man admits to a straight woman that he cries now and then.  It's an even bigger plus if by chance she gets to witness this magical moment, and more importantly, she is the reason for it.  I never had the privilege of these praises from my wife because she's seen me cry a million times.  It's not that I'm a crybaby (I am), it's just that I feel I've internalized so much in my life that stuff just... comes out.  I've definitely cried for valid reasons: my wedding day when vows were exchanged, right before my mom went into surgery, Hotel Rwanda; but, I've had my fair share of odd cries: when Aunt Rachel and Harriet meet their dad for the first time, the ending of Cool Runnings when they crash and lose but pick up their bobsled nonetheless, and this teddy bear my mom got me that sings "Happy Birthday" in a cockney accent.  I even cried to Ghostbusters II when Louis Tully thinks he's the one responsible for raising the slime from the museum.  It was just so... beautiful.  I actually might cry right now.

I don't think I'm particularly sensitive either.  I'm for certain not considerate.  This condition confuses people.  My wife knows I'm a horrible person.  My passive-aggressiveness has taken heights I can't even fathom.  If I were wronged, I would gladly take the culprit's toothbrush and brush a toiletbowl with it. I wound generationally do it.  I would do it to that guy's kids and their grandchildren.  All their loved ones until they would just genetically pass it down because their bodies are so used to it.  I would be dead and their DNA would go on, full of shitty ecoli teeth codes.

The first post.

I am starting a blog because I want attention.  I told myself that if I started a blog, I would be as honest as possible, and well, there you go.  It's not like I don't get attention.  I have a loving wife that adorns me with compliments and kisses.  I have friends that, at the very least, entertain my idiosyncrasies.  It's not the same type of attention I'm looking for.  I want to be healthily lionized but from a safe distance.  I want people to talk about me, a lot, while I'm not there, to the point where I'm actually an inciter of fights -- "Well, Sameer would do it."  I want a wife to walk in on her husband masturbating to the idea of me.  Not in a gay way.  To think in terms of orientation is just too limiting.  I want that husband to have the deep desire to dive into my being and be nestled every so gently in my metaphorical male-womb.  I want him to want to take my soul out on the town, feed it a steak dinner and take it to a cheap motel.   I know I'm asking a lot.

So, I started this blog... to share myself.  So come join me in my follies so you can vicariously stay up at night thinking about all your embarrassing moments in life.